For the last two months I have been living in a town, and I have no clue where it is.
I can remember my childhood the best, those years from elementary school all the way through high school, but things start to get fuzzy around my freshman and sophomore years of college. I believe I was some sort of science major, but I don't remember any particular classes, honestly, I don't remember much at all, all I have are flashes of dorm rooms, lecture halls, what I think might have been a general plaza in the center of the university, honestly I don't even remember where I went to school. I might have been from Kentucky, or Tennessee, the more I try to write, the less I seem to remember.
My memories clear up again once I'm on the road, I'm young but for some reason I am out of college, I have finer, sharper memories of couch hopping between apartments and playing guitar in run down dive bars, eventually I end up on the street, eventually I end up on the train.
Its dark out when I wake up on the train, my hair and jacket are drenched with what must be rain and that presumption is proven true when the driving sound a summer storm falling on the small porthole windows of the train reaches my ears, my guitar case sits in front of me, and my backpack rests gently in my lap. I am the only person on the train not wearing a suit.
I sit there for some time; the time is stale. The train makes no stops and none of the figures around me make any conversation, they are all men, dressed as if they are heading to a business meeting, I would have no right to attend. I try to remember getting on the train, or why I am on a train, or where I am going, or where I am coming from, and I cannot. I catch glimpses of a subway somewhere in the past.
somewhere amidst the sitting, I sleep, and I dream. I dream that I am on a subway like the one I remember, but I am surrounded by loud noises and strange figures. The figures are robed in full body cloaks that cover their entire shape, turning them into flowing silhouettes that only hint at any human form beneath the cloth, their robes vary in color wildly from reds to greens, blues and yellows. One of the figures turns to look at me, it wears a flat wooden mast with no discernable eye holes, instead three dark blue painted circles stare at me from under the yellow cloak. In that moment my ears attune to the noise around me and I realize that its music, drums and flutes echo throughout the moving train as I try to get a grip on what exactly is happening, I realize several of the cloaked figures are dancing in the middle of the aisle.
I wake up in a field, an old man standing over me. He is average height and balding with the remnants of his hair clinging to the sides of his head; he wears the uniform of a catholic priest and asks me if I am ok. I ask him where I am and he doesn't respond, only introducing himself as Father Mason, he doesn't ask for my name. Mason helps me up and tells me to follow him, as we walk, I notice that he seems tired. Thankfully he is ok with the fact that I can't remember my name.
We walk for a while, out of the field and through a small, wooded area until we finally reach a paved country road, Father Mason tells me that if I were to walk a mile or so in the direction opposite of the way we are heading, that I would stumble upon the house where he grew up.
Eventually the shapes of buildings appear on the horizon as Father Mason welcomes me to town, he says this place is called Lonesome Cave because its build on top of cave system where some guy starved to death back in the pioneer days, the fact disturbs me. Eventually we stand in front of a church which rises up on the outskirts of the small town, only an intersection or two, Father Mason states that this is the church of Saint Ambrose, and it's where he lives.
By this point in time, I have taken a moment to look around, and I ask Mason how many people live here, he says that seventy people attend his church and that while some of them live in town many others live on the surrounding farms, he gives me a small tour of the building. Its old, stained-glass windows seem to yawn as the light passes through them and the air is filled with a thin layer of dust that whirls around in the sun like a million dancing fairies, there are several depictions of Christ, as well as several pieces of art with bees as the focus.
Father Mason finishes up the tour by showing me a small shack situated behind the church between the building itself and the cemetery which surrounds it. He states that if I want to stay I can, as the house has sat empty for years and there is no homeless shelter in Lonesome Cave, he makes a joke about me not having much luggage and it's then that I realize the old man has been carrying my guitar case and backpack this entire time. I thought for a while and decided to take him up on the deal, I didn't have anywhere else to go.
I've lived in Lonesome Cave now for two months working as a sort of catch all assistant for Father Mason's community service wishes, and honestly, it's been a pretty good time, I've met some amazing people and strangely, my memory even seems to be improving. I will say though, this town is strange. I haven't met a single person here who has ever left, and nobody seems to have any knowledge about anything that has happened in the outside world since the 70s. Furthermore, some people and occurrences are just outright odd, I'll give y'all some examples.
- Every Friday night there is a moment of silence held at the local bar (the nine eyed angel) for a dog named Jimmy who supposedly "saved the town"
- There is a totally unreasonable number of bees surrounding Father Mason's church, but they never seem to sting or bother anyone.
- I have seen deer with more than two antlers on multiple occasions.
- I have not seen a single car.
- Theres a family called the Hatsons, they always wear matching trench coats and gas masks, I have never seen their faces.
- The radio only works on Wednesdays and there is only one channel, run by a guy named Dave who no one has ever seen, apparently, he really likes Townes Van Zandt.
- There is a mandatory curfew on all nights except Friday and Sunday, no one can stay out after 11, no one will tell me why.
- There are a strange number of children I never see with their parents, and they all seem to be obsessed with these giant hay statues that stand in the middle of the corn fields surrounding the town.
anyway folks, I'm gonna keep y'all updated on how things go for me, and I have tons more stories to tell. feel free to leave comments and I'll try to respond to people.
y'all's friend
-A