Red Town part 1

The sun warmed up the asphalt on that summer morning. The view of the rocky peaks was almost impossible through that pine forest. A van drove the lonely road with news signs painted on the sides.

Behind the wheel was a man in his middle twenties; robust, hairy arms and a cap covering his long brown hair. The man drove while munching chips with an upset expression. Aside was a woman about the same age on casual cloths with her tennis shoes up the dashboard while reading a map.

Then the man talked for the first time since they started the trip. "I wish they'd give us the Music Festival."

The woman lowered the map, rolled her eyes up and sighed. "We have less than two years working here and you want shooting the top news?"

"No, but I want filming something descent." The man replied upset. "A report about an Amish town sounds like some sort of newbie prank."

"They are not Amish; Red Town is a reserved community of farmers, Karen." The woman corrected the man.

"Amish, Hillbillies, farmers, they are a bunch of people wearing weird cloths and living in the past century." The driver added huffing.

"It's our job and we are going to article. Stop complaining, Tom!" The van became silent again. The woman turned to her left and stared at the window. She looked at the mountains peeking over the pines and then murmured. "I wish they'd give us the Music Festival."

About half hour later, the News van stops at the gas station in a small town. Inside the store, the reporters talk with the owner.

" Red Town , why in the world, would you want going there?" The owner exclaims scratching his head. "That place is weird."

"We have to do an article. What do you know about this place? I can't find it in the map." Karen asks with curiosity.

"Well, it's about thirty miles that way." The man pauses while pointing an uphill dirt road visible through the window. "They are a bunch of weirdoes. They travel here for supplies once a month and they leave before sunset. We only do business with the male."

"What about their women?" Karen asks surprised.

"I've seen women coming here only a few times and they don't talk with us. They all wear the same kind of skirts." The owner adds.

"Special cloths, like the Amish?" Tom asks while grabbing a big bag of chips.

"No. The men wear normal farmer cloths, but all their women wear long tight jeans skirts reaching down the ground. They walk funny and they always keep their heads down and remain silent no matter what." Then the owner leans forward toward the reporters. "They don't welcome outsiders into their town. They say the town is cursed and at night strange cries are heard up there."

"I'm afraid that information is wrong." Karen tells the man. "We received a letter at the station welcoming us to their town and do a report there and it was signed by a woman."

"Well, this is my advice. Do your report and leave that town as quickly as you can." The man tells Karen and then a big smile appears in his face. "That would be 17.95 for the gas and the bag of chips."

About an hour later, the reporters arrive to a small town after taking the sinuous road as the gas station man told them. The streets were cobblestoned, the sidewalks and homes were adorned with plants and colors it seems they had painted the light poles and street sighs that morning. They parked the van in what it seems to be the town's square aside of a beautiful small church with a tall bell tower at the front. In the center of the small plaza, a 15 feet tall rock monolith stood at the center of the square. The tall rock had a vertical line dividing it in two. Near the monolith was a metal bust of a man with a plate at the pedestal.

"In Memory of William Smith, our founder." Karen reads at the plate at the statue.

Town people start gathering around the reporters. The visitors notice the women's odd long thick jean skirts going down the ground. Young and old, all of them wear them.

A man in his late thirties approaches them. The crowd opens as the man walks toward the reporters. By the time the man reaches the couple, the rest of the people spread and they continue working as they were before the reporters arrived.

"You must be the people mom invited. Please follow me." The man tells them and escorts the reporters to his old Pickup truck.

The reporters ride with the man after carrying their equipment in the back of the truck. While the man drives, the reporters can't help admiring the picturesque place.

"I must confess I'm amazed about this place. Is great what you have done here." The cameraman exclaims while filming.

"Well, if we are going to spend the rest of our lives here, at least we can make it pleasant." The man responds and the reporters look at each other.

The farmer takes them to a small, but pretty home. Inside they meet his mother, an old woman in a wheelchair with a joyful smile. She gives them a fervent handshake as her other hand trembles over the blanket covering her lap.

"Hello, I'm Nancy and this is my son." The woman exclaims happy to see them.

"It's a pleasure. This is Ben and I'm Karen, Karen Hendricks from channel 6 news." The news reporter tells the old woman.

Nancy gulps while her eyes widen. The old woman remains staring at Karen until her son grabs her shoulder from behind. "Mom, these people drove many miles to do the interview of the town as you wanted."

The reporters start the interview with the old woman. She tells them about the town's history and the everyday life in Red Town . The woman and the cameraman listen to her story.

"About forty years ago, Bill and I came here. This place was just four neighbor farm families. With hard work, my husband and with their help, transformed the place into want you've seen. There's electricity, but no phone or Television. We live from what we harvest and raise. We have a better place than the towns around that we trade with." The old woman tells them proud.

"Tell us, Nancy Smith, more about your husband, the founder of the town." Karen tells the old woman when she paused.

"Don't believe everything you read." The old woman replied chuckling. "Bill passed away last year and my son takes care of me since. People here respected Bill and so they did the plate you saw in the square, but he didn't found the town. He just worked as hard as everyone else."

"How do the people of Red Town relax after a hard day of work?" The reporter asks.

"Well, we all gather at night at the church. All women dance ballet and the girls train for their day of..." The old woman pauses after her son clears his throat.

Nancy changed the subject abruptly. The interview went on while Karen narrows her eyes. About fifteen minutes later, Karen prepares to end the talk. "Anything else you want to tell our viewers, Nancy ?"

"Yes!" The old woman exclaims and then her joyful smile disappears as she stares at the camera. "If you see this, Ernest, please help us. It's been forty years of punishment. I want to leave this place and watch the world before my last breath."

"You must leave." Nancy 's son exclaims serious.

The farmer takes back the reporters to their van. During the trip he remains silent, but when they stop at the town square, he says to them. "Mom is an old woman and she was not feeling good."

The reporters exit the town. Karen remains thoughtful while Ben complains. "The guy at the gas station was right!"

"They are hiding something... I saw it in her eyes." Karen mutters.

...