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The Town of Eldritch

The sun hung low in the sky, causing elongated shadows. Skeletons leering in the sand. Sometimes the crows would fly overhead, tangling around the skeletons like vines. They had a saying about crows over in old Eldritch. No one remembers it now.

It's a funny town, Eldritch. If you're into that sorta thing. Humor.

The folks in the town don't know much. Lots of their news comes from the staticy radios someone found in an old shed once, the voices monotone and slightly off. Crackling, like bacon hitting a frying pan. The news never made much sense. Or maybe it did, just no one believed the information.

It's small, not much to it at all. No more than one thousand people live within city limits. One school. All kids must get an education, even the kids of Eldritch. They sometimes get the facts wrong when on the playground. The teachers don't seem to care. The ignorance is passed along.

One bank. Robbed once a month, depending on who's turn it is. Luck of the Draw, they called it. The concept never made much sense to the people of Eldritch, but they loved it all the same. A raffle for who would get the bank that month. A lucky hand draws the name. A man is rich for thirty days. His bank account reads ten thousand dollars.

The water tower shakes during storms. A storm rings the doorbell of Eldritch upon arrival. It's hollow, except for eight feet of ice cold water, which sloshes around and echoes during windy nights. A low whistle can be heard through the streets after three in the morning, but the people of Eldritch don't mind. The babies are lulled to sleep, Mr. Water Tower singing their favorite song.

There are never more than one thousand persons within city limits. Always has been, always will be. Balance, they call it. When a man falls, a baby is born, it has to equal one thousand. No one in Eldritch knows why it must be. They do it anyway. There are five funeral parlors in a town with only one bank.

There is a catch, as these things often have. The limits are specific. The people of Eldritch are a very literal people.

A single mile outside the limits there lies a trailer. Its wheels are gone, buried within the hot sand. The metal is tarnished, but in a stylish way. Its antenna is broken, but it hangs on through every storm. A ruthless bastard.

There are three potted plants next to the door. They stand tall in the sun, lay low in the moon. Beer cans litter the lawn, keeping company with cigarette butts and old socks. It's a party, all trash invited. That was once the prom slogan. The kids loved it.

There are two chairs that sit in front of the rotting trailer. One stands tall, another squat. They stay there, through rain or shine. Sometimes one will fall over, but it's always fixed the next day. Wouldn't want to spook the people of Eldritch. They aren't too keen on change.

Karen had seen it once before. First day she had arrived, backpack slung over one shoulder. Not much to possess, the bag was just for show. Aesthetic, one might say. It was a dingy thing with holes in the side, so it had to be held just right. Karen had always been stubborn. Letting things go wasn't her forte.

The wind was still as she sat in the squat chair. Rebecca had the tall chair. Everyone knew that.

Rebecca wasn't there now, though. Business trip, she had said. She took those a lot nowadays. Karen pretended not to notice when these trips started. Tim went away five months ago. Rebecca wishes she had gone along with him.

Karen took a drag from the cigarette dangling from her lips. Through the smoke she looked out over the jagged edge of the Town of Eldritch. Nothing for miles in four directions. No map in the world can find it. Eldritch has been hiding for years and years. It's gotten pretty good at keeping itself unknown.