Nowhereville

Indeed, the prospect of another night in the old house terrified me. Heck, even going back there in broad daylight was deeply unsettling. Though I kept trying to project some rationality onto the information I had just heard, Moriarty’s account had not reassured me in any way. If anything, it had added potential hypochondria to the list of my worries.

Dilworth eventually returned to his store while I paid for the coffee and my breakfast. Moriarty also took his leave, announcing that he was going back to the funerary parlor. I was invited to join them later that evening at the saloon for a few drinks, and was promised an alternate account of the recent happenings from the bartender, Joseph Pound. From what I could gather from the two, Pound was a rather shady figure whose lecture of choice was the Malleus Maleficarum, and who took a less than healthy interest in the works of Aleister Crowley.

As I exited the diner, I checked my watch. It had stopped working. “This town appears to take its toll on everything,” I thought. I smoked another cigarette while inspecting the window of the general store and waved jovially at Dilworth, who was observing me from the counter.

The western skies basked in the red glow of the already setting sun. Having left my house just after noon, I had barely realized the passing of the time. I had unnoticeably whiled away several good hours in the diner. Still, the occurrence of the sunset still seemed uncannily early, especially in the desert. The night seemed to hurry on its way.

The feeling of isolation, which this town had rendered so familiar, enveloped me once again as I began my march home. The solitary setting sun accompanied me for the better part of the way. Its last dying rays were swallowed by the earth as I reached the house. The bluish dusk once again reigned over the eerie town as I fumbled with the old lock on the front door. Some sort of subconscious warning urged me to wiggle the key faster and faster.

“Hello there John.”

Not fast enough.

I turned ever so slowly to face Kari’s house. Sure enough, there she was, leaning over the fence, grinning like a ventriloquist’s dummy.

“Hello Kari.”

“What were you up to today?” Her head was lolling from side to side. Once again she reminded me of a marionette, and old puppet forgotten in the basement of an old Victorian theater.

“Just out and about.”

“Oh, how fascinating. Did you find our town entertaining? I sure hope you did.”

“Yes, by all means.”

“Then just wait until dark. You’ll have a blast.”