Hey guys, I’m not sure if this is the right place to talk about this, but I found something interesting I figured would be up all your alleys.
So I live in the middle of nowhere, not like a desert or anything but just there’s nothing interesting around for quite a while. The town I live in only has about 1,500 residents and the nearest city is about 50 minutes away. If I want to, for instance, go see the latest Marvel movie in theaters it’s a drive of about 1 hour and 10 minutes. Yeah, THAT kind of middle of nowhere. It’s not completely empty of course, there’s other small towns peppered everywhere, we live in a valley surrounded by some small to medium sized hills and there’s a nice creek running through the middle of main street. There’s farms and woods and just a whole bunch of stuff. I don’t want anyone to get the impression that this is some “empty fields on all sides” middle of nowhere.
I want to leave, I NEED to leave. I don’t want to spend my entire life with no amenities, I don’t want to live in a place where the only restaurants are 2 pizza places that serve basically the same pizza but people still get tribal about who they prefer. I graduated high school a couple months ago and applied to go to a nice state college about 4 hours away. I was accepted but due to a bunch of (excuse my language) shit the office of financial aid pulled I owed a balance of $1,300 that would need to be paid before I could start. So I got a job, and luckily it’s a nice one at our local library. My aunt runs the place so she got me started on a 6 hour per day shift and it’s been nice. I have the money for college, and now I’m just waiting for mid August when I’ll drive to my dorm to get settled in. But I found something at the Library that was very odd and like I said you guys here might enjoy.
So the Library is made up of 2 main rooms, the Library itself and the employee room. The employee room is basically a large living room of sorts with a couch, a small TV, a couple card tables (for the weekly poker night) and boxes filled with unused books. Because it’s a tiny town, the library isn’t used much so I spend most of my day on the couch watching TV or whatever and I’ll go into the Library when the door chime goes off, which means someone opened the door. And when I say there’s boxes of books, I mean DOZENS of boxes, maybe 50 or 60. This is where things begin really. My aunt planned on setting up a booth at a flea market a couple towns over, and she wanted to sell the unused and overstocked books on hand, so she gave me the job of going through the boxes and taking out any books in which we had an overstock on or hadn’t been rotated onto the shelves in a while. I might not explain it well but it was a simple task. It was pretty tedious but also pretty fast, especially when I had boxes full of 15 copies of The Hunger Games my aunt bought during the peak of their popularity. I got to the last few boxes, which were covered in dust and had that timeless smell of old paper. I’d estimate the last 4 or 5 boxes hadn’t been touched, let alone sorted through, in at least 10 years. They contained an assortment of things like “The Guiness Book of World Records 2007”, some Roald Dahl classics, Gary Paulsen books, and a ton of western dime novels from the 60s and 50s. But it was the 2nd to last box I looked through when I found it.
At the bottom of the box was a hardcover book called “Local Tales and Wisdom” by an author named Peter Robinson. I flipped it open to look for the library checkout stamp but couldn’t find it, instead on the inside of the cover was a stamp that said “Not for resale”. And that was it. There was no publisher information, no copyright date, nothing. I read the prelude on the first page and surprisingly enough the book is about my town. So it is my assumption that this was the original copy of a self published book that was intended to be formally published (hence the Not for Resale stamp) but for whatever reason just wasn’t, I think the author also lends credence to my theory because it very obviously sounds like a pen name. The book is quite old, I can tell just by how it looks, and if I was to guess when it was made I would say sometime in the 70s or 60s but I could be wrong. The book is just what the title says, and I wanted to transcribe it for you guys since I read it and found it a bit bizarre and interesting. Now I will note that I am apparently not the first person to read it, as there are some markings that have been done by what I would assume is the person who read it before me, but if my theory that this was the original copy meant for distribution, the markups could also be made by the author.
Quick disclosure before we begin, I will italicize my words from now on, so if you see anything in Italics, that is me and not the original text, I may chime in to point out markups or just to interject some thoughts about certain aspects of the book, I’m also going to censor out location details for obvious reasons. I’ll go ahead and segment stuff just like it is in the book.
Prelude
For Kaitlin.
The town of ______ is a small community nestled into the hills of the _____ River Valley, quaint in its appearance, yet rich in history. I spent the first forty years of my life living just outside town, and I intend to spend the remaining years, however many or few, I have raising my children with the same values I was instilled with. As any town, ______ has it’s own culture and history, mixed with urban folklore and stories, and without documentation, these histories fade. What you are reading is a compilation of what I have learned, what I have heard, and what I know. Wisdom about the town and the valley, and tales spread from person to person, from parents to child, and from generation to generation. These have been collected over years, and put onto paper for you to read. Thank you.
The dedication at the top has been crossed out with a pen, I can only barely make out the name as whoever crossed it out did so quite violently it seems.
Wisdom: Superstitions
It is oft said that the _____ Woods just south of town are haunted by a headless spirit. While not a man of religious nature myself, the superstitious may avoid the hiking trails running through the area.
