Something Strange

Dinner and some gnomes

I watched as the mover truck parked at the edge of the yard belonging to my new home, a shabby duplex with peeling sickly yellow paint and a cracked window.
"No wonder the rent is so low." I grumbled to myself as I moved myself to the front door, opening it for the gentlemen carrying my furniture.

"Just place the boxes in the kitchen please." I answered the unasked question, pointing to the single wall separating the kitchen from the living room as on of the men passed me.
Sincerely I wished to have not moved so far from home. But the nightmares and my restlessness got the better of me. My family agreed a change in scenery was what I needed.

I hope Greg will be okay.

I directed the men more as they started carrying in my furniture. Sofa, recliner, and bookshelf in the the living room; mattress and side table in the bedroom; the dinner table and chairs in, of course, the dining room.
It was early evening when my belongings were in the general areas of where they belong. I paid the men their dues and tipped them each fairly before bidding them farewell.

Looking back to the open door of my new home, the hollow feeling of loneliness engulfed me.
I don't want to be alone right now. Maybe I can find some social interaction with the locals. And dinner as well.

I approached the still open door only to shut it and lock it, twisting the knob to make sure the lock was secure, before turning towards the road.

The town itself wasn't very big so I wouldn't need my car to get around, something my hometown was as well.
I saw a small diner on the drive into town. It seemed like a decent place to be.

Woodland surrounded the town almost ominously, I noted tensely. Most of trees lining the private properties were pine with the occasional oak in the yard. No redwood.

Turning on the road away from the trees and further into town I began seeing more people walking about. I nodded politely at a few who saw me, earning nods in return.
The town was quiet, I wonder how this would have been better than staying in my hometown. Maybe the memories.

Out of the quiet I heard the metallic grinding of an outdoor trash can against the sidewalk and mischevious snickering to my right.
I turned my head to the sound and froze mid-step.

Tiny, white-bearded men reaching maybe two feet, including their hats, scrambled around through the alley, rummaging through the trash cans like raccoons. Chattering and snapping at each other over scraps of food and whatever else they've found.

I remained frozen where I stood, terrified and confused. Eventually one of them noticed me, then, as if the small group were linked in mind, the others stared back at me.
This can't be real. They can't be real.

"Can we help you?" A brown-bearded one demanded as he stepped out from behind one of the metal cans.

His question broke my shock, I shook my head then broke into a sprint down the block and across the street.
I was never very athletic so the moment I reached the next building my breathing was already coming in shallow pants.

"Wha-what the hell was that?" I asked myself, racking my brain for any logical or reasonable answer.
Vir-virtically challenged, yea. Just a few homeless men trying to find something to eat.

Standing straight and taking a calming breath, I shook the silly incident from my mind then proceeded on my way to the diner. It was just around the corner to my relief.

I turned my attention to the sounding of chatter down the road and noted a pair of young women handing papers to a small group of older adults.
"I wonder what events they are advertising." I pondered to myself quietly as I continued my way to the diner's steps then indoors.