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.
The streets stop suddenly and drop away to sand. A giant claw came out of the sky and dug Eldritch up and out of society. Dropped it in the middle of the desert. This is what the people of Eldritch believe. No one has told them otherwise, so it is truth. No one has ever left Eldritch. You're born there. You die there. It's starts all over again. This calms the people of Eldritch, a perfect routine of life.
Karen and Rebecca are different though. There's no real explanation of how they got to the city limits of Eldritch. One day nothing, next day here. The people of Eldritch had panicked, but only for a moment. The trailer was outside city limits. The balance was still intact. They came around to the idea of Rebecca and Karen and their mysterious trailer. They've been in the trailer ever since. They come and go as they please, though neither understand how. Rebecca takes her business trips. Karen takes her sick days. One or the other, never both, for the trailer has never been left alone. There's always the chance it wouldn't be there when they got back.
On this day, Karen was the one in the chair. Sweat dripped down her back in rivulets, pooling in the chair beneath her. She had chopped her hair just that morning; no bun would be enough to keep her cool through the day. She used a jagged knife. The ends were left jagged too.
Only three customers that day, there for the Good Stuff. Only suppliers were Rebecca and Karen, so they had an advantage. People paid with secrets. Money meant nothing to Rebecca and Karen. Knowledge was power, but the people of Eldritch didn't know that. They enjoyed their free therapy and left with the Good Stuff. The people of Eldritch are a clueless folk.
The afternoon was lazy. The Eldritch crows liked to fly over the trailer, they're attracted to the smell. Karen had once asked Rebecca where the smell came from. She had said it was none of Karen's damn business. Rebecca could be moody sometimes. Karen liked her anyway.
She sat in the chair and waited for nothing. Karen was used to the lull in the day, no business, just a penny for a thought. She had been doing this a long time now, standing at her post. She and Rebecca had they're part to play in Eldritch, and every show had to go on. She guessed one more client would come along before she could retire to the trailer.
But it wasn't a client at all that walked up to the trailer. The people of Eldritch have a very specific look to them. Hollow, would be the word for it. They walk around on autopilot, following routines of the day. The kids are bad, and they get worse every day, because that is their setting. The adults are conniving and sneaky, and they play their part very well. They are a delicate folk, the people of Eldritch. Be careful what you say. It may be the last sentence you utter.
A man walked up to the trailer, not from around here. His hair was too clean, his shoes unscuffed. He had never been touched by the town of Eldritch, never been over the town line. Karen could tell by the life in his eye, his questioning look at the town dropped in the middle of nowhere. From the outside, the town is an eyesore. To the people of Eldritch, it is perfect.
He looked between the trailer and the town before walking towards Karen. Her sunglasses helped hide her eyes, giving her the upper hand. She took a long drag from the cigarette, then spit it into the sand. She dug a lollipop out of her back pocket and stuck it in her mouth. Her mouth was dry. She thought it might help.
"Excuse me, ma'am." His voice screamed outsider. The people of Eldritch would hear his otherness from miles away. They wouldn't touch him, go near him, see him. He would be a pariah, a plague.
Unless they were the violent type.
"Do you happen to know where to find the town of Eldritch."
"There," Karen said shortly, pointing in the direction of Eldritch. She let out an annoyed huff as she did so. She knew he had seen the town. She did not like polite, pointless questions.
"Is it a town, really? I've never seen a town like that."
"The town has never seen a person like you, so it goes both ways."
He pondered that for a moment as he studied the hazy town. A few people milled along the outskirts of town, but they didn't look over at Karen and the man. They very rarely saw outside the town limits, only to visit Rebecca and Karen for the Good Stuff. The outside world was invisible.
"I'm hoping to get a job," the man said.
"I wouldn't hope too hard. You'll never get a job in Eldritch." The lollipop popped from her mouth with a satisfying pop.
