of hellscapes and other interesting places

You're not from around here, are you?

There is something very wrong with the sky here, but nobody seems to understand me when I tell them about it. They call me a city boy. They say I'll get used to it--big, open skies, not like the claustrophobic city skies like where I'm from.

The population is probably about two thousand at best, and that's including the farms on the outskirts of town. Problem is I can't find my way out and I don't know how I got here. I've tried the roads, and they just turn in on themselves and I find myself back downtown somehow.

Everything here is too bright. The sky is blue, like really blue--a rich and vibrant color that hurts to look at. The sunsets are more beautiful than I thought possible. They look like something out of a kitschy mass-produced painting. And it's not just the sky, I've found. Cars work like something out of a movie. Some of them--the locals say they've got "character"--only start up if you pat them on the hood and whisper "there's a good girl" to them. Some have lights that only work if you pound on the dashboard a few times.

And the houses are all quaint. The farmhouses look like the kind of things you see in children's books. The ones in town are all perfect in their own ways. Everyone is friendly in a weird, aggressive sort of way. And they just feel bad for me as I'm trying to run away, won't accept the artificial perfection--and just keep saying "he'll come around" when I come back.