This is my home. The place I’ve lived for a whole three years. but this is my last stop. The next time I move, it’s the end.
It is a parody of the neighborhoods you see in old movies, and tv sitcoms. Each house is the same, varying only in slight different paint colors. Each lawn is manicured to perfection, not a leaf, nor thorn, nor stone out of place. Where there was once a beautiful view, there are now only houses in the process of being built. Children roam around aimlessly, adults stay holed up inside their cookie cutter houses, and watch tv. Cars of all types- trucks, vans, motorcycles- pass by slowly. A bus crawls down the poorly maintained road, dropping of smatterings of children every half mile or so. There is the appearance of happiness, and peace, but there is also an undertone of sadness. The people who have migrated out here are hiding from something. From their pasts. Something in the old gas station, in the one restaurant that has no real schedule, tells a story. Homemade signs advertise all means of work that needs doing or can be done. An old church with a beaten down playground sits, slouching, across from the schools.
Somehow, even absent of sirens, car horns, and screaming matches, the silence is more deafening then ever. The long, winding road that connects this sad parody of a community is littered with broken glass, animal carcasses, and cows. The most life this road sees is the ten days when the fair is being held. There is no warmth in this town, like there is in the other, more developed communities. Only longing. Most of the people who live here do not stay long, only until they get their feet off of the ground, then they are gone. When yet another family moves out, the taste of envy poisons the air. Everyone wishes to be that family, moving on to better things.