I fixed from the previous post and finished it, sorta. Please forgive my weak grammar and thank you so much for reading ;w;
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Every day is yesterday. Every day is tomorrow. Every day is today. And today, is just another plain ordinary day like no other.
My name is Lora Antell, and I found myself isolated in this strange town, strange, yes, I believe that is the most reasonable word to describe it. Interesting, at first, but not any more. Have I been searching for a route to get myself out of here? I did, every single day. It is a futile effort. Every where I go, I will be taken back to where I started. Every different path I take, none of them leads to exit. At first I feel uneasy, but now, it is only uncertainty that I can feel in my mind.
I have been here for almost five months or so I believe. I keep a journal log to record everything that happened while I am here, in this town. When I first got here, I could not seem to find any sign that indicates the name of this town. I thought, how weird to have a nameless town running in this lonely, and deserted field. Thus, I call this place, Field of Mediocrity, the never changing, colorless town.
What is today's yesterday's tomorrow? I often ask myself when I see the sun rising up from the empty horizon. The answer is simply today. Every morning, I wake up to the same amber toned scenery that is painted under the bleak sky. It is kind of depressing, I suppose.
According to my note, it mentions a particular crack on the pavement outside my house, although I am not very sure what made the cracks. It always looked fresh and newly made, I wonder who made that. Not me, of course. And then the great big windmill, that is notable approximately, ten feet away from where I am staying. I suppose you can tell by the idle movement of the blades, considering how frail the wind swings. There is also this, exquisite water fountain that is located right in the middle of the town. It is built to resemble the magnificent figure of a mermaid, bearing an ethereal expression on the face, while holding a beautifully engraved water vessel. I am very intrigued by its presence, I dubbed it, a mystery! Why a mystery? It is puzzling me that it runs every day without fail, when I have not done anything at all to maintain nor to clean it. Never have I seen the fountain caught in dirt or mosses, it stands most gracefully as ever.
As I sigh to the dull taste of the atmosphere, the sound of the rustling winds of nowhere, I listen to the somber tune of rain.
"Pitter-patter", the rain whines.
The raining here is quite a surprise. However tasteless, it happens in a random pattern. Never set on a fixed moment, it tears when it feels like it. I am sure that it is the only thing that breaks the similar scene this town plays. Fascinating, is it not? It also fills up the well I get my water from. I assure you it is safe to consume. I am very much healthy and alive now.
With all that I have observed, comes the conclusion that I think is nonsensical. It is a silly deduction, however, an assumption that I can not be the only one here. Or that, the urban myth of people of the invisible resides here, in this ghost town. But the thought of being together with people you can not see is rather spooky. I laugh at my naivety. I wonder now, if the time has already frozen when I first step into this still, faraway land.
It seems like I caught myself wandering off directionless in my mind again. I figure I should go get something to ease my grumbling stomach. How indecent of me. Mother would have been angry if she found out what I am doing right now. I missed her. I missed my family, my friends, I missed the place where I belong to. Do they miss me as well?
I head to the bakery not too far from my house, and I will tell you about this queer experience of mine, about how the shops around here work. Upon entering the bakery, I see this wooden rocking chair that sways in a weak motion. I will never know if an invisible people is rocking the chair or is it just the wind, I do not wish to dig further on this, though. The bakery is such a pleasant place. The smell of freshly made breads, I reach for the wheat bread at the right corner of the shop and head out. Before you think of me as a thief, I would like to remind you that, the only person in this town is none other than me, myself. I did looked all over the town before, in attempt to find any living existence, yet, it is hopeless. Wondrously, all these food I took will appear again right after I exited the shops. Weird, very weird. And so, I never have to worry about the food supply. Fundamentally, every thing in this town does not ever change. The rain being an exception.
The trees and plants here never grow taller either. Always fruitless, I have never seen any falling leaves, never wilt away. Sometimes, I just think, if it is possible for someone else to be experiencing the same phenomena like I do. What if this and what if that, I often question myself. I really should stop trying to find the answer to this madness, or I will go mad myself.
It has been five months, for me, being on my own here. Or has it only been a day? It could not be that, because I am certain. I watched, as the sun rises and set, from east to west for a hundred and fifty days. The land should have been covered with snow during winter, but I do not think it is going to happen any time soon. The sun is setting, I guess I will call it a day, and retire.
As I head back to the house, I stop by the boundless wheat field. It is always filled with nothing but emptiness. I should have known that, fierce wind is going to stroll at this very moment, before I get the dust in my eyes- Ah! Should have cowered my face. As I rub my eyes, I lift my head up to find my eyes lingering around and- What is that, thing?
My eyes are fixated on something very peculiar. Eyes squinted, I take a closer look at the enigma that is happening. A black figure, or so I can tell from the distance between myself and the thing, right in the middle of the field. I can not believe what I am seeing! Is that a scarecrow? I do not remember seeing it there. Who made it? Not me, definitely. Or is that a person? I run without hesitation towards that dark shadow.
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