Trinity’s Field

How the fuck did I get here?

There is something seriously wrong with this town and somehow nobody seems to get it.

Pick up a map. Find the U.S. on a world map. I’ll wait. Now find North Carolina. If you can’t find it on the world, get a U.S. map. OK, now get a map of North Carolina. Get a really detailed map of North Carolina. Look for “Trinity’s Field”. Can you find it?

No, I’m not talking about Trinity, NC. Some of the locals here like to call it that, but I’ve been to Trinity, NC, and this ain’t it. Anything official has this place listed as “Trinity’s Field”. But it’s not on any map.

There are maps here, though. There are maps of the city. But none of them make any sense, either. Get one of those maps, it’ll say which way is North, but that doesn’t agree with where the sun is in the sky. Line it up to where North really is, and you’ll notice everything’s even more cattywampus.

Listen to me, I’m starting to sound like them.

Look, it’s not just the maps. OK? It’s everything.

Where do I even begin?

OK, look, I know this is going to sound crazy, but that’s only because it is crazy. This place is crazy.

There are… OK, look, there are things here. What those things are…

There’s a restaurant in town where the employees eat moss. And mulch. Mulch, as in, what you put around trees. It’s disgusting, but I’ve seen it.

There are houses that are actually legitimately haunted. I’ve only actually been to the one on Stonestreet and Magnolia, but I’ve gotten reports from all over town.

There’s a cult living inside a city block right in the middle of town, in a building with no windows, and I’m about ninety percent sure that they’re all aliens.

I hear there’s a drug dealer who’s been shot to death nine times. Well, murdered nine times. One time he was hit by a semi. One time he was completely dismembered by a jealous ex or something. He appears to be at least ninety years old (from the pictures) but looks younger than twenty-five.

There’s a woman on Ann Street who lives in a house that’s been in her name since the town was founded.

There’s a bar run by vampires.

Don’t tell me I lost you at vampires?

I think there might be werewolves here, too, but no one talks about them.

In a cul-de-sac down in Primrose Crescent, on Amethyst Place, there are five families who I think are probably behind the whole thing. Or at least in on it. I don’t know. I suck at this. I’m not an investigative reporter. Not like you.

When it rains, sometimes there are whispers. Sometimes I believe what they say.

Look, I know we’ve had our differences. I know you didn’t want me to come down here, but don’t you understand, I’m onto something! I know it started with my sister, but Jake, this is so much bigger than that. There is so much more going on. And I could really use you down here. Please.

About Polypsyches

I write, regardless of medium or genre, but mostly I manage a complex combined Science-Fiction/Fantasy Universe--in other words, I'm building Geek Heaven. With some other stuff on the side. View all posts by Polypsyches

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