Day Seven
Enter: Bramble, Alabama
Population 3, 597
We roll through town in late September of 1954 and the streets are filled with ghosts. Buildings fade in and then out behind us and people drift from storefront to storefront or not at all, tethered to their homes and porches. They give us looks (of course they would, father says) but they’re more scared of us than we are of them I think I hope. They peep out from their eyeholes and we keep rolling through, the car going bumpitybump on the gravel beneath and the foggy rain around us leaving a coating of wet on the car and us. We roll up our windows and we keep rolling. As we leave town, I look back at it drifting out of sight and decide, Bramble is like a ship on its side in the Sargasso.
Enter: Bramble, Alabama
Population 3, 597
We roll through town in late September of 1954 and the streets are filled with ghosts. Buildings fade in and then out behind us and people drift from storefront to storefront or not at all, tethered to their homes and porches. They give us looks (of course they would, father says) but they’re more scared of us than we are of them I think I hope. They peep out from their eyeholes and we keep rolling through, the car going bumpitybump on the gravel beneath and the foggy rain around us leaving a coating of wet on the car and us. We roll up our windows and we keep rolling. As we leave town, I look back at it drifting out of sight and decide, Bramble is like a ship on its side in the Sargasso.
posted by Odorless Boatman at 9:57 PM
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