#unnamed wip

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The kids are playing in the street. You can hear their joyful singing. The closer you get, the clearer the lyrics become. The children shouldn’t be singing these songs…
There’s a large field on the outskirts of town. It’s just tall grass. But you don’t go there.
There’s a road that leads to nowhere. It’s not quite out of order… But it leads to nowhere. The townsfolk call it Poppy’s Way. They never quite explain who Poppy is.
The only thing on the radio spread through the town is static except for one station. It only plays songs from a forgotten time and news that come decades too late to be new.
Usually the town is bustling the noises and mouvement but sometimes you can swear people stop talking when you exit the room.
Sometimes, on a Sunday, all the phones will start ringing, even those who haven’t rang in years. No one ever picks up. People go on with their day as though nothing happened. What would happen if you picked up the phone ?
There’s a large sign at the largest cross road in town : “Don’t trust the orange light.”
Every once in a while you can hear a gunshot. It’s not that unusual. But you never hear about it in the news.
Ol’ Joe isn’t old. He looks like he’s 20. Yesterday he was gone. People say he moved, but you’re not quite sure anyone can move away from this town.
There are two churches in town. The one you go to, and the one you stay away from.
There’s a large home that looks like it once belonged to a slave owner, but there aren’t any plantations anywhere near. Every once in a while, you can see light inside. Someone lives there. The townsfolk never tell you who.
When you pass by the Church People Mustn’t Go To you hear whispers of salvation. No one else seems to hear the voices.
The waitress is singing a song. You don’t know the memory. You don’t know the lyrics. You don’t know the language. She hasn’t stopped singing in an hour.
If you aren’t sleeping by the time 2 am comes : close your windows.
The cicadas haven’t stopped singing since March. No one knows what’ll happen when their chant is over.
In the center of town there’s a large sign. There’s nothing written on it. Nothing you can read at least. The townspeople stand, looking at it for a long time before nodding and walking away.
Where do the dead bodies go ?
You’ve been here for a few days. You’re not quite sure in which state you are or where you come from anymore. All you know is that there is nothing other than the town. Not for another 50 miles.
There is no lake here. The townspeople come together to talk about the Lake every Tuesday.
If you ask the mayor for her name. She will smile and walk away.