The Masked Men

"Wash your hands," Elmo's mother always said. "Wear your coat," "Finish your homework," "Don't approach the men with the masks." So there he sat, on the curb. His hands were grubby. His coat lay forgotten on top of his empty spelling assignment. After all, he was eight years old now- far too old to be listening to his mother. He sat on the curb with Dahlia and Joyous, waiting for a masked man to pass by. Joyous was wrapped in her little plaid coat, shiny clean hands hidden under red mittens. Her spelling worksheet was inside a folder in her bag, neatly finished. She had round cheeks that old ladies liked to pinch until they were red, and her two long, long braids were neatly tucked in, as they should be, so as not to get caught. She didn't want to see a masked man, but she didn't want to be alone either.
Dahlia had a blanket for a coat. Her mother had cut sleeves into it, and where it frayed, she wove in bits of green straw that she got from the place where no one could see her. Her homework was crumpled in one of her small, damp, clammy hands. Her hair was cut unevenly and hovered around her long and pointed face. She looked like a sunflower with freckles.
Elmo smiled up at the bakery sign across from him. His Aunt Patsy said he got an evil expression sometimes. His dark hair seemed to suddenly darken his whole face, and he smiled, and you could see that he wouldn't have to get his wisdom teeth out, because they would fit. Maybe he was evil. Either way, the bakery man worked very hard to make his first few loaves of bread perfect, just as the masked men liked. One of them came in the mornings to take them away. He never said anything, but children at school swore up and down that if you saw one of his brothers outside on a quiet night, and listened so hard you could hear the ocean, then over the waves you could catch him humming Ring Around the Rosy. He would sing only a few words. Ashes, ashes.
Elmo spotted a dark figure on the corner. His feet were making sounds today. He stopped at the glass door, and peered in to see that his loaves were cooling. Elmo ignored one last protest from Joyous to scamper across the road on all fours. He found a loose thread in the masked man's sleeve, and tugged it gently. The masked man turned to look at Elmo.
Joyous swore he was absorbed straight into the man. Dahlia thought he'd climbed the long, dark coat, and been taken with the bread. All of the adults said that they were being fanciful. They said whatever had happened to Elmo had happened the night before. A tragic mystery. They said Joyous and Dahlia had been alone that morning.
Joyous got a perfect grade on her homework. The teacher smiled at her. She was one of the people with long teeth. Dahlia passed.
Dahlia's mother told her to wash her hands. Dahlia's mother told her to wear her coat. Dahlia's mother asked her where she got all of the straw she wove into her sleeves. There were no plants in the town. Why was it green? Why did it curl? Well, isn't that what straw looks like? And she got it from the mountaintop where no one could see her. There was water in the ground there. A few weeks later, Dahlia's house was empty. Her mother had never liked this town.
Joyous could hear Elmo's laughing at night. He laughed so hard, it sounded like scraping your plate with your fork for the last, juicy, purple bits of pepper. She heard it until her hair was gray, and the masked men no longer came to the bakery. And if you asked her very nicely, she would take you into her front room and show you the posters with children's faces on them. She was sure she was the only one looking for Elmo and Dahlia anymore. Maybe she would find them.