He looked disgruntled by her words, taking them personally. He didn't know what she meant, so he couldn't be blamed for being upset. "I am a very well educated man. I'm sure they'll have a job for me."
"Education can guarantee they won't hire you to wipe their assholes." Rebecca was better with new clients. Everyone knew not to talk to Karen too much when picking up the Good Stuff. Strictly business, no patience for long conversation. The man hadn't gotten the memo.
They stared at each other for some time, the man growing more suspicious by the minute. He had taken a bus for what felt like days, then suddenly popped up here next to the trailer. The ad had said the job was to die for. He had liked the ad's enthusiasm.
"I'm not sure what's going on here, or who you are, but I'm going to interview for a job now. Can't say it was nice talking to you." He turned to leave, but Karen was curious. She couldn't remember the last time someone popped up near Eldritch.
"You won't come back, you know," Karen said, letting her voice carry over the hot sand. Her words were like a hook, yanking the man's head back around to look at her.
"Is that a threat, ma'am? Because I don't take kindly to threats."
Karen ignored the man's complaining and beckoned him closer. He hesitated at first, but soon gave into his curiosity and stepped up to the squat chair. His shoes were dustier than when he arrived, and Karen thought about the town and the little ways it stuck to you. Something had already changed about the man, and he hadn't even stepped over the line yet.
"Eldritch isn't like other towns. In fact, it's like no other town anywhere. You can't find it on a map, you can't find it if you look away for even a second. Easier to stow away people that way. The town teleports between different dimensions to help mask its kidnappings. At least, that's what they say in Eldritch."
The man stood and looked down on the woman named Karen. Her hair was jagged short, her skin streaked with dust. She had a rough and tough look about her, the man thought to himself, and took a visible step back. He noticed a dog meandering around the trailer, missing one ear and walking with a significant limp. His smell was permeating through the air, and even with the distance between him and the dog, the man thought he might vomit from the odor.
"Mr. Piggles. Picked him up right over there," Karen said, pointing in a random direction. "He's grumpy, most times. But he's got character. Always important to have a dog with character."
The man was becoming more and more impatient with their strange conversation. He had a meeting to get to, and this weird lady was making him late.
"Can you please just point me in the direction of the post office? I'm interviewing to be the head manager. I have lots of experience, so I'm sure they'll be eager to hire me." The man had an arrogance about him. Arrogance didn't do well in the town of Eldritch, Karen thought to herself.
"Burned down. The post office I mean," Karen said simply. "A mob attacked late one night. Believed the mail had been poisoned. Not sure how you poison mail, but can't explain that to the people of Eldritch. Won't hear nothing about it from an outsider."
"Aren't you a citizen of Eldritch?"
"God, no. Wouldn't have it, the people of Eldritch. They accept me and my business partner because we understand them. They have their boundaries, and we have ours. It's harmonious living in this here desert." Karen spread her arms wide to show off her riches. A tumbleweed rolled past. The man thought he might have heard it whisper something as it passed.
"Well, I'm not sure if I even believe you. Strangers in trailers are rarely reliable sources of information. That's just an intelligent way to think about these things."
Karen just stared back at the man, observing him. Along with his clean hair and unscuffed shoes, his glasses were also clear of smudges. His tie was straight, his shirt tucked in. He looked like he was all business. Karen wanted to tell him he'd have a better chance getting hired wearing a pair of booty shorts and coconut bra, but she knew it would be a waste of breath.
After a while, she spoke up. "Maybe you're right. Maybe you shouldn't believe me. I mean, I'm not even a citizen of Eldritch. But perhaps you will believe someone who does live there. Here comes someone now."
Sure enough, a figure was walking towards the trailer from the edge of town. Just as she had suspected, this was her last client of the day. Karen bent over and opened the cooler at her side, picked up a small package, then turned back to watch the figure make its way across the sand.
