Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Small Town America

So I felt like stretching some of the creative writing muscles I had not used since high school. My goal is to give you a mental image that will take you back to the place you have been through that seemed like a whole other world. I hope you like it. Mrs Stephens, this one is for you.

The day was hot and the air was thick. Time dragged on despondently. Leaves rustled in a listless breeze, an almost pathetic attempt at displaying life.
The city was a small and quiet one. Old houses alongside older trees and roads. The local children ran and played in the small dilapidated park. Old men gathered on the steps of the archaic courthouse to hear the same stories they had been telling for years. Every once in a while, a mother would call out and the group of children would expel one from its membership.
To the stranger and interloper, this town was like many others. Worn out and woe-be-gone. Run down and decaying into oblivion. But to the denizens, it was security and peace and happiness. Families grew old and became young at the same time. The generations passed on like a marching band moving off the scene.
My time there was short, but it left an impression. I see the history of what once was with the sadness of the inevitable irrelevance. Newer, faster, and better would soon be replacing the hand me down, the eventual for the patient, and the simply good enough.
What would become of this place? Would time allow it to pass gracefully on to the next generation? Would it wither and die juxtaposed against the furious pace of progress? Would it thrive as a hallmark of a bygone era? Would it adapt and become wholly new again? To these questions and many others, only time will tell…

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