I realized when I woke up today that most of y'all probably don't know what Walker Creek is or what the hell I'm even talking about. That I'm shouting stories into a damn void where nobody even knows the setting. So today I'll try to describe Walker Creek itself. I guess I can say it was a small, charming town, middle of nowhere full of country idiots though. Gun toting rednecks and all that. Everyone knew everyone, nice and friendly, 'cept for the introverts who never talked to anyone. Lived around the outskirts usually, but they were the rare exception. Mayors would usually stay for a long time since people voted for who they knew, and things were pretty stable. Events here and there messed with that like in '72 or '88 but it wasn't all too common. There was one street with shops, called Main Street. That's where my clothing shop was. Everything else was houses where people lived, farms where people farmed, or forests where people hunted. Looking back on it makes it seem nice. But it wasn't always. Sometimes I felt like it was a complete shithole. Still got backstabbed, still had to deal with some crazies here and there, buildings were run down, lotta people were poor, and it rained all the damn time. Plus we were probably 10 years behind the rest of the country in technology in any given year. Still, not bad all in all. I was happy. Not much bad happened to me there that had anything to do with the town. I look back and I miss it. But will I go back? Well that remains to be seen but I doubt it. What's left for me there? Just memories in the end. Memories with the rose tinted goggles of an old man.
-Trevor
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AuthorTrevor Magnil Archives
November 2021
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