Desolation

It was paradise. Gentle, summer rains fell lightly on lush green fields. It was a land of plenty, we wanted for nothing. Our neighbors were like family, sharing good fortune and abundance.

At first there were only minor disagreements, superficial injuries and illnesses. Even then, the community gathered in peaceful cooperation to achieve our mutual goals.

We weren’t under the mistaken delusion that this was a utopia where nothing bad happened, where no evil lurked. Still, it was the closest thing we could hope to perfect.

That was until the clouds passed over the town. Thick and black, they hung low over the foothills, shrouding the peaks in a curious fog. Blocking out the blue sky, a yellow pallor blanketed everything.

Soon it covered the whole valley, a sick sallowness that seemed to seep into our pores, permeating every aspect of our lives. It was an apathy so oppressive all love and joy was overshadowed by a deep, harrowing sadness.

The Wittmyers were the first family to leave. They packed only what they needed, then left their home, unlocked and seemingly occupied to any who would peer into their windows.

Next it was Principal Joe Harris with his wife and kids, then Sheriff Fisher.

When Pastor Troyer disappeared in the middle of the night, all faith was lost. In two days the entire town fled. It was as if the clouds banished every living thing.

I don’t know why I came back. I guess in the back of my mind, I hoped the exodus wasn’t final. That the town didn’t die, that other people had returned.

A chain-linked fence blocked my entry into the abandoned town. Pad locks on the gates, rusted from long exposure to the weather, kept me from exploring the deserted streets. From where I stood, the sky was still an eerie, unnatural color.

This desolate summer will end when the last building crumbles to the ground.