No Warranty

I ran.

I don't like to run, but I ran, sprinting, and boy did I feel young. A nostalgic feeling entered the muscles that felt stiff from lack of use from what felt like years. Awful as it was, I'm glad I moved that suddenly, I'm glad I'm still sore, because even though I failed, at least I know I will not regret not trying.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am an old lady. A resident of Warrentoughfeald, a small, cursed town. Would say it was typical, and it was for someone who may be new. It would seem so at least. The more time you spend in it, however, the more you feel…. Unsettled. 

I wish someone had put up a sign to warn others. I wish someone ran to me, maybe I would pause, at least hesitate. Maybe I would have not walked into an open cage. Maybe, I would have somehow left instead of having been grabbed and dragged into this mess of a town. Everyone who enters, you see, they must stay.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

All the 20 steps I took in the short lived sprint caught up to me in a sudden rush of waviness up into my bones, through my veins, and saturated  in my muscle. It yelled at me, in a rather loud voice, that this, is the reason I have a walking stick. I collapsed.

I woke up in the back of a stranger's car. This is the beauty of being as old as I am. Not the ability to be in the back of a car, as I am sure young people can do just fine, rather, it is my reaction to it. I would only imagine what scenarios would have pestered my mind if I were younger. I would think of ‘kidnapped’,  that's for sure. But as an old lady? Nah. People helped me, pitied me. I would imagine if I looked wealthy, I would have to worry about people befriending me for ulterior reasons, but I dress simply, and I think I only have enough to last me till the end of my days, and that's being generous, despite me looking like I should have been dead yesterday. Besides, no one in this town has anything to gain from anyone.

I look up at this strange man who just came into view. Strange simply because I can already kind of tell he's not one of the few people who did live here. A rumble in the pit of my stomach squeezed through my rough throat, translating into what people acknowledge as an old woman's voice. “Come closer, Sonny, I can’t tell who you are from here. Forgive me, my eyes are not any good.”

And closer he came. I slapped him across the face. He didn't flinch, just stared at me. I am guessing you can describe it as shock. Maybe he cannot articulate his speech properly. 

“ Well? Are you going to apologize, Sonny?” I tsk my head in disappointment. “ Ah, I tried.” I get up, barely managing, and he helps me out of the car and gives me  my walking stick. I am guessing someone saw me run off without it and gave it to him. I will need to have a talk with whoever it was, it's a small town, and you shouldn’t exactly trust a random stranger with a frail elder like myself. 

“ Why were you rushing towards me? I was driving fast, and well, you came right in front of me.” He walked with me to the sidewalk of  the antique shop. He pulls a chair and I sit on it, he sits on the floor near me. The stranger  leans his head against the rough bricks, he is drinking coffee.

Noticing I was staring at his cup, he rushes to the car and hands one to me. “ I got it while you were out.” I nod my head, accepting it. He sits back down slouching, after a moment, he turns his head to me. “ Why won't they speak to me? The people.” If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was hurt by it. 

I let out a sigh or a laugh, or a mixture of both. Tired, I sound tired. “ They did that to me too, when I just came here. You’ll get used to it, then they will get used to you.” He nods at me, just like that we are back to silence. We stare off at the dusty view in front of us. We are at the end of the town, facing a desert and rolling bushes passing by. It is the same view I've been staring at for the past couple of years through the cafe right next to me. I keep my head forward, allowing my eyes to relax at the end of the vastness. Clearing my throat, I break the silence, “ What brings to this...” I pause, giving  him a brief look of disappointment, “ glorias town we call  Warrentoughfeald.”

“Why do you ask?” He looks as though he is holding back a grin. I stare at him. He looks like a lost child, and then I feel a sudden warmth towards him. I feel like a mother, and maybe that is what I need right now, and what he needs as well. He has not gotten a haircut in ages, exempting his face, and he wore jeans and t-shirt, like most people. Nothing stood out about him but the eyes of a saddened heart. I side-smile at him, then look back to the vast view, “ You don’t get to ask the questions… but because I'm so kind, I’ll answer this.” 

He is gapping at me, and then turns around to mutter something under his breath. “Oh you know my ears are not that great either, speak up will you, Sonny.” 

“ Well if you insist. I want to inform you that slapping people who help you with no clear reason is not very kind, but continue, what brought you here?” 

