Tales of Terror from Oakhollow

Disclaimer: Any character names or the town of Oakhollow are a figment of my imagination. Any similarities to existing places or people are purely coincidental, please enjoy.

Chapter One: The arrival.

"Welcome to Oakhollow a community so calm you'll never want to leave!" is the first sign I see as I turn off the highway and go down a little dirt road leading to what appears to be an opening in a forest. Hi, my name is Sebastian Reeves. I'm a reporter on my first remote job since climbing the ladder from coffee boy to college grad with a stable career at the local newspaper, 'Outlook Daily.' If I'm quite honest I would have been a bit happier to make the hour-long drive out of civilization if I were reporting on a sudden discovery of a new species, or interviewing some celebrity. Instead my task is to interview the remaining residents of a place called 'Oakhollow' to see how they've managed to survive in the twenty-first century while staying one of the most simple towns in America.

After driving down the dirt road for about three long minutes I come to a clearing, stopping at what appears to be the only stop sign in town my nose wrinkling slightly as the pollen from the numerous wildflowers causes a slight burn to flare up. 'It could be worse..' I think to myself as I step out of the car, it looking rather out of place next to the rusted old pickup trucks and worn sedans. My 2018 Nissan Sentra, which back in the city barely caught the eyes of jaywalkers, has now turned into the main attraction of the few citizens I see.

One old man in particular making his way across the clearing with a polite but skeptical smile on his face, he must be the leader since a few of the children that had been playing with a worn kickball in the street trail after him and peer up at both me and my car behind his outdated but in good condition trousers. The man had been eyeing me up on his walk over and finally breaks the awkward stare down that I had found myself in with the children, "You're not from anywhere around here, welcome to Oak hollow, My name is Mr. Pitchet I run things around here."

He's certainly not the most welcoming of gentlemen but he doesn't treat me like an intruder, this revelation causing my shoulders to relax a bit as I but on my best work smile and reach out my hand. "Sebastian Reeves, I'm a reporter with the newspaper Outlook Daily and you're just the man I wanted to see, might we go somewhere to talk?" As well-mannered as they appear to be I don't like the feeling of being stared at by a group of kids. Mr. Pitchet glances down at the children with a warm smile having read my thoughts without me realizing it, "Run along now children, you had best be getting home for supper."

One of the girls giggles and grabs what I assume is her older brother's hand dragging him away from my car which he had been thoroughly examining eyes gleaming with interest. It makes a softer smile form on my lips as I follow Mr. Pitchet to one of the nicer buildings on the street. Stepping inside is like walking into the Mayberry Jailhouse from the old Tv show Andy Griffith, not that I expected much more. Mr. Pitchet takes a seat at a desk in the center room and folds his wrinkled hands, steel blue eyes observing me once more as I take a seat in front of him pulling out a pad of paper and a pencil.

"I'll get straight to the point, I've been sent to do an article about your town Mr. Pitchet, and was hoping that you could give me some insight on how you and the other citizens of Oakhollow have managed to stay so far away from embracing modern America. Wouldn't it be more beneficial for you to update along with everyone else?" The elderly man let's out a small chuckle shaking his head slightly at my question as if he's been asked it a thousand times before.

"You younger generations are always asking why those of us who prefer the old ways like it this way, without all the fancy computers, and boom boxes, your readers have heard all the answers before it's human nature to want simplicity." He takes a pause to lean back in his chair as I scribble down notes and quote him, after a moment he continues slower now. "What you should really be asking is what makes Oakhollow different from other small communities, not why we stay this way."

His words aren't harsh and I can't detect even an ounce of hostility in them. Instead, I hear an old man, no, a small community with a story to tell. Smiling once more at Mr. Pitchet I flip the pad of paper shut and look him in the eyes, "Then it's a good thing I'm here a few days to experience what your lovely town has to offer." I may or may not have been exagerating on the lovely part, not that the ghost-town charm isn't doing it for me, there's just something off about this place, something that makes me want to stay. Suddenly I realize that even though I had been dreading this trip for a week, ever since I arrived I haven't thought of leaving once.