Work in Progress

This is just more of a basic sketch of an idea than an actual story. It's also very rough. as with most of my stuff, I haven't really proofed it yet. I think I will end up exploring this some more, and spend some actual time on it. It's sufficiently vague at the end to not tip you off where I want to go with it. oh well. You'll have to just deal with it :)


The Final Run.

“It’s fucking raining again.” Said Robby to no one in particular. It was just him, the radio, and his thoughts on this trip. He was driving back down from a drop up north. A rainy October weekend, he hated these fall trips. He felt that he was beyond them. He should be able to spend his weekends at home. As he was rounding a corner, his tire blew. His car started to fishtail. He over compensated, and spun out, planting his car, and himself firmly in the small ditch on the west side of the road. “Goddamnit!!” he screamed. He just wanted to get home. He got out of the car to survey the damage. We walked around the car a few times, checking every corner, and his 3 un-burst tires. The rain was coming down in a steady mist. Not heavy by any means, but definitely constant. He popped his trunk to get out the spare and the jack. After fighting with the lug nuts for a few minutes, he was able to get the tire changed. He hopped back in, and started south. After a few miles, his spare tire started making noises, and then to shake. Within a mile, the entire car was shaking uncontrollably. He could see a small town just ahead. A tiny wooden sign said “Croftville”. He spotted an ancient looking gas station. “This place was probably around before WWII” he thought to himself. He pulled in. Written what looked like at least 3 decades prior on the door were the hours.
Mon-Fri 10-3pm
Sat. noon-3pm.
Sunday Closed

Across the street was a tiny gift shop. It looked equally old, and fairly disused. He walked across the 2 way highway to the shop. Inside was an ancient looking woman, probably someone’s great, great grandmother. “Hello” she barely managed to get out. “We don’t get too many visitors here in our town” she slowly creaked. “What can I do you for?”
Robby started in on his situation. As he finished, he couldn’t help but end with “and now I’m stuck in bumfuck nowhere!” She gasped. “We don’t appreciate that sort of language here” said the old woman. Abraham, our mechanic is off fishing for the rest of the weekend, but should be back Monday” the woman stated. “I can’t wait that long” Robby said, “Do you have a phone? I can’t seem to get cell service up here”. Nope, no phone here, one over at the gas station, but like I said, Abraham is gone.”
“Don’t you have one anywhere else in town?” He asked.
“Nope. Most of our residents are seasonal. You can go try and see if anyone is around this weekend, but I would assume most aren’t. Only people that live here are myself, Abraham, my sister Dorothy, and the Olsen’s. None of us ever got telephones. Our families were here before the phone lines came. They ran them along the highway there, but not up to our houses”. Robby sighed. He figured he’d try and hitch a ride down to the next real town.

“I’m never going to make another northern run.” He said to himself. He didn’t know how right he was.