I guess this is one of those generational things passed down, as a child everyone knew to avoid those woods because a headless ghost would get you if you were alone. Weird to see that legend was around even this far back.
The Miss and the Spirit
There was once a young Miss of no more than twelve. Every day she would sit by the creek and toss stones into the water, dreaming about her future. Her father, the town doctor, would call for her at sunset and she would come running into the house for supper. She would sit at the table and talk about her dreams to live in the big city, a notion her parents found most amusing. One day she did not come at sunset when called, bringing worry to her father. He searched up and down the creek where she usually was but found no sign of the child, for little did he know she had wandered into the woods chasing a frog. She only realized where she was once the frog had disappeared into the thick grass. Afraid, she began to run in the direction she believed she came from, only to find more trees, she ran and ran until her ankle caught itself between a rock and branch and she fell. Her ankle hurt very much, and she could no longer stand on it. The child began to cry as she was alone, surrounded by the darkening forest, until she saw a hole in the side of a hill. She crawled towards it, finding a cave that lead down into darkness. “Hello child”, came a voice from the darkness, “Have you found yourself astray?” The child looked and saw a spirit walking towards her, glowing with light and holding out their hand. “I hurt my ankle and can’t find my way home”, the Child said. The spirit knelt down and put his hand on her ankle before saying, “Do not be frightened, for the way home is always lit.” The child closed her eyes and when they were opened again she found herself on the edge of the woods, her home in the distance and a crowd of townsfolk approaching her. None would believe her story and others thought she had played a cruel joke on her parents.
Many years later, the young Miss had become a woman living in the big city just as she had dreamt. On holiday she decided to return home to be with her parents, but she was bearing terrible news. She had discovered that she would be unable to carry children, causing her fiance to leave her. Despite the sadness, her holiday was still quite joyful as she spent the days and nights living and laughing with her parents. One night, she was out on her horse riding along the creek she used to play at when her horse was spooked. She was thrown from the saddle and into the creek, her head clashed against a stone and she was still. A passerby noticed and helped, but the Miss would not reopen her eyes. Her father examined her and rushed her to every doctor in every town he knew, but none could wake her up. After many days, her parents had lost hope until a thought occurred to her father. He picked up his daughter and walked into the woods, and he kept walking until he came upon a hole in the side of a hill. And in the cave he found the spirit, and at the spirit’s feet he placed his daughter and begged for help. The Spirit considered the father’s pleading, and told him to leave the cave. The father exited and sat himself on a rock. There he sat for what seemed to be hours, until he was startled by a voice. “Father?”, it was the voice of his daughter, who emerged from the cave. She walked as if nothing had been amiss, and tucked in her arms, crying loudly, was a child. The father was astonished, and asked where the child had come from, his Daughter simply told him, “He is our gift.”
The End.
Every instance of the word “Spirit” has been crossed out, and written in the margins above it is “Creature”.
The Drunk who Lied
In town there was once a notorious drunkard named Walter, and every night Walter would spend what little money he had on drink. Watler would entertain the Bar folk with his antics but few townspeople would tolerate his behavior. Walter was a drunk, and a fool, and a cheapskate, but above all Walter was a liar. He would lie about his income, he would lie about his day, and he would lie about his life. Walter was banned from playing cards and he was banned from playing dice. Walter was a liar after all, and nobody likes a liar.
Every morning he would come into town with a new story about how he was chased home by a pack of angry dogs, or how he was attacked by an intruder but valiantly fought them off with only his fists. And every morning the townsfolk would respond the same way: “Sure thing Walter, see you tomorrow.” Because after all, nobody likes a liar.
One morning, Walter came running into town and told everyone that he had seen an Angel standing at the edge of the Woods, and everyone said “Sure thing Walter, see you tomorrow.” Walter then continued on his day and everyone forgot what he said. Because after all, nobody likes a liar.
The next morning Walter came running into town and told everyone that the Angel was outside his house and tried speaking to him, and everyone said “Sure thing Walter, see you tomorrow.” Walter then continued on his day and everyone forgot what he said. Because after all, nobody likes a liar.
The next morning Walter came running into town and told everyone that it wasn’t an Angel, it was a monster of pure black with white eyes, and it was following him, and everyone said “Sure thing Walter, see you tomorrow.” Walter then continued to yell in the town square and everyone forgot what he said. Because after all, nobody likes a liar.
The next morning Walter came running into town and told everyone that the thing was staring at him through his window while he slept, and everyone said “Sure thing Walter, see you tomorrow.” Walter then stood in silence in the town square as everyone passed him by, and everyone forgot what he said. Because after all, nobody likes a liar.
The next morning Walter walked into town, he told a passerby that the creature was standing in the hallway outside his bedroom while he slept, and the passerby said “Sure thing Walter, see you tomorrow.” Walter then sat on the ground in the town square, and didn’t talk to anyone. And the passerby forgot what he said. Because after all, nobody likes a liar.
