Mike Boudet

It's when the sun is furthest from the equator.

And it's a time when some say the veil between this dimension and the others is the thinnest.

Okay, so maybe there is a little quote-unquote new age wisdom.

The most important point though is that it's Ohio, the state that's becoming quite popular around here for some reason.

So it's June 21st in East Cleveland.

Believe it or not, there are posh areas in Cleveland, so that some of you savages can pretend to be people.

This isn't one of them.

It's not a picturesque skyline by the lake or the downtown area lit up with nightlife.

It's Collinwood, a working-class neighborhood that feels like it's part of a bygone era.

Part of the Rust Belt, the houses are small and modest, but nice enough, and the lawns are mowed.

There's just enough space in the backyard for a barbecue.

Ah, Americana.

A small, white, Cape Cod-style home faces a narrow street called Chickasaw Avenue.

It's a mild but humid evening.

No wind is blowing, and it's dark.

Windows stay open in most homes, and the people inside are asleep.

The fans humming in the background.

But on this street, as June 21st turns to the 22nd, something bad is happening.

The call almost sounded like a hoax.

The child calling in was so calm and said she lived on Chicken Saw Avenue.