The day the town died. I remember it well. Just the day before me and the others were all laughing and talking with the travelers. We were all as happy as could be. Then, something happened. It was as though some of our travelers had packed up and left, and no new ones came to take their place. At first, it wasn't noticeable, but as time passed, the number of travelers dwindled rapidly. Soon, there was only the DRH, Strip and Lynda Weathers, and me.
I could sense the others' growing depression, and it only weighed crushingly on me, reminding me of how they needed travelers to keep our home afloat. I found myself up at Wheel Well more and more often, either sitting at the edge, or inside. Sally never minded, in fact, she was glad that the place was getting some constant attention. She would always hand me the keys to lock it up, then sigh and give me a halfhearted smile before leaving. After she had left, I would just sit at the bar for a couple of hours, just gazing off into space, deep in my thoughts, DJ's deejaying table sending classic rock quietly flowing through the building. Every so often, I would get myself a drink, but more often then not, I had two half-full bottles in front of me.
As the months passed, and began nearing a year, the town continued to plummet, as did all of our spirits. I didn't understand why nobody wanted to come visit us any more. Didn't they like us? Were they too busy to come see the town? Were we not important any more? These thoughts buzzed around in my head, along with the beer.
Before long, I found myself shouting angrily, ranting about how we were important, how we were worth something, how much we mattered to each other. "We're better then any of those city cars! They've lost their emotions from lack of use, they like not caring, they wouldn't survive a minute out here without their precious work, or pagers, or cell phones, or fax machines, or laptops!" I shouted at the walls, pacing angrily, like a lioness. I was mad now. I was going to show those frumpy city-slickers what it meant to be down-home country! I would show them that we still had moxy, we still had flair! Heck, we still had more fun then they did! "They can't spend any amount of time out here because they're afraid! They're afraid of dirt, and having fun, and socializing, and being nice! They're afraid… they're afraid of-of… us." My voice cracked and wavered, and I realized that I was quaking. Why? Why were they afraid? There was nothing to be afraid of, it was an adorable little town, and there was plenty of fun things to do, and-and-
My competent thoughts shattered as I was left sobbing quietly, the waves of depression that had built up crushing any last bit of hope I might've had. I managed to make my way out to the cliff, and sat down, gazing out at the town, and the others, who were only noticeable because of their headlights. I was still blinded by the tears pouring out of my eyes, and I hated it. I wanted to see what the city-slickers hated, because it was what I loved. It was everything fun, and it was my pride, and it was… home. It was where I belonged, and where I wanted to be. It was no longer their home, it was mine as well. I had come to love everything about the little town, and if we didn't get some customers soon, I don't know what I'd do.
I don't know how long I stayed up there, sobbing quietly, sitting on the edge of the cliff, my arms drawn into my thin sweatshirt that never left my side. Finally, my sobs died down to weeping, and I tried to wipe away the tears that were drying and leaving lines down my cheeks. I looked up, my eyes bloodshot, and took notice of all the stars, thinking about how the city-slickers would have seen them.
"Long ago, but not so very long ago, the world was different, oh yes it was. Ya settled down, and ya built a town, and made it there, and you watched it grow. It was your town."
I hadn't realized that the tears had started up again as I began singing quietly, gazing out into the star-spotted horizon. I could barely feel them pouring from both eyes, my cheeks numb from the freezing wind that was blowing past, ruffling my hair and lifting it gently.
"Time goes by, time brings changes, you change too. Nothin' comes that you can't handle, so on you go. You never see it comin', when the world caves in on you, on your town. There's nothin' you can do. Main Street isn't main street anymore, lights don't shine as brightly as they've, shone before. To tell the truth, lights don't shine at all, in our town."
It was as though there was a black hole somewhere nearby, just sucking all of the hope, and happiness, and dreams out of everyone, and leaving nothing behind but a raw, empty shell. There was no music, there was no laughter, there was no talk of the positives, simply because there didn't seem to be any. None at all. At first, we had been sure that the travelers were just going somewhere else, to give another town a chance to get back on the map, but we soon learned that this was not the case.
