Pike Street never quiet before.
Not in de morning when de radios fightin’ wid de pot-clangin’. Not in de afternoon when de football argument gettin’ louder dan de actual game. And definitely not in de evening when everybody somehow outside, even when dey ain’t got no reason to be there.
But today — today is different.
Nothin'.
No vendor shoutin’. No engine revvin’. No music. Just stillness.
Speedeet notice it first. He standin’ at de corner, squintin’ down de road like de road just done somethin’ personal to him.
“Wilar,” he say slow. “You seein’ dis?”
Wilar follow he gaze.
De whole street — cars, minibuses, bicycles, even Auntie Sharm wheelbarrow — completely stuck. Not slow. Not crawlin’. Stopped. Like somebody press pause on de world.
🚧
Dey run closer.
A minibus sittin’ in de middle of de road, packed wid passengers who long since give up pretendin’ dey goin’ anywhere. De driver leanin’ out de window.
“Don’t even ask,” he say before dey even open dey mouths. “We been here from before I even start vex.”
Behind him, a taxi driver got he head on de steerin’ wheel like he reconsiderin’ he whole life.
Further down, a delivery truck driver eatin’ mango calmly, like dis just become he new permanent address.
Speedeet blink. “So… nobody movin’?”
A man sittin’ on he car bonnet shake he head. “Street lock.”
“Why?” Wilar ask.
De man shrug. “Somebody say road wuk startin’.”
Speedeet look around. No workers. No machines. No equipment. Nothin'.
“Who say dat?”
De man point vague. “Somebody up deh.”
🪧
Dey follow de pointin'.
And dere it is.
One single sign. Plant slightly crooked in de middle of de road.
ROAD WORK AHEAD
Please be patient.
Speedeet stare at it.
“Dat’s it?”
Wilar fold he arms. “Dat cyaa be it.”
🧠
Within minutes, de whole street form what could only be called a meeting. Nobody actually call it a meeting. But it is one.
Auntie Sharm pacin’ wid she hands on she hip. “So we got a sign,” she sayin’, “but no work.”
De mango man nod slow. “Which mean either de work comin’…”
He pause.
“…or de sign just reach before de workers.”
A small boy from down de street raise he hand.
“What if de workers see de sign and tink de work already start?”
De whole street go quiet.
Speedeet eyes get big. “Dat… actually make sense.”
🛑
More people gather.
Suggestions startin’ to fly.
“Move de sign!”
“No, leave it — what if work really comin’?”
“Call somebody!”
“Who we callin’?”
“Anybody!”
Within minutes, three different people on dey phones, all of dem confidently explainin’ de situation to somebody who clearly got no idea what dey talkin’ about.
Meanwhile, de traffic still frozen.
Drivers startin’ to adjust. One man set up a small card game on he car hood. Another startin’ to sell snack out he trunk. De minibus driver got music playin’ now, collectin’ imaginary fares “just in case we ever move again.”
Speedeet watchin’ all dis. He turn to Wilar.
“Dis cyaa go on forever.”
Wilar shake he head. “Cyaa go on past lunch, anyway.”
⚡
Speedeet step forward. He clap he hands.
“Alright. We solvin’ dis.”
Wilar nod. “Simple plan. We test de sign.”
“How you mean?” somebody ask.
Speedeet point. “We move it.”
Gasps.
“You mad?” Auntie Sharm say. “What if dat sign important?”
Speedeet shrug. “What if it not?”
🧪
Carefully — very carefully — Speedeet and Wilar walk up to de sign.
De whole street watchin'.
Somebody whisper: “Dis is history.”
Speedeet grab de pole.
“Ready?”
Wilar nod. “Do it.”
Dey lift de sign.
Nothin’ happen.
No workers appear. No alarm sound. No mysterious authority figure come runnin’ down de road shoutin’. Just… silence.
Speedeet turn around. He look at de whole crowd.
“…you see?”
🚗
Slowly, careful, one driver start he engine.
Den another.
Den another.
Like a spell breakin’, de street start movin’ again.
Cars rollin’ forward. People cheerin’. Somebody actually clap.
De minibus driver shoutin’ “WE BACK IN BUSINESS!” like he personally solve de problem.
🧾
Speedeet and Wilar lean de sign careful against a fence.
Auntie Sharm shake she head. “So de whole street stop… because of one sign?”
De mango man sigh. “Is not de sign,” he say.
“Is everybody believin’ de sign.”
Speedeet smile.
Wilar nod. “Next time,” he say, “we checkin’ first.”
🌇
As de street go back to normal — loud, chaotic, alive — Speedeet glance back at de sign.
It look smaller now.
Less important.
Just a piece of wood wid some paint on it.
But for a few hours —
It stop everythin'.
Speedeet & Wilar is a series of children’s adventures set in Guyana, written by Albert Massay. Recommended for ages 8 and up.