My Encounters with a Paper Bag

Chapter One

I coasted my bike to the curb looking around to insure no one had noticed my abrupt, uncoordinated stop. They hadn't. I swung my leg over the seat, and purposely "forgot" to chain it down. In my opinion, this was a waste of time.  Winstorville was a town where everyone knew everyone, and no one would swoop low enough to steel a bicycle.  The sun fell across my face.  I felt my face redden from the heat. Across the street, I watched as a huddle of people squinting against the sun to read the day's events and jobs available pinned against the bulletin . A hand or two reaching up to steel away the better jobs before the "cherry pickers" came for them. "Cherry pickers" was the name the community informally agreed upon because it properly suited them more than anything else. They were the folks who came in late and would snake jobs out from under the innocent and naïve. They had extreme skill in areas, but they failed in most others. They had such luck with certain tasks, they didn't have to get up at 5 every morning and walk to the Edenton Circle like the regulars. They could just steel the jobs from the young, old, or injured who had trouble completing these seemingly intelligible tasks. They were lowly and highly disliked. I was not one of them. I walked to the tack board and scanned my eyes over the colorful pieces of paper tacked there. All of them with vibrant colors excluding the few that were old and dirty. These were the "Unhirables" they were the jobs no one wanted no matter how much they needed he money. Accepting these jobs would mean admitting to your own poverty. Which at this point, everyone was poor from the depression. Unhireables included: waste management, dangerous factory work, and CDA (working at a cemetery). Most of the other Unhirables were unreadable. Since no one wanted to even be seen touching these papers, they eluded even the strongest curiosities.  I saw nothing that pleased me with my first glance. I never did. I looked through again. One job seemed to look... Well... I wouldn't say fun or appealing. It is more of... Less demeaning and unbearable than the rest. It wasn't like my normal jobs. On a normal day I would work for Mr. Thomson at the mail room. Something felt intriguing about this paper.
I snatched the paper from the protruding staples. As I walked back to my bike. As I walked a passed by a man. I was so busy in thought it hadn't occur to me that the man I passed wasn't the normal guy. He wore a paper bag over his face with only two holes to see through.
"It's rude to stare" I thought
I continued on and swung my leg over the seat of my bike still leaned against a post and headed for the address printed below the date March 11th, 3011.
"204 Springer Road"  I read aloud. 
I swung around the corner and I was gone. The maintenance level of the road fell as I traveled farther away from Edenton Circle. I questioned my direction several times only to find I was headed the right way, but where was that?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I found myself at the foot of a old showroom house. It appeared to be untouched for centuries. I glanced through the paper again. A sudden fear swept across my body. Had I grabbed an Unhirable by mistake. That fear was quickly dispersed by the cognizance that the date printed match the current one. This couldn't be. Could it? I began up the wooden steps.  A blood curdling screech scared me white on the site. I pause to catch my breath. Not a building in site. I worried.  The second steps cry was just as loud as the first. This time it wasn't me to jump. Three fowl arose from their nesting. The flew away. I almost wished I could do the same . Before approaching the door I strained to discern the black and grey blobs beyond the windows. The even coat of dust blocked my view. I knocked against the door feeling strange about doing so to a shop door. No answer. I knocked again.  No answer. I turned to lean against a wash white, wood rail.  I pulled a four-way-folded colorful paper out of my shorts and scanned the ad more carefully. Not a single part described what the job was.
"Why had I grabbed this in the first place? Why didn't I get a better one?" I thought.
My thought were ceased my an unfamiliar... "Click".
I analyzed the sound before turning. It donned on my how long it had been since the sound rang through the air. It was in fact a sound that I had heard before. It was the sound of a door clicking closed.
"Had the door opened why I was not looking?" I thought
I turned around to see a yellow note taped to the old brown door. I shook with fear. "Do I read the note or leave now?"
So many questions, still no answers. I sit there with all of them in mind wondering what to do next.