Scary Stories and CreepyPasta's!

The Sweeping

The town of Wheatley, Nebraska used to be a pretty lively place. Although its population numbered just shy of 500, it thrived off of the tenacious, community-oriented attitude of its residents.

Sweeping, golden plains grew a variety of crops that helped feed neighboring states. Every year, the Wheatley County Fair drew people from miles around to enjoy its rural attractions, fresh produce, and top-quality livestock.

Today, it's very well-stocked; two silos are dedicated to holding water reserves. While a backup power supply is available, Wheatley's town hall now has three generators should the reserve systems fail in the case of an extreme emergency. Sometime during the mid 1980's, the town's mayor at the time ordered a huge, underground basement to be built; the basement has enough room for 1,500 people, a six-month food supply, gasoline, its own two generators, medical kits, communication systems... essentially, it's a fallout shelter on steroids. In addition to the subterranean chamber, Wheatley's police force was doubled, their analog emergency communication systems were overhauled in favor of state of the art, computer-monitored alternatives, and its only church was torn down in an effort simply labeled "The Cloud Project."

Its name comes from a catastrophic and tragic series of events between May 14th, 1968, to June 2nd, 1969.

This time has no official name, but a handful of residents who lived through it refer to the period as "The Sweeping" or "The Great Blackout." On the morning of May 14th, at approximately 8:15 a.m., a series of thick, gray clouds covered the skies of Wheatley. This didn't arouse suspicion among the townsfolk, as May was the rainiest month of the year. In fact, farmers greatly appreciated this season, as the rain was beneficial to their fields. When one week passed, the clouds remained; light, gray overcast skies became dark with ominously asphalt-colored thunderclouds. The local weather station had predicted a series of heavy thunderstorms for that week, but it never rained.

By the time June began, Wheatley's City Council became worried. The clouds had not moved an inch, continuing to linger above the town like a beast around its prey. With each passing day, less and less sunlight permeated the ever-thickening clouds; the days became shorter, causing the temperature to drop to a high of fifty-five degrees Fahrenheit and a low of twenty. As the year went on and the sun shone for shorter stretches, the clouds grew so thick that it became impossible to discern night from day. Citizens were ordered to stay in their homes until more information was gathered about the conditions, and floodlights were placed over the fields and patches in twelve hour cycles to keep their goods preserved. A few days after the pitch black conditions settled in, all of the town's clocks began to go in reverse. It was the townspeoples' belief that time progressed as it normally would, but the numbers kept turning back; both analog and digital clocks regressed, and every device equipped with a time-teller followed suit.

At this point, the timeframe for the weather blackout becomes unclear. Opinions vary on how long after the clock reversal this occurred, but the police did make temporary contact with law enforcement from the neighboring town of Langford:

(Transcript courtesy of the Wheatley Police Department)

LPD: Langford Police Department, Sheriff speaking.

WPD: Hey, Tom. It's Ginsey.

LPD: Hey there, Bill. What can I do for ya?

WPD: Say, you know any folks who have come by this way?

LPD: To Wheatley? Can't say I do. I reckon the rain's been-

WPD: No, it hasn't been anything. There hasn't been any rain all week. It was in our forecast over a month ago and never came.

LPD: You talkin' about those thunderstorms that swept through back in May?

WPD: Yes, those. Instead of rainin' like normal, these big old thunderclouds came along and just... stayed there. Now, you can't tell day from night because it's so dark. If you think that's weird, get this: all of the clocks started reversin' on their own. At the warmest, it's about fifty degrees outside.