#pickyjuly

“Cool stuff? Like what? Haunted wallpaper? Ghouls on swing sets?” She raised an eyebrow. “There’s a reason this place looks like it hasn’t seen a critter in decades.”

Dogday wagged his tail and shrugged. “Maybe it’s full of treasure or something. Who knows? Don’t you want to find out?”

“No, I wanna stay outside in the sunshine where it’s safe and not horrifying,” She shot back, hooves tapping against the concrete impatiently. But when Dogday gave her a pleading look, his ears flopping slightly, she sighed in exasperation. The puppy dog eyes.

“Fine. But the second something weird happens, I’m gone. Got it?”

“Got it!” Dogday pushed the door open, revealing a dark hallway with flickering fluorescent lights above. The air inside was stale, carrying a faint metallic tang. Dogday stepped in first, his red-orange fur catching the dim light, while Picky followed reluctantly, her arms crossed tighter than ever. As they moved through the hall, their footsteps echoed unnervingly loud against the linoleum floor. 

The walls were lined with faded posters of cheerful critters playing games, their cartoonish smiles now cracked and peeling. Picky’s eyes darted around, taking in every unsettling detail.

“This place is already giving me the creeps,” she muttered. “Why does it smell like rusty nails?” Dogday paused at the end of the hall, a grin spreading across his face as he reached a pair of double doors painted with bright, childlike murals. “Check this out! Bet there’s something interesting behind here.”

Picky snorted. “Bet it’s a room full of nightmares.”

Ignoring her, Dogday pushed the doors open, and the two of them stepped into the room.

The space was eerily quiet except for the faint fluorescent hum, the pale glow bouncing off the artificial green grass that blanketed the floor. The walls were painted with fading murals of idyllic rolling hills, cartoon trees, and a sunny blue sky dotted with white clouds. But the cheerful imagery was undermined by the unnatural stillness in the air. The ceiling was oppressively low, giving the entire space a claustrophobic, dream-like quality.

Picky stood in the middle of the room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her curly pink hair bobbed slightly as she tilted her head, glaring suspiciously at a hollow, brightly colored plastic log resting in the corner of the room. 

“Boy. I don’t like this,” She grumbled, her hooves tapping against the artificial grass. 

Picky stopped in her tracks, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the room. “See? What did I tell you? Who even builds a place like this?” Dogday stepped further in, his nose twitching as he took in the scene. “Huh. It’s not so bad. Kinda neat, actually.”

“Kinda neat?” Picky scoffed. “Dogday, it’s like someone tried to copy nature from memory. Fake grass, fake trees, fake… whatever that is.” She jabbed a hoof at a plastic stump with a molded squirrel on it. “I’ve seen better scenery on cereal boxes.”

“Come on, Picks, this was supposed to be for kids!”

Dogday crouched near a round, shallow “pond” made of painted concrete, a few plastic “rocks” arranged around its edge. His ears perked slightly as he leaned closer, squinting at the glossy blue surface. “Its like an  illusion,” He said, poking it with a finger. “Just shiny paint. Kinda neat, huh?”

Picky glared at him, unimpressed. “Neat? It’s lazy,” Picky muttered. “This whole room’s got the same energy as a rushed diorama. No soul. No effort. Just kid stuff shoved in a box and left to ferment.”

Dogday stood up and shrugged. “I mean, yeah, but it’s not that bad.” He gestured toward a plastic tunnel shaped like a fallen log. “I bet you could still have some fun if you tried.”

“Fun?” Picky’s voice rose an octave. “Dogday, if something jumps out of that tunnel, I’m hoofing it straight out of here. And don’t think for a second I’ll wait for you.”

Dogday chuckled, brushing his paw along the edge of the painted pond. “Come on,  it’s just an old, weird room. Nothing spooky about it.”

But as he spoke, the sound of faint shuffling echoed from the far end of the room, near another hollow log structure. Both critters froze. Picky’s ears stiffened, and she stepped closer to Dogday, lowering her voice to a sharp whisper. “Did you hear that?”

Dogday nodded, his grin had faltered. “Yeah. Could just be... I dunno, the building settling?” Picky gaffed, “We’re not inside an old wood shack, Dogday.”

From the shadows at the edge of the room, a small, featureless figure emerged. It moved slowly, deliberately, its blank form outlined against the painted mural. It was child-sized, with smooth, rounded edges and no distinct features. No face, no fur, no clothes. Just a pale, undefined shape.

Picky nearly pulled Dogday over. “This little piggy said, nope! Nope, nope, nope!”

The figure didn’t react to them. Instead, it wandered over to the hollow log in the corner and climbed inside, disappearing without a sound. A second figure appeared shortly after, this one sitting on a brightly painted bench near the “pond". It had a little toy car in its hand. It dropped the car with a shocking clatter.

Dogday and Picky jumped away so quickly that Dogday fell backward over a small seesaw. But the featureless thing didn’t respond to their shock. Its head tilted downward as if lost in thought.

“What the hell are they?!”

Dogday gulped, trying to remain calm. “They aren’t attacking. Nothing to worry about. They’re just... uh... h-hanging out, like us.”

Picky desperately grabbed his arm and turned, marching them toward the door.

“Hanging out? Dogday, they don’t even have faces. Or fur. Or... anything! We’re leaving. Now!” Dogday hesitated, glancing back at the sitting figure even while being dragged by Picky. Like he couldn’t actually believe it. “Alright! I’m coming! But admit it! This place is kinda cool! Like, in a weird, nightmare-dream sort of way.” He gulped. “I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming right now...”

“Am I part of the dream? Cause I’m not! And we can’t be dreaming the same dream. Come on!”

She was already halfway out the door, muttering to herself about how she should have stayed home and made apple cider instead of exploring creepy abandoned buildings with Dogday.

As the two friends left, the featureless figures remained, frozen in space, unmoving yet somehow aware. It usually took a while but more friends would come. And they’d make sure to be more welcoming next time.