A Short Walk In A Pretty Town Novels & Stories

we both said, almost at the same time, and then we laughed, high and a little breathless, like we were twenty and had never been anywhere nice in our lives. Callum chuckled. “Whatever you say, madames.” He pulled away from the pad and drove us into town. The streets were narrower than I expected. Flower boxes hung from windows. Laundry dried on lines above the alleys. A church bell rang somewhere, slow and old. People walked like nobody here was late for anything. Callum pointed things out as he drove, but he did it quietly, without turning it into a tour. “That fountain’s been there longer than most of the hotels,” he said. “Couples throw coins in it. I used to think that was stupid.”

“I just like messing with him sometimes.” “You know he doesn’t like me?” I asked. “Oh yes, he’s made that point quite clear,” Kieran sighed. “But luckily, I have the deciding vote - the only vote, actually - and I’ve decided you’re perfect.” “Thanks.” I could feel my cheeks heating up again as we walked the short way down the dirt road to the town. Once we got to town, the roads were paved, most with wide sidewalks. It was very modern, like any American suburb, and people bustled all over, getting their businesses open for the morning.

The morning air was crisp as I stepped out of the motel, taking in the peaceful charm of Willowridge. The town was already awake, the scent of fresh bread wafting from the bakery, mixing with the rich aroma of coffee drifting from the diner. The streets weren’t crowded, but people moved about, greeting each other with warm smiles and easy conversation. It was a stark contrast to the life I had left behind.

Music that sounds like grief and hope tangled together. "What is that?" I ask when he finishes. "Something I'm writing. I don't know what to call it yet." "It's beautiful." "It's us. What we sound like in my head." That evening, we force ourselves to walk down to the village. It's only a fifteen-minute trek down the mountain, but my heart pounds the entire way. Too many people. Too much exposure. What if someone recognizes us? But the village is quiet. Fifty buildings clustered around a small square. A church with a bell tower. A general store. A café. People nod as we pass but don't stare. Don't gawk. Don't pull out phones.

“Tomorrow is important. I wanted the place to be… fitting.” My heart stumbled. “You didn’t have to do all this.” “Yes,” he said, stepping closer. “I did.” There was no teasing this time, no smug smile, just honesty, plain and devastating. We left our bags and walked down into the town, narrow stone paths, tiny shops run by old men, cafés that smelled like honey and baked dough. Monica would’ve been shoving me into every boutique. Cherry would’ve been documenting the entire thing on her phone. Crest, however, had a talent for steering me away from crowds, taking back routes, ducking into quiet alleys draped in vines.

No disguises. No route planning. Juicy shoes, jackets and the open street. We don't hold hands at first. We pass side by side, so close that we even bump shoulders. It takes a few minutes before he can reach me unconsciously. As our fingers lace, so it comes not hard. It's as if we have earned this. The town is ordinary. House rows, a little park, a corner shop with tattered signs. But all things seem finer now. Colors brighter. Sounds clearer.

Like the cities of that small country, located high up in the United States in a small space near Atlanta. The town was so tiny that you could traverse it from end to end in less than a day. Nevertheless, and with a grimace on my part, we walked to the outskirts of Ellijay, each of us with a backpack full of things hanging from our backs. We wandered through the desolate streets, barely a few elderly ladies walking their dogs managed to give us a friendly greeting. We climbed up a dirt path that opened up between the trees and the underbrush of the dreaded mountain.

" I can drive you, honey, if you want. " Dad told me as I set off for school. " No, dad, It's okay. I want to have a walk. It's not that far. " I started to walk towards my direction. As I was walking along on the street, I was looking here and there with curiosity. Sunnydale was a very small town with a few inhabitants. In our block, there were only two houses, our's and Elizabeth's. I hardly saw another in this block. The pinewood forest just spread throughout the whole area.

“Well, that makes more sense.” Before anyone could continue that awkward trail of conversation, Mika piped up with a bright voice, “Why are you so pretty?” “Mika,” Ellora scolded gently, “eat, don’t talk with your mouth full.” “But she’s really pretty,” Mika muttered, grinning with her little cheeks puffed out. I smiled at her. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Matthew cleared his throat, shifting the mood again. “So, Evelyn. This little town you found yourself in, it’s called Charming.”

My lips were just there hanging open like a starved fish. "Damon..." "Fuck it!" He punched an innocent pillar by the walk way in annoyance. I did not even have to finish my sentence, he already knew what i was not going to say. Unlike all the busy cities you probably know that have like a million people swarming around on the streets all day, this is a small town so they are not many people walking around tonight or any other day. But the few by passers walking around the area threw us both weird looks before going their way.