Our Small Town

Chapter One

The beauty of a small town like Altonville was that everyone knew everyone. And everyone was friends. The total population of Altonville, pre-incident, was 250. The residents were happy.

Or so thought Rowan Smith.

It wasn't too often that a newcomer moved into Altonville, so when they did, it was quite the celebration indeed. A huge barbecue was thrown at the park in honor of his moving there.

I'm afraid, my dear readers, that this was the beginning of the end.

You see, had you or I been at that barbecue, we'd have noticed right away that everything seemed a bit... TOO idyllic. A bit TOO perfect.

But Rowan could not see this. Nor could Jenna. And that is how they met.

Rowan was already growing quite uncomfortable, and he really could not tell why. (Maybe, I suppose, he did notice some of the things I did instantly, or maybe not- all I know is that he felt quite discomforted.) So he rose from his park bench and took a walk down a path.

The path led him closer and closer to a small copse of trees, known to the natives of Altonville as "The Grove." Eerily, Rowan found himself drawn to the Grove, as if pulled by some foul magic. No- there it was. The noise. Rowan made quite a jump at the sound of it-

-the sound of a girl sobbing.

In an effort to find her, and with a considerable lack in horror-movie experience, he called out loudly, "HELLO?!?"

The sobs answered. "Go away."

"Well, I guess I could. I mean, I'm new here, and I don't know your name or how to get back to my house."

In Altonville, the curiosity of a newcomer overwhelms all emotions. It happens so rarely. And so, a short, pale girl with black hair and purple eyes stepped out from the bushes and walked over to Rowan.

Unceremoniously she poked him in the chest.

And so began the greatest friendship ever seen on the face of this planet.

Seen, past tense.