Franks POV
I never thought that a small town in the middle of no where could be more hauntingly charming and dangerous then the city but was I so sorely wrong.
My name is frank iero. I am 17 years old, I love rock and playing gutair, and I am the biggest faggot you'll ever meet.
My mom doesn't like that I'm an emotionally unstable homosexual so she decided that we should move to Bellvile New Jersey. Oh joy.
Bellvile was a small town that had a nice arrangement of shops in the center of town, placed in a circle around a fountain. The shops were all quaint but also blizzard ranging from a café with some records in the window to a shop labeled "magic" with smoke furiously pouring out of its chimney and an assortment skulls in the display.
We passed by a high school that looked pretty small but still stunk of angst, hatred, sex, and weed. I guess somethings are the same everywhere you go.
The day we arrived and the day I first saw my new home it was lightly raining and there was a thin layer of fog. As I would soon come to know, that's the weather everyday in Bellvile.
And looming above it all was an obnoxiously big church, perched up on a hill. It was painted a lovely shade of grade a hot topic black and closely resembled a castle with its gothic arches and gargoyles.
Best of all there was a town cemetery that seemed to go on for miles and lead off into the dark and ominous woods.
I loved it. I was such a sucker for horror movies and the aesthetic that Bellvile captured perfectly.
~~~
We drove down a side street and slowly came to a halt outside a tiny cape (A type of house).
Through the dim light coming from the street lamp I could make up the outline of what looked liked a large shack. As we got closer the smell of cigarettes and dust filled my nostrils. "Perfect" I thought.
There was a dingy old couch with suspicious stains and burns all over it and I wasted no time throwing myself onto it and drifting off into unconsciousness.
~~~
