Page 4 of The Hallows Boys

Sandra wiggles in anticipation next to me after a flight attendant announces that we’re making our final descent into Atlanta, and it makes me itchy. She’s excited to see her family, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but I’m miserable and cynical.

The plane starts circling the city, nearing the landing strip, so I lean over the old man that’s still snoring next to me to peek out the window. It’s cloudy, but because of the time change, it’s deep into the afternoon in Atlanta. The sun is starting to set, sitting about midway in the sky as we move lower and lower. I admire the shadowed high-rises of downtown Atlanta in the distance, watching my new home getting nearer.

Not that I’ll be staying in the city – that would be too kind. Blackmore is a nothing town about three hours from humanity. When I saybumfuck, I mean it. I did a google search last night, looking for anything that would help me get to know my new home, but was very disappointed when I realized Blackmore is essentially a patch of grass.

The town is very small, very old, and seemsveryboring.

Founded in the early 1800s, Blackmore is home to about 10,000 people. I’m coming from ahugecity, so claustrophobia is already starting to sink into my bones.

From what I’ve learned from movies and TV shows, nothing is private in towns as small as this one. Everyone knows everyone and their mama too. I’m sure my arrival will be the topic of conversation in a lot of homes over the coming weeks, because I assume there aren’t a lot of transplant residents in towns like Blackmore.

As much as I can imagine different scenarios, I honestly am not sure what to expect. I’ve read about people developing culture shock when they move abroad, and I hope this won’t be like that for me.

I sit back in my seat as the plane is about to touch ground, grabbing onto the thick straps of my seat belt for dear life just before the bump of the landing. Then the brakes are screeching and we’re pulling into the gate, immersing me in this brand-new reality.

ChapterTwo

SAGE

Well, bumfuck wasdefinitelyputting it kindly.

My cab got a half hour outside Atlanta before it was nothing after nothing of absolutelynothing. Trees, grass, and farms, to be precise. It feels like an alternate universe, like I blinked and ended up in an old movie.

After two hours and forty-seven minutes, I’m finally laying my eyes on the town of Blackmore.

An old, faded, flaking sign hangs just at the town limits, right at the edge of an empty road parallel to a field of cows.

WELCOME TO BLACKMORE, Founded 1812. Population: 10,128.

I guess it’s 10,129 now.

I lean against the window, trying to imprint everything I see into my brain, mostly because it’s unbelievable. It’s a completely different world than Los Angeles. The first thing we pass is a cemetery, and my breath catches in my throat as I run my gaze over the decrepit, cracked headstones and decaying trees that surround them. There’re a few larger structures – crypts – and they’re creepy as fuck. It’s like I was picked up and dropped into an episode ofAmerican Horror Story. The cemetery must be over 100 years old, maybe even dating back to the founders, because it’s all covered in moss and broken branches. Leaves cover the ground as we’re deep into autumn, and when the wind blows, they all skip across the grass.

The cab driver makes a stop at a flashing red light, making sure to look both ways, even though we’re the only car on the street, then makes a left turn onto what’s labeled Main Street. An old store sits on the corner that looks like a pharmacy or something, and I spot a couple of people inside before it’s out of sight. The rest of the strip is dingy and in need of some TLC from wear and tear. Brick buildings with barely hanging wood signs, gutters falling down with water trickling out from this morning’s rainstorm onto sidewalks that are stained and cracking into the road.

The street is empty, save for a few stragglers here and there. It’s quiet, almost too quiet, as I observe the dim little street. There’re no families out for an afternoon of shopping and dinner, no teens causing chaos and laughing with one another. It feels abandoned.

Main Street ends as quickly as it started, then I’m watching pastures and fields pass me by once more. We pass by a large, dark building that catches my attention. The brick is dirty and cracked, and all the windows are boarded up with wooden planks. The doors are as well, except they hold big notices reading NO TRESPASSING. Before I can make out what the sign at the front says, we’re turning onto the next street.

The cab stops in front of a large, Victorian-style house that’s a faded white color with some shutters hanging loose on the windows. It looks like it was once a beautiful home, and with a little work, it could be again. It’s cute. Definitely better than some of the other homes on the street.

The front door of the house opens just as I’m getting out of the car, and a little woman appears in the doorway. She has greying hair, and she’s wearing what seems to be a nightgown. I start sweating with nerves, so I hustle around the side of the car to open the trunk and get my bags out. I need another couple of moments to myself before I’m ready to face my grandmother, so I take a few deep breaths as I pull out my first suitcase.

“Sage?” my grandmother calls, her voice thick with a southern twang. I peek at her over the trunk, finding her standing on the porch, smiling kindly. “Oh, Sage, honey.”

I feel a deep sense of longing in my gut, longing for my parents, for familiarity and security. A wave of emotion rushes through me, making my eyes fill with tears as I pull another suitcase from the trunk, wavering in strength.

“I got this, darlin’.” The cab drivers voice makes me jump, but I find his kind eyes telling me to go to my grandmother. I give him a quick nod before I start walking, grabbing one of the suitcases and dragging it behind me to the house.

My gaze seeks out my grandmother’s, and when I find my mother’s hazel eyes staring back at me, tears stream down my cheeks. In the next moment, I’m dropping the handle of my suitcase and running to my grandmother to embrace her.

“Oh, honey,” my grandmother mutters as her arms catch me, wrapping around me as I shake with sobs. “Sage, baby, it’s okay.”

Her calm, frail hands stroke down my back as she shushes me kindly, intuition taking over as I cry into her nightgown. I allow myself to have this, feel this moment, and cry hard against my grandmother’s embrace. My sobs shake my entire body, making me quake, so she has to use more force to hold me upright.

Her hands trail along my hair. “It’s so nice to see you, Sage.”

I take a breath, filling my lungs with oxygen and blowing it out slowly before I lean back to look into her eyes. I wipe at my face. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

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