"Sun comes up each mornin', just like it's always done. Get up, go to work, start the day. You open up for business, that's never gonna come, as the world rolls by a million miles away. Main Street isn't main street, any more, no one seems to need us, like they did before. It's hard to find a reason, left to stay, but it's our town. We love it anyway, come, what, may, it's our town."
When I had finished, my head lowered, the tears now dripping straight from my eyes to the dirt. "It's our town." I whispered, my voice dying on my lips as the wind stole it away. I couldn't believe that nobody wanted to give the town a chance, not even for a vacation. It wasn't a bad place to be, but nobody seemed to want us.
I didn't know how long I sat there, my head down, my tears long since stopped. It wasn't that I wasn't sad, I just had no more tears left. I had resorted to sobbing once again, and I had sobbed until my throat was raw. It didn't change a thing though, so now I was just sitting quietly with my arms wrapped around my knees, sniffling every now and then, and shivering in the biting, freezing wind. At a gentle nudge to my side, I looked over, turning red, bloodshot eyes to the car at my side.
They rolled closer, their voice barely even a murmur. "Here." They draped a blanket around my shoulders, then parked at my side. Before I knew what was happening, I was being drawn against their fender, the two of us staying silent as we mourned the ghost of a town that was once a flurry of activity.
We gazed down at the town for a long time, hoping that the lonely scene would turn out to be just a dream, and that our town would still be bustling and happy. "We'd better get goin' before we both freeze."
Again, I looked over at them, my green eyes dull as well as red and bloodshot from crying. I wanted to say no, I wanted to scream some more at the horizon, I wanted to sob, I wanted to feel my heart being ripped out of my chest, a little at a time, but instead I sighed and stood up, going to lock up Wheel Well. They turned their headlights on, and they headed for the road as I trudged along behind them, the blanket still wrapped around my shoulders.
It was a long time getting back to the town, but I didn't mind. I was stiff from sitting up there all night, and I needed to warm myself up. We reached the Stanley statue, and I stopped for a moment, just gazing at the iron car on the pedestal. They realized that I hadn't followed them, and I heard them coming back. "He wouldn't have left this town die down. He would've been able to come up with a way to bring them back. Unlike me. I'm something not of this world, and not even that works forever. I'm as good as scrap metal now." My voice was nothing but a hoarse whisper, but they nudged me anyway.
"Foxy, don't say that. You know that it isn't true."
"Then where are the lines of cars? Where are the newspaper stories? Where are the countless press reporters? After someone who matters, someone who's more interesting, more important. All of them. I've lost what makes them intrigued. Curiosity. Fear. The urge to learn about me. All things that they used to carry, but that's all vanished, along with the travelers." I replied, lowering my head to look down at my badly-beaten shoes.
They sighed and pulled up at my side, looking up at me. I refused to look at them, until they called my name softly.
"Foxy, everything has its ups and downs. There's nothin' ya can do to stop it. All you've gotta do is let it happen, because things will get better. Maybe not in months, maybe not in years. But it will get better. Eventually."
I lowered my eyes again, and got a nudge in return. "Let's get to bed."
I nodded, not looking up. We headed towards Flo's, the sparsely-lit cafe like a guttering flame of hope. A few of the others were gathered there, many of the others having gone to bed. We went right by, and the few who were there lifted their hoods halfheartedly in greeting.
I just looked over at them, wrapped the blanket tighter around my shoulders, and walked on, not even a sigh needed to convince the others that I felt the same as they. I was nudged in front of the car at my side, and we entered the clinic, going straight through the darkened rooms to get to Doc's garage.
He settled down, and nudged my leg, inviting me to lay down. I did so, huddling on the concrete floor. Doc nudged me again, and I moved closer to his side, then draped the blanket over his roof as well as my shoulders. I got a bit more comfortable, then curled up at his side.
A tire was laid over me for comfort and I sighed quietly, thankful for even miniscule favors.
See, this is what happens when you decide to watch the 50th Anniversary of Doctor Who, then listen to 'Our Town' on repeat. Not only that, it's cold where I live, and I'm just sitting on the couch, all alone. XD It makes for a good atmosphere to write some depressing stuff, if you can't tell. No definite time frame on when this happens, so I hope you enjoy it. I don't own 'Our Town', James Taylor does. Sorry for slightly sadistic title, I couldn't think of any other way to describe it...