{"id":2307,"date":"2021-10-09T14:13:08","date_gmt":"2021-10-09T21:13:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/?p=2307"},"modified":"2021-10-09T14:13:08","modified_gmt":"2021-10-09T21:13:08","slug":"the-town","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/2021\/10\/09\/the-town\/","title":{"rendered":"The Town"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

prompt:\u00a0Set your story in a town disconnected from the rest of the world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

available at Reedsy<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

My GPS got me lost\u2026well, that and my desire to take the scenic route and avoid the freeways. The dense woods surrounding the route it had recommended blocked out everything. It was only when the road narrowed and became a potholed mess that I realized that I wasn\u2019t anywhere near<\/em> where the GPS said I was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I should have been able to see the freeway from here, but there was no infrastructure beyond this ill-maintained forest road. Checking my phone, I saw that I had no signal. The choice was to follow this road that climbed ahead of me in hopes of a signal or attempt to turn around on the road that was, by now, a single lane of crumbling asphalt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Deciding on a compromise, I continued up the road, looking for a spot where the trees were far enough back to allow me to turn around. As I crested a small rise, the road turned to gravel and continued upwards after a blind corner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two more blind corners, which had me white-knuckling with the fear that a logging truck might come barreling around toward me, and I reached the peak. Still no signal, but I could see that the road widened back out and led into a small town.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From the distance, it looked idyllic; as I drove through it looked frozen in time. A string of 1940\u2019s and \u201950\u2019s cars were parked in front of Sal\u2019s<\/em>, a mom-and-pop diner. Across the street was an Esso gas station with a sign proclaiming, \u201cFinest Gasoline: $0.27 \/ gal\u201d. The gas pumps were even the old style, and I had no doubt they didn\u2019t work but were for show. Every one of the ancient cars were in amazing condition. It seemed I had stumbled on a town full of classic car buffs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A Woolworth\u2019s sat down the street; I had no idea there were any of those left. Next to it was the post office and a barber shop. The barber sat in a chair on the sidewalk reading a newspaper with a headline that declared \u201cCoup in Egypt: King Farouk Ousted.\u201d An appliance and furniture store had old console-type black and white televisions in the front window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After parking next to one of my dream vehicles, a 1948 Dodge Power Wagon truck with a small dent on the right rear fender, I headed into the diner. Seeing how everyone was dressed, I got the feeling that perhaps I had stumbled into a movie set. Not seeing any cameras or film crew, though, I sat at the bar and asked for a cup of coffee. One thing that struck me was the total lack of diversity. I hadn\u2019t seen a single non-white face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The waitress, a plump, middle-aged woman of peachy-pink complexion with blonde hair in a medium-length curly wave, dressed in a pink uniform with a matching pink name tag labeling her as Iris<\/em>, poured a cup and asked, \u201cAnything to eat, hon?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, thanks,\u201d I said, \u201ccan you tell me where I am, where to get gas, and how to get to I-80?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEye eighty?\u201d she asked. \u201cNever heard of it. Gas is across the street.\u201d She stared at me over her half-frame glasses. \u201cYou\u2019re lost, ain\u2019t ya? Well, you\u2019ll find your way around soon enough.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m trying to drive coast to coast but not on the freeways. If you could tell me how to get to Toledo, I\u2019d be able to get myself back on track.\u201d I looked up and saw a sign I hadn\u2019t noticed when I entered. It read, \u201cWhites Only.\u201d I couldn\u2019t get out of there fast enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t get there from here,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t know if she was making a joke or not, her face didn\u2019t give anything away. The coffee was weak and bitter, not a good cup at all. I pulled out a credit card to pay, and Iris looked at it like it was something foreign.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI guess you don\u2019t take plastic,\u201d I said. \u201cHow much?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFive cents.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I pulled out a dollar and laid it on the bar. \u201cThanks, Iris. I guess I\u2019ll gas up and get back on the road.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSure. You do that, hon.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next thing I knew, I was waking up in my car. I was still parked in the same place, but everything had changed. The old cars were replaced with new; the Power Wagon was now a Dodge Ram truck with a dent in the same location. The old Chevys, Fords and Chryslers had been replaced with newer models, and even a few imports. The Esso had been updated to an ExxonMobil station with modern pumps and a convenience store.