“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm.” We both roll eyes, facing the front. I can see enough from my peripheral vision to understand that we are both comfortable enough to speak now.

I was about to start, when someone passing in front of me made a disapproving face at my association with the stranger. I'm pretty sure now that it's been at least half an hour since the strange man entered, every breathing body is aware of their presence. My mind switches back. 

“ I was about your age now, so about 40 years ago or so. I was tired, you can say. Exhausted, flabber-gust-worn-out. Yes, worn out. I did not know about the curse of this place, of course, if I had, I would have chosen another little town to  help and recharge myself, and get back on my feet. I would imagine it would have been no short process, but eventually, nothing lasts forever, and every storm cloud brings with it raina and prosperity right? Well, not here.” He said nothing of the curse. Probably mistaking my choice of words for exaggerated expressions, rather than  realistic descriptions that they were.

He looks up at the sky, covering his eyes at the blinding sun. “ I would imagine you don't get much rain here. Yes.” 

I look down at him. Surely he is not that thick in the head. I started with a fed up tone, “ No, not what I meant, you nut head. I mean yes we dont get much rain here, but we don't get good news or anything, what I meant was-”

His laughing interrupts me, I look at him and I see him smiling down at his feet, shuffling.

“ Are you ok?” I ask. I have not asked this to anyone in what felt like forever. I feel like the words came out like a second language I just started to learn.

“ No one asked me that in… well I don't remember how long ago. It feels odd hearing them.” I looked at him again, there was a mark of dry tears on the side of his face that's usually faced away from me. I did not notice him cry, he’s more quiet than I am when I do, clearly.

I get up, and signal him to follow. I was the last person who entered this town, other than this guy. He is the last newcomer.

I reached my home and headed to the kitchen. I tell him he can use the couch until people familiarize themselves with him. “ We have one inn. Noone uses it, except for once in a while a local person will decide to go there. I really don't get why we have it to begin with. I stayed sleeping in my car for 7 months before they let me rent out this place. Trust me, by the way, the lack of shade and a rusty car don't exactly check off your shelter needs.”  I bring the tea over, and slowly sit on the other side of the couch, handing him a mug.

I continued to speak, “ So… you haven’t told me why you came here, or how are you.'' I turned to him. He is looking at feet , shuffling, again. 

“ I..” he clears his throat. This is clearly hard for him. “ I lost my passion for my job. I really liked it. It gave me a sense of fulfillment. My co-workers were my friends, and my job was- well it was my job, my home, my social playground. It was my life.” He looks at me for a movement, then back at his feet. “ I was ending my shift late one day, and found one of my coworkers' computer left open. I only wanted to close it really, I'm not nosy or anything. I-”  at this point, he was using frantic hand gestures, he paused to look at me. Begging with his eyes that I believe him. 

I shrug and muster what I could of a smile. ''I have no reason to believe you would lie to me. Continue. I have nothing better to do, and neither do you.”

Somewhat reassured, he stares at the wall in front of us, where there would usually hang framed pictures, certificates or even a shelf. Instead, there was nothing to distract the blankness but scratches on old paint that poorly attempted to cover peeling wallpaper at one point . “ Well, umm...” he gulps, “lets just say I saw my name while trying to log off on some chat that was open - not that I was reading, but you know how some things catch your eye?”

I playfully rolled my eyes, he needs to let go sooner than later. What a waste, I think to myself. Another good soul put to suffer by others pathetic behaviours.

“ I was disappointed. It was the whole office. Calling me names for smiling. Mad at me for cheering them up. I-? They? They invited me to go out, tell me happy birthday. I was not their boss or anyone they should feel the need to hide from. Why bother pretending? Why put up with it? I would say that they were protecting me, trying not to hurt me.” He smiles to himself, and with a sniff, he holds eye contact with me, pools in his eyes. 

I signal for him to come, and we embrace for a while, his tears soak my shirt, and without me noticing, mine do the same to his.

“Come.” I stood up after he closed his hug, feeling already better, but also missing the warmth at the same time. “ I have something to show you.” He smiles at me, absent minded. Almost a full smile, but there is some sort of pain only time can wipe off the eyes of the beholder, and he needs his share of the remedy of time.

