#scary night
strange things happen here at night.
our lush forests turn gnarled and decayed, their elderly trunks contorting into terrifying scowls.
the wildflower patches wither and dissipate. their cheerful spots of color alongside our roads transform into a grim reminder that we are not in control of other lives around us. we have yet to find out who the warning is for.
the welcome sign out front casts eerie shadows onto the ground when struck with the sickly headlights of passing vehicles. the beveled lettering that declare our town’s name is more wary than welcoming. perhaps it is a warning. we have yet to know.
the wolves only make their existence known at nightfall, yet never show their faces. the only evidence of them is their haunting howls, leaping and twirling their twisted dance up towards the cold, cold moon.
the corn harbor none at all times, yet glowing eyes stare out from between their stalks. the eyes belong to no one. the eyes belong to everyone. we know nothing. we shall not know anything.
the air is still at night. stiff. uneasy. not even the wind dares to blow. she knows they want silence at night. not even she dares to defy the universe’s unshakable power. the town does not inhale a single breath until the sun peeks out from above the horizon at morning.
roads seem to appear from the ground after sunset. they seem typical to unknowing eyes, but keener ones notice their lack of street signs guarding their entrance. those street signs mean safety. stories circulate through the grapevine about passerby traveling along those roads and never seeing the sun again. we aren’t sure if they’re true. we’re just sure that we don’t know this town as well as we thought we did.
strange things happen here at night.
