Bakersfield

The village

Pulling up to a golden barley field rippling in the wind, I slammed my grungy car's door shut. In the distance the town stood, smaller than I expected. The town appeared average and dated, nothing out of the ordinary. Setting off I couldn't help but let my eyes wander to the dark, looming a thousand mile high forest beside Bakersfield. It was captivating, dense and thick with almost no colour but the deepest moss green I have ever laid my eyes on. Something about it made me wary, although at the same time I couldn't look away.

Upon arrival, the town was barren. Not a soul could be seen. Silence hung around corners in heavy blankets. The type of silence that seemed more than unnatural. The buildings looked well-kept and some well used. As I continued to walk down the wide, pristine, cobbled street I noticed an old pub with its lights on. Interested, I walked in finding it to my despair, rather empty and lifeless.

Withdrawn, I slumped down onto the nearest bar stool and hopefully rang the rusted bell. Da-ding. Footsteps sounded in the kitchen behind the rotting bar. Patiently, an old woman stepped out. Her hair fell down to her wool covered shoulders in frosty wisps, her lips were dark and thin almost stained with ink, and her eyes. I shall never forget those eyes. As if marbles, they rolled in my direction in a painstaking way that looked like glass on sand paper, distant and unattached. The more I observed her the more freakish her actions became. Her limbs seemed disjointed and wooden. Every movement was sharp, unpredictable. Swallowing my fear I suggested if I could ask her a few questions. The old lady motioned her head in such a small manner to signify a nod and calmly sat behind the bar across from me.

"Hello, my names Rachel, Rachel Gyan. I'm a reporter from KGD. There were reports of missing children from a while back. Would you care to elaborate?" As I finished, overwhelmed by this woman's presence, her mouth crooked into a smirk. My heart beat quickening I stared even more intently awaiting an answer. Hesitantly her thin lips parted, growing steadily into a wide smile like snarl. Her mouth, now open, glittered with hundreds of razor sharp needles. The more the smile transformed, the slower time became.