I walk out of my humble abode and notice him looking down at his feet and slowly following me. There is more to his story. Interesting how something that would never hurt me, hurt him enough to be here, but then again, it is probably the same vise versa.“ Oh come on, Sonny, chin up. Remember, I am the old lady here. Now stop walking like you have out-aged me already.” Some people pass by us, avoiding us- him, like a plague.

After him tolling behind me through the tiny spaced out town for a while, he speaks again “I noticed it is naive, You know. I know they were not protecting me, why would they? If they cared, they would know this is worse than to be treated coldly.”

“We are almost there.'' I ignored what he just told me and pointed to the odd rock in the center of the Warentoughfeald. It is the size of a small goat, but scarier than a goat. Noone has been able to explain it. Who put it there and why it's so special.

We finally reach the rock and I see the face of pure horror. He sees his name engraved into the rock and blood, slowly and endlessly flowing out of what looks like the handwriting of an angry child. “Who did this- I- what is-” he looks at me for answers.

“ Slow down buddy, I don't have all the answers, here, let's sit.” We sit just far enough from the sticky blood pool that's always been there. We keep our eyes in the blood looking liquid.

“ Since I came, and perhaps forever ago, according to some people- the rock has been there. Just existing. There are 96 names carved. As you can see, some are cursive, some enlarged writing, some are small, all slightly different. Then there are some that are very different.” I paused, remembering the moment I first saw this. The questions I asked. The waste of energy. The added pressure it gave me that I did not need. 

Pushing all the thoughts away with a sign, I continued to tell him what no one wanted to tell me for a while. “ Here is what's common for all these names. Number one, no one has family or friends outside of this town when they come here. If you came here, you had no one left behind. Number two, we all came here with our car's fuel almost empty, and our cars all broke down in a few days after our arrival. The first people came on horses apparently, dead they were the second they reached here. Number three, we all reached this spot by traveling with no destination in mind. You can't really come here if you intended to, it's a paper town.”

He gulps, out of words, he only manages to nodd, eyes glued to his name that seemed demonically alive. 

“ Yeah, very nice isn't it. Well luckily for you, Sonny, there is more to this unbreakable nasty rock. So the people of the crossed off names  have vanished. Not necessarily escaped. Nothing but dessert for miles. Noone knows this place exists, and there are no working cars, and means- of you know…” I muster what I could of a friendly smile, not sure why. Not like it will make him feel any better. “ Escape. No escape.”

“ Why is my name doing that?” He rips his stare away from his name, to me, then to his restless feet. 

“ Noone knows. You see, what I can tell you is that you don't have a number next to your name. It means you will age like a normal human. Most people have the age they came here,a dn their body just isn't affected by time. Their minds are, ofcourse. Barely anyone dies here. I am the youngest.” I let out a chuckle. Sonny has to take in so much so fast. Maybe it is better he finds out by himself. In my defense, I think thinking about this is better than dreading the past, he doesn't need to search for answers. Besides, the earlier he knows, the earlier he’ll get over it.

“ Um, what now?”He looked at me expectedly. It stung a bit.

“ Now,” I start to speak, looking at the pool of blood. His gaze makes me sad, what a shame to dim the last bit of light. “ Now we wait.”

“ Why wait? And for what? My name is last, right? So wouldn’t that mean… it’s done? This curse like- situation?”

“ And where, Sonny, would you like us to find the answers?”

“Anywhere really...” he looks around at the plain landscape. It's not a big place, I'd like to think that if there was anything, I would have found it by now. Just as silence crept near us, a teenage girl grabs a bucket of sticky blood from the floor and walks away without sparing us a glance.

Without waiting for him to question, I start, “ it's our water source, See?”  I scoop some with my hand. He watches it become clear. “ We do not have running water. Not really. We gather water from here and put it in a water pump for sinks. Works good enough. Oh yeah, that lady is older than me, by 78 years I believe.”

“Why my name? Where do the people who vanish go? And why us?”

I don't answer, because I do not know. I pat his shoulder and lend a hand, he helps me up. With that, we have our walk home from the first day of his arrival.

“ The first guy had his name like that too, until he disappeared.”

I know Sonny has many questions, but it is enough for today. Sometimes, the less we know the better off we are. Ignorance can be bliss, and the problem is you never know if it is or not until you find out the information you're missing. By then, the damage is done. I could have told him more, but I told myself I am playing hero. For now.