Little Town

Everyone knows. But no one will tell.

This is the unspoken motto of a small, middle-of-nowhere village by the name of Center. Why the name Center? No one knows for sure, but maybe the founder had grand plans of the place being bustling center. If so, they were wrong. Very, very wrong.

By small town standards, this place is miniscule - barely making the 100 population mark. Not even on the major maps. In fact, not even on any maps.

But, if you are really observant, you will notice an irregularity in the maps. The neighboring town says the place is a forest, another says a field, and yet another an uncrossable mountain. And for whatever reason, no one goes there. Tourists to the place are few and far between - say once a decade of two.

But enough on the size of the town. The town had more than enough secrets to make up for its diminutive size.

As the sun began to set on the coldest day of the year, a hiker desperate to get home stumbles across the village. He begins to approach one of the villagers, but a cold feeling lurks around the village and its population. He warily hangs back, creeping along the edge of the tree line, seeing if there was a store or something nearby.

The only store he sees is a small, worn down shack. It seemed like it would never make it pass house regulations, but it was obviously in use. A banner hung outside the place declaring “Miller’s General Store”. The hiker wondered if he could find some help in there - a map or a phone, maybe.

He is about to go up when that same sinking feeling reels in and he stays put. Wondering why he is getting that feeling, he examines the little town. Just a circle of buildings around a clearing. It was obviously an old town, with peeling paint and worn wood. But that was not even the strangest part - it was how everyone was outside. The storekeepers lounged outside, the residents hung around in tight-knit groups, chattering about unimportant topics. He wondered if they had anything better to do.

He catches a glint of light as the setting sun hits the top of the nearby mountain, and all the people become strangely quiet - from the youngest babies to the oldest inhabitants. And, as one, they rise, as if to the same tune of slow, unheard music, and walk back to their abodes which ringed the town. Step ….. Step ….. Step ….. Step. A set of drums in perfect tune - oiled machines in harmony. The hiker stopped to stare gape mouthed at the phenomenon. He was a hiker, and had seen small town do odd things, but nothing to this extent. It was as if they had the same brain controlling ech body at once.

And, as if on cue, each door shut at the exact moment the sun had disappeared from the horizon. And, as if waiting for the invisible hand, an invisible pause, the village quieted. Birds stopped their music, footsteps ceased. Every noise the hiker had ever gotten used to on his many hikes, the ones that seemed forever, were gone. It was as if someone had pressed the mute button - it was not just quiet. There was no sound. The hiker reeled back a bit, as if unsure of himself. But, slowly, as if drawn in by a puppet string, a month to a flame, he walked to the exact middle of the clearing which housed the village. A little dazed, he stood in misty silence until the first star appeared.

Finally, the note played and every one of the villagers opened their door and began to walk in perfect harmony, the eerie tune at which they danced finally being heard. The curtain was drawn, the actors revealed. They mechanically walked to the lone hiker, who began to whimper. He didn't know why he went that way, he didn’t know why he was so drawn to the town. But he was too afraid to move.

Finally, as the villagers approached the man, the leader - and he was obviously the leader, as he had confidence and a badge to prove it - reached forward, the others creating a circle which ringed the man. The hiker began to fidget a little, tugging at his sleeves and adjusting himself.

And he began a speech. A speech of how the world first began, how this village is the very tie of existence itself. How magic works, how the world operates. He told of every blooming flower, every living existence to graze the earth. He told the story of the universe. Soon, the hiker stopped fidgeting and just listened in awe.

As the speech came to a close, the last remains bouncing off the mountains, he asked the man one simple question -

“Do you accept?”

It was a question to accept the role of which brought him to the village. He was one of the selected few who could be brought to this place, one of the few who could accept this. He knew all he had to do is say ‘yes’, all he had to do was agree.

The man stilled, as if to think, and spoke the words of acceptance into their lives.

“Yup.”

The man smiled. “So it begins.”

The leader stepped back as the villagers stepped forwards, murmured words of thanks filling the hiker’s head as he was accepted into the village. As he was led to his new house, his new wife smiling at the door with children peeking out from behind her, he realized the meaning of the name Center. Not the center of a place, of people. But the center of the universe.