The Uncanny Valley: Tales from a Lost Town by Miller Gregory

Author:Miller, Gregory [Miller, Gregory]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: West Arcadia Press
Published: 2014-01-03T05:00:00+00:00

TITLE: “Buddy”

AUTHOR: Freddy Ward

AGE: 7

DADDY GOT A BIGFUT IN THE BAK PASTUR IN A SHED.

HE WONT LET NO ONE PLAY WITH IT. GRAMPA COT IT LONG AGO. HIS NAMES BUDDY. HES REEL BIG AND HE SMELLS FUNY. EVERYWON NOWS ABOUT HIM BUT THEY DONT MIND NONE AND THEY DONT BUG HIM. HE LIKES APPLES AN PIGS MEET.

AN THATS MY STORI.

TITLE: The Good Job

AUTHOR: Caity Griffin

AGE: 39

OCCUPATION: Waitress

Jessica Walters and I loved Halloween. Ever since we were little girls it was our favorite holiday. Neither of us married or had children, but ten years ago, since we missed walking around town and seeing all the decorations and children getting candy, we decided to stroll the cool evening streets anyway, watching the holiday unfold. And every year after that we did the same thing, shivering as the wind blew leaves off the great oaks and maples that lined the sidewalks, smelling the wood and pumpkin smoke, watching the children take hold of the night. For two hours, between seven and nine, Uncanny Valley became their town. And ours.

Well, three years ago I walked the dozen doors down to Jessica’s house and met her at the door. She was dressed as a witch, and I’d come up with something kind of resembling a mummy outfit (it was made of toilet paper and masking tape). We laughed a bit, talked about our shift down at What’s Cookin’ at Casey’s, compared tips, and headed out.

Jessica was in a fine mood. She’d just been promoted to Head Waitress, and that was good for both of us – she because of the raise, me because she was my best friend and that meant good shifts. And because it was Halloween, of course. We both loved what she called “safe terror,” the chance to feel afraid without actually being in danger – like watching a horror movie or reading a good ghost story.

The sun finished setting as we stepped out into the dark, and four blocks away Uncanny Courthouse tolled the hour. Halloween officially began. We started up Pugh Street, headed uphill four blocks, and turned right onto Church Street, which is lined with big, expensive houses and divides Upper Uncanny and the rest of town. Children swept around us like leaves: goblins, devils, scarecrows and fairy princesses. Their laughter was a natural part of the night, and we joined in.

Then, abruptly, Jessica stopped laughing – not gradually, but straight away, like a door had shut between her and me, cutting off all sound.

“Look at that,” she said in a low voice. And I looked.

Sitting on the front walkway step of the nearest three-story Victorian, a jack o’ lantern glowed brightly. And what a face! I gasped; I couldn’t help it. Whoever had carved it had done a very, very good job. It looked like a dead woman, you see. Matted, long hair framed a hollow-cheeked face. Its lips were pulled back, maybe rotted away, exposing too-long teeth. The nose was half-gone, and instead of eyes there was nothing left but empty sockets – painted black, not carved, so no light could shine through.

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