Cardinal Points.

The stone was cold against my head, which was still reeling from what felt like the hangover to beat all hangovers. I cautiously stood up and gazed at my surroundings. Through the foggy, misty atmosphere I could see the remnants of a settlement, like an old ghost town from a Wild West movie. It was dark, but not like it would be at night. This was more like a heavy overcast hue that made the whole place seem gray.

I looked back at the pool in front of me, encased within the stone wall that served as my pillow before. It was probably a fountain at one point, but now it just contains nothing but stagnant water and the rusty stains extending below the spouts. The shape of the dormant fountain is what caught my eye though. It had eight points to it, resulting from two overlaid squares that formed 135-degree angles all the way around. In the middle was an octagonal star-shaped column that rose high into the air. I had to back up to see the clock that sat on top of it. There were only four primary faces on the clock tower itself, and each face was dead; along with all life in the town.

It’s not that the townspeople were dead. In fact, I didn’t even see any. After breaking my focus away from the clock tower, I took a quick look around at what buildings I did see. They appeared to be arranged in a circle, more or less, around the central point: the clock. I decided to approach each building with a hesitant determination to find someone – anyone – that could help me. I needed to know where I was or how I could get to…wherever it was I came from. My mind suddenly drew a blank. “Where did I come from?” I thought. I mean, I knew who I was and I knew other basic information, but beyond that…nothing. Understandably, I was nervous, but I figured anyone that I could find would be able to shed some light on all of this.

As I got closer to each of the buildings, I could see that they also took on kind of a Gothic tone. The overhangs, as well as walls and windows were ornamented with points, crosses and patterns that took a little of that Western feel out of the place. Even the writing seemed more Old Style that what I would have expected. Fortunately for me, it was all in English.

I walked from one locked door to another, checking over my shoulder as I made my way from building to building. There was still no one in sight. Finally, I got to a door that was either intentionally or accidentally left ajar. Not only that, but I could see the glow of a light beckoning me from within. The sign on the window said “Public Records Office,” an obscure title of some kind civic government agency. Seeking shelter from the cold, damp darkness, I entered the building.

The immediate interior is murky and dark as well. The place looked like a deserted reception area, and I wouldn’t even see the large amount of metting throughout the room if it weren’t for the light still shining deeper inside the structure. As I made my way farther inward, I passed by stacks of dusty, cobweb-coated books and rows of framed pictures still waiting to be hanged. In the far corner closest to the light’s source, I paused to view a meticulous layout of photos, sketches, blueprints and miscellaneous documentation, mostly relating to this town’s era of verve that came long before the quietness I encountered outside.

Suddenly, I heard a noise from behind a nearby shelf, and I look up to see a diminutive man emerge reluctantly from the shadows. I got the feeling that we were both quite scared of each other’s presence, perhaps him a little more so than me.

“Please, just…stay there. I mean you no harm,” he pleaded.

“Don’t worry,” I replied, “I’m not going to do anything.”

He slowly backed away and took a seat across the table from me. “Who are you,” I asked, “and where is everybody?”

The man cleared his throat and slightly stammered through his answer. “I’m Eo. I’m the, uh, civic engineer I guess. I’m the last remaining resident.”

“You live here?” I continued. “What happened to everyone else?”

“They all went away. I don’t know, but one moment they were here, and then…” His explanation trailed off as he leaned forward and lost himself in the mess of items on the table.

“What is all this stuff?” I inquired.

“These are relics from a bygone era,” Eo replied, “once when this town was prosperous and the people were happy.”

“What happened?”

“Time. It allows all things to be forgotten – even our community. When that happened,” he groaned, “everyone disappeared.”

“Is that what happened to all the people? They just…left?”

“Yes, you might say they ‘left.’ The sorrow people bring on themselves can be a powerful force.”

“So why are you here?” I asked. “And come to think of it, why am I here? Did you bring me here?”

Eo looked back to the faded pictures of the town and its clock tower. “I was the lone holdout,” he told me. “I thought maybe I could improve this place, but I’m not the one responsible for your being here. Did you not arrive of your own free will?”

“I might have,” I answered, “but I don’t remember. I woke up while ago, and I was lying against that old clock tower out there.”

“Yes, the clock stopped short right after it happened. It’s a shame, really.”

“Why it that?”

“Well, it seems like all of this – the darkness and desolation – like it all began during the construction of that infernal clock.”

“Hmm. I would’ve thought that clock was an important part of this place.”

Eo sighed. “It was…or, at least we thought so.”

We both continued to glance downward at all of the pieces to the puzzle that neither one of us has been able to figure out.

“You must be thirsty,” he commented. “I know I am. Would you care for something to drink?”

“Thank you, I’d appreciate that,” I answered.

“You’re welcome. Just let me lock up the office here, and we can walk over to my house. Sound good to you?” Eo asked.

“That sounds great.”

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