Chatty Town

Chapter Four : Welcome to Chatty Town

Arden waves goodbye as I walk out through the Library doors with his recommended books in hand and his personal copy of Finding Solace in my brown paper bag full of clothes.

'Keep it out of sight.' Arden's whisper lingers in my mind from when he tucked the book safely away in the bag- after wrapping it with a loose sweater.

It was only part of our entire encounter at his Library that made me widen my eyes and feel that uncanny tension- in the air- I felt earlier. Arden made me forget about the fear, the strange behavior, the lack of old people, the warnings from Leean and all the way down to Olsen telling the mystery voice 'We'll take care of it.'

Whatever that meant.

Arden made Willow Brooke out to be a normal, progressive town "moving towards a better and brighter future for all." We laughed, we talked about his favorite books- those that weren't banned- and he did his best not to absolutely spoil any of the endings, but he still managed to give away one or two major plot twists. He printed out a map of Willow Brooke, telling me where all the best spots in town were.

'Just stay closer to the center of Willow Brooke-' his voice reminds me as my feet wander down a street of colorful houses with trimmed lawns and short browning trees.

'It's nicer there and there's more people willing to help you find what you like.' Arden's words float around my mind like hummingbirds near flowers, steady but moving quickly.    

'What do you like?' I've been asked that question about twenty times today, First by Olsen, then myself, then Leean and about ten times from Arden as he asked me which books I'd be interested in reading first, before he gave up asking and just started piling on books that he loves and putting the rest on hold for me.

Do I even like reading? Do I prefer the book to the movie?

Arden's words dance in my mind, 'Feel free to walk down Conrad Street and pick out any house for yourself. Or there's apartments on Broadway if you'd prefer.'

Would I prefer an apartment to a home with a backyard? I don't know.

The new trees catch my eyes. Extending beyond their property lines with their hanging branches reaching to the street making an orange, leafy, roof over the sidewalk- almost like reaching out for a handshake with the trees across the street doing the same. Unkempt weeds- that grow around thick tree trunks- around one house quickly occupies the neighboring houses until you can't tell where one yard starts and the other ends.

My feet pull me across the street and to the left, finding myself in another neighborhood. Higgin's street, the tilting street sign reads.

Sunburnt swing sets and meter high plastic slides are covered with fallen leaves. There's a weathered rocking chair sitting on a front porch, creaking back and forth as the wind rushes by.

'Just don't go past Higgin's and Sycamore Avenue. It's not safe.' Arden's voice whispers through my mind as I admire the sight before me. Tree branches wave, and the birds sitting in them fly away as red-orange leaves float down to the ground. Sunburnt minivans sit in the driveways- some of them have their doors wide open and there's leaves and puddles inside. Some dark green spots are scattered on the fabric seats and carpeted mats on the floor. Empty dog bowls sit on another porch.

My feet take me across the street again.

Now there's fences bordering the houses. Wooden fences, then chain link fences. A few houses later and wrought iron fences bend under the weight of a fallen tree trunk. Weeds and vines growing along the sides of the houses and fences. Chipped, painted fences slump over in front of a couple scattered houses.