Karen knew the figure. Jerold was a regular at Rebecca and Karen's. His pants stopped just before his ankles and his sneakers were always untied. His shirt hung off his frail frame, two sizes too big for his small body. On his head sat a propeller beanie, the colors standing out brightly against the monochromatic sand. The propeller was spinning at a steady pace, but there was no wind. The hat was always spinning, even indoors.
Jerold's pace was steady, until he noticed the man standing just right of the trailer. He slowed, like a cat who has just seen a mouse in a corner. His eyes never left the man as he made his way over to the squat chair, where Karen was waiting patiently.
"There's a man standing there," Jerold said loudly, his voice a couple octaves too high.
"Yes, Jerold. He's looking for a job," Karen replied.
Jerold suddenly snapped his head around to look Karen straight in the eye. "He can't go in there. He's not allowed."
"That's what I told him, Jerold. He's a stubborn one."
Jerold seemed to think this over for a minute before turning to look at the man again. The man hadn't moved since Jerold walked up and he eyed him apprehensively. Maybe the man wasn't so stupid after all.
"He doesn't look right," Jerold said un-ironically.
"Told him that too. Stubborn."
"You can't be here," Jerold shouted at the man, scaring him half to death. "They won't like this in Eldritch, oh no they won't. They'll take your eyeballs from their sockets and cook 'em in soup. It's a good food in Eldritch. Karen will tell you, won't you Karen."
Karen looked over at the man lazily. "That's what they say, Jerold."
"Damn straight it's what they say. I'm they." To assert his point, Jerold slammed his fist through the air like a gavel. Unfortunately, his fist came down on Karen's unsuspecting nose.
Blood burst from her nose, gushing down her face and staining her shirt. Karen, however, seemed unfazed. She quickly swiped her arm across her face, leaving a streak of blood on her sleeve. Under the blood she simply smiled. Jerold didn't apologize.
The man, however, looked horrified. A normal reaction to someone getting punched in the face. Unless you're from Eldritch, that is.
"Good swing there, Jerold. Next time, maybe aim a little better." Karen said lightly. Jerold only grunted in response.
"Give me the Good Stuff. My usual amount." Jerold was becoming impatient at this point. He had been thrown off his routine by the introduction of the man, and he wasn't too happy about it.
Karen bent over and reached into the cooler next to her feet. She retrieved a small package, wrapped up in what looked like a fitted sheet, and handed it over to Jerold. He snatched it from her hands, gave the man one last reproachful look, then stumbled his way back towards the ragged edges of Eldritch. He didn't offer a goodbye, for the people of Eldritch didn't believe in goodbyes. Everyone would be back eventually. They didn't have a choice.
The man was silent as he watched Karen resituate herself in the squat chair. He wasn't quiet long though; Karen was gathering that the man's favorite activity was talking.
"Is everyone there like that?" he asked in the silence.
"No. Jerold is one of the nicer citizens. Should've seen my first appointment. Probably wouldn't still be standing here, to be honest." She reached into her pocket and dug out another cigarette. With a flick of her lighter, she lit the butt end and took a long drag. Her sunglasses glinted in the late afternoon glow.
He turned back to watch Jerold's form move further and further into the city. A chill ran down his back at the thought of following him, walking into town and facing endless people just like Jerold.
"I thought you said they paid in secrets. I didn't hear any secret."
Karen took another long drag before answering. "He didn't have to say his secret. Jerold doesn't wear a propeller beanie, not usually anyway. Gregor wears the beanie. Everyday I've seen him, he's wearing that hat. Hasn't been by in a couple weeks, Gregor. Guess now I know why."
That was the last thing the man needed to hear to make his decision. With a slight tip to his hat, he turned away from Karen, away from Eldritch, and walked back towards the desert. He felt lighter every step he took, with every foot he put between him and the strange, mysterious town. He thought he maybe should've thanked Karen for her warning, but he refused to turn back.
Karen watched the man go, tripping over himself to get away from her little trailer. She wondered when Rebecca would be back. She knew she'd be jealous she had missed something new.
Nothing ever changes in the town of Eldritch.