Fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die

Silverhill, Alabama; Population: 375. A town so desolate due to the towering pines and cell service that simply does not exist. Long, winding roads that lead you from one open wheat field to another, pastures with cows roaming and turkeys crossing at any minute. Quite a menacing view for someone from the city — the type of view that could make your skin crawl if you spared a thought to how much time would be wasted running for your life across the open graze — and yet, such a place for the person whose eye for beauty far outweighed their worry — the person with a little more guts. Silverhill had many pros indeed; beautiful rolling hills and flat paths to guide you home in a matter of minutes, and, certainly, the townspeople are somewhat friendly. That is, of course, only if you don't cross them in the slightest, because then the whole town will be on you, practically dragging you out by your hair.

To most who arrive in Silverhill, all the little tricks of the town are invisible to the naked eye, people usually figuring it out the hard way. One place you are guaranteed a treat is the infamous abandoned house in Uncanny Valley, a name given about a year after it was forced there; when it was last touched before the men of the town shackled it up. With its busted windows and rotting joints, no one dared to fix it or move in. Alas, the history of the building remains a mystery to the newest visitor of Silverhill, Alamaba, a young man by the name of Louis Tomlinson.

Unfortunately for Mr. Louis Tomlinson, he had just spent most of his life savings to buy said house in Uncanny Valley, and he was going to make the most of it. But luckily he had inherited money from a recently deceased great-great-aunt, giving him the opportunity to move out here in the first place and build it up again. It was a perfect choice — he had always wanted a home of his own and with this house, he could make one exactly the way he had always dreamed.

"This is gonna need some serious elbow grease, innit?" Louis mutters as he squints towards the house, illuminated as the mid-morning sun shimmers behind it, setting down the last of his luggage.

Gerald Harrison, the stumpy real estate man who Louis has followed there, hums. He is clearly irritated and possibly even nervous, offering no help as he watches the other lad unpack the car. Any time Louis talks, Gerald's mind seems to be off in the distance thinking of something else.

"Well, Gerald, thanks for everything," Louis says sincerely, waiting for a response from the flustered man.

Gerald holds out his clipboard, donned with the last bit of paperwork, a form saying that this property is basically his forever and there is no going back. It is odd, but this is a first for Louis, so he signs it with little hesitation. The smaller man shifts his eyes to the pavement while digging in his front pocket. Handing the clipboard back, Louis holds his hand out with excitement thrumming through his body.

A look of grief falls upon Gerald's face, his lips settling in a tight frown. Plopping a set of keys into Louis' palm with a look dripping in what seems to be relief, the young man takes them with gusto, too absorbed in his own excitement to be aware of the potent anxiety pouring out of Gerald's very being. Grinning brightly, Louis turns to take in the sight of his home one more time. A question pops into his head, so he turns back to ask the other.

"Hey, Ger—" Louis cuts himself off. The blue car and Gerald are gone — vanished into thin air. He furrows his brows, shaking his head and shrugging before walking back to the front door.

The key slides in, a metallic click sounding before Louis has to shove his shoulder against the heavy wood to loosen it up and gain entry, a stuttered squeak emitting from the door as it opens. When he does make it in, he is met with cobwebs, dusty counters and floors, and not a single working light. Thankfully, Louis was previously informed of the condition the house was in and so he had, only logically, run to the store before the meet-up to stock up on supplies for basic needs — cleaning items, tarp, tape, etcetera.