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked at the diner, which was now called \u201cWhirled Peas Grill.\u201d The Woolworth\u2019s had been replaced with a strip mall, the barbershop with a nail salon and a Starbuck\u2019s, and the furniture and appliance store was now a Kroger grocery store.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Had I dreamt the whole thing?<\/em> The town was small, but certainly modern, and more diverse than most small towns.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I walked into the diner again, or was it for the first time? The layout was the same, but the decor was completely different. I sat in the same stool at the bar, and a stout, middle-aged woman with a deep-brown complexion, bright brown eyes behind square-framed glasses, and graying hair in small, neat dreadlocks approached. Her clothes were modern, but the pink name tag was identical to the one I remembered, the name \u201cIris\u201d plain as day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBack so soon?\u201d she asked. Her smirk made me think that someone might be playing an elaborate prank on me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s\u2026going on?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re about to ask me again how to get somewhere, and I\u2019m going to tell you again, you can\u2019t get there from here.\u201d She sighed. \u201cIt always takes the new ones so long to figure out they ain\u2019t lost.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I decided I\u2019d had enough of the nonsense and returned to my car. Less than a quarter of a tank remained. I pulled into the gas station and refilled. It wasn\u2019t difficult to remember the way I\u2019d come, as the main road ran straight through town.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I drove out of the town, ready to tackle the gravel logging road again to get back to where I\u2019d come from. It didn\u2019t take long for the road to turn into the narrow, winding track.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I reached the peak, I sped up, taking the road at an unsafe speed. I just wanted to get back to someplace sane. Before I knew it, the road opened back up and I found myself heading back into the town\u2026from the other side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hadn\u2019t turned off the road at any point. There hadn\u2019t been anywhere to<\/em> turn off. Yet here I was again. There was a Hispanic man sitting outside the Starbuck\u2019s with an open laptop. He reminded me of\u2026no, he was<\/em>\u2026the barber that had been reading the paper. He watched me slow to a stop in the middle of the street and laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After parking in the same space I\u2019d been in before, the tank still reading full, I walked the town. I could feel all eyes on me. As I walked past the site of the former Woolworth\u2019s, a small woman stepped out of the real estate office there and waved me in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She had amber eyes with sun-touched, golden skin, long, straight, inky black hair and a wide smile. \u201cCome in,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The interior of the office was what one would expect in a strip mall; cheap, industrial-grade brown carpet, beige walls, blue plastic chairs with chrome legs, and on the wall an Ohio state realtor\u2019s license for one Victoria Yun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She motioned to a chair in front of the single desk in the office. \u201cPlease, have a seat. I\u2019m Victoria, and I have the perfect condo for you. It\u2019s in a converted, turn-of-the-century three-story, just a couple of blocks from here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was a small pile of paperwork on her desk, on top of which rested a house key on a Yun Realty<\/em> keychain. I looked at the paperwork and the key and shook my head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat makes you think I want to rent or buy a condo here?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat makes you think you don\u2019t?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI already have a home, and I just want to get back there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think you understand.\u201d Her eyes turned solid black as a scowl crossed her face. \u201cYou are here, and there is no more there<\/em> for you.\u201d Just as quickly as it had appeared, it was replaced with a warm smile and her bright, amber eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis is ridiculous! This whole town is nuts.\u201d I stood to leave, and she grabbed my arm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t want to leave now,\u201d she said, \u201cno one will let you in after dark.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf I can\u2019t leave town to work, how can I pay rent or mortgage?\u201d I checked my phone again, still no signal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not something you need to worry about anymore.\u201d She picked up the paperwork and key. \u201cLet me at least show it to you before you make up your mind.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFine.\u201d I don\u2019t know why I agreed, except that her surprisingly tight grip on my arm made me feel I had no choice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We walked the two blocks to the old house, and she opened a side door with the key. Inside, the one-bedroom unit boasted top-of-the-line appliances, hardwood floors, and a spacious spa bath. The unit was fully furnished, including clothes\u2026my clothes<\/em> from home filled the closet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I ran to the kitchen and opened the fridge. There was my<\/em> bottle of imported porter, waiting for my return home. I took it out, found my<\/em> hand-forged bottle opener in the drawer where I would expect to have put it in this kitchen, and popped the top.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Without taking my eyes off her, I drank the entire bottle and put the empty on the counter. I returned to the fridge and opened it up to grab a snack. The bottle I\u2019d taken was back there, full. I spun around, and the bottle that I\u2019d set on the counter was gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat the hell is this place?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not<\/em> hell,\u201d Victoria said. She slid the paperwork toward me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was a deed of title in my name, with no mention of money anywhere. Her signature was already on her portion. She handed me a pen and pointed at the line on the last page. \u201cJust sign here and we\u2019re all set,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat is this place?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe mostly just call it \u2018The Town\u2019, but I guess you could call it limbo? Maybe purgatory?\u201d She shrugged. \u201cDoes it matter? This is where you live now, like it or not.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cH\u2014how long have you lived here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI got here in 1925,\u201d she said with a smile, \u201cin the truck you parked next to\u2026a former version of it, anyway. It\u2019s nice when we get a new resident and things update.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cUpdate how?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEverything you experienced helps shape the town. Or hadn\u2019t you noticed? Luis got here in \u201952, and you\u2019re the first since then,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf you say so. What happens if I don\u2019t sign?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll sleep in your car,\u201d she said, \u201cif you dare. I wouldn\u2019t recommend it, though.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She looked at her watch. \u201cOh, it\u2019s already dark; I should\u2019ve realized when the beer reset. We\u2019ll have to stay the night here. You get the couch.\u201d Without waiting for a reply, she went into the bedroom and locked the door behind her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I opened the front door to the darkness that had fallen too fast for a normal sunset. The night was wrong<\/em>. Fog rolled across the ground in a dense wave, smothering the town; it smelled of damp soil and decay. Some instinctual part of my mind cowered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dread gripped my heart, which thudded and skipped and threatened to jump out of my throat. Screams of something primal\u2026something primeval<\/em>\u2026echoed in the distance. The sound of great, leathery wings flapping overhead, followed by a crash at the eaves three floors up, drove me back indoors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I bolted the door behind me and retreated to the bathroom, where I curled up in the fetal position, hidden in the spa tub. Victoria woke me in the morning with a smile. \u201cReady to sign?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nodding meekly, I followed her into the kitchen and signed the paperwork. She handed me my copy and the key.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou should move your car before tonight,\u201d she said. \u201cIris lets me slide, but she might get mad if you leave yours there much longer.\u201d She leaned in close and whispered, \u201cAnd you really<\/em> don\u2019t want to see Iris mad. She\u2019s been here eons, and she\u2019s\u2026seen<\/em> things. She\u2019s the only<\/em> one brave enough to go out at night.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I followed her back to the main street and got into my car and started it up; less than a quarter of a tank. I parked near my condo and looked up at the house. Large claw marks marred the eaves where something had perched the night before. The sound of the scream in the night echoed in my memory. This was my life\u2026afterlife?\u2026now, like it or not, and I resolved to never<\/em> open the door after dark again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

prompt:\u00a0Set your story in a town disconnected from the rest of the world. available at Reedsy My GPS got me lost\u2026well, that and my desire to take the scenic route and avoid the freeways. The …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[208],"tags":[210,221,209],"class_list":["post-2307","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-trunk-stories","tag-fiction","tag-horror","tag-short-story"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pxT7i-Bd","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2307","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2307"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2307\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2308,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2307\/revisions\/2308"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2307"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2307"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2307"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}