The next morning nobody saw Walter, and Walter would never be seen in the town square again. And no one noticed. Because after all, nobody likes a liar.
The End.
Someone put a sticky note on the back of the final page, it simply says “Look Further”. Also, In the main passage, Walter is underlined throughout, there is also a footnote written at the bottom, it’s quite long but it’s been run through with black ink, so I have no clue what it said.
Wisdom: Wildlife
Though in the middle of quiet country, the county has quite diverse wildlife. It is always recommended to not go into the woods alone or at least without bear mace. The last bear sighting here was some time ago but there is always risk.
There are two venomous snakes in the region, at least officially there are but none have been sighted for many decades. Keeping to the trail while hiking and avoiding tallgrass is the best deterrent.
In general, the wildlife population has slowly been diminishing over many decades, I suspect pollution or over-hunting to be to blame, but one can never be sure.
Odd to see this be mentioned as you’d be hard pressed to see so much as a deer out here. But I guess back when this was written it was more abundant. Strange note however, this entire page has been circled.
Mrs. Bakerton
During the era of great depression, many faced strife’s aggression,
Yet not Mrs. Bakerton, oh no, she defied recession.
A wicked soul she was, with a demeanor so vile,
Flaunting triumph arrogantly with every street mile.
Her spouse, the town’s banker, held its core in his grip,
She paraded his name, made sure everyone did trip.
No soul despised as much in our humble town,
Than Mrs. Bakerton, with her darkened, cruel and hateful crown.
In sharp contrast to her mate, Mr. Bakerton was fair,
A gentle, kind presence, holding a truly friendly air.
But she, the dame of malice, thrived in her hate,
The town’s vilest essence, her deeds so innate.
But on a cold day in November, it came to it’s head,
As on that dark day, Mrs. Bakerton was found dead.
A crime truly evil, bitter, and spiteful.
But to those in town, the outcome was quite delightful.
Upon the murder scene, the police arrived,
The Bakerton’s backyard, where her life had been deprived.
With a shovel, it seemed, Mrs. Bakerton was harmed,
A brutal act that left all deeply alarmed.
The butcher, the grocer, the paperboy too,
All faced questions, as the investigation grew.
Yet strangely it seemed, as details unfurled,
The police’s willingness to solve the crime was unswirled.
For after all Mrs. Bakerton was not well liked,
And even the town sheriff, she had managed to spite.
One thing stood however, though the mystery would endear,
Why Mr. Bakerton was never questioned, remains very unclear.
The End.
I actually remember hearing this before, I read it in elementary school of all things if I remember correctly. I might not but this whole passage sounds very familiar. Throughout this entire passage, “Bakerton” is underlined. Not sure why.
The Noises at Night
There was a man named John who lived in a cabin. His cabin was small and quaint, resting on the side of a hill in the woods south of town. Every morning he would sit on the porch and watch the sunrise, and every night he would watch the sunset. John was a quiet man, and company annoyed him rather than endeared him, but the townsfolk were happy to oblige. John would rarely visit town, on Sunday to attend church and on Wednesdays to buy groceries for the week, but he kept to himself most often.
John had spent one Thursday cutting down trees in the woods, this was of course to gather logs to build a new smoke shed. John cut into one tree and heard a noise, “Well that there sounds like some poor fox in pain.” he said. At night on his porch, John heard the noise again, only closer. “That fox must be a hurtin an awful lot.” he said, and he went inside to go to bed.
The next morning, John was on his porch when he saw a monster most foul. It was as pure as black and had a dozen hands. “This creature is nothing I’ve seen,” John said, and the creature seemingly heard him as it moved towards the cabin. John got up and tipped his hat, “Foul devil I will wipe your very existence from this earth if I must.” John threw open his door and produced his father’s firearm. John fired a shot into the ground near the creature, but it remained moving undeterred. John fired another shot, this time at the creature itself, but again it moved undeterred. “What in the devil is this?” John said, panicked at the sight. He saw the creature more clearly, it’s eyes small and white, it’s mouth nearly the size of a tree stump. John ran inside and shut the door, throwing down every lock he had. Moments passed when a shadow covered every window in the front of the cabin, and there was a knocking at the door.
Inside he remained for the whole day, as the sun dipped and the moon rose. For hours the knocking at the door continued, John was most frightened, unable to think of a way out. The noise came again, a deafening scream of pain and terror that he had originally thought to be a fox. The knocking at his door had gotten louder and more incensed as the time passed by, and John knew he could not get out. But as the sun dipped below the horizon, it all stopped. John looked out his window and saw nothing. He was tired, and he was happy.
John crawled into bed, ready to sleep off the day. He pulled his blanket close to his chin and looked up at the ceiling. He saw nothing but pure black, and two small white eyes staring back at him. And entering the room, and slipping under the blanket next to him, he saw himself. And John could do nothing as the creature lowered one of its hands, and as John was held, it snaked its way down his throat, as John tried his best to make noise.
But every Sunday John still went to Church, and every Wednesday he still got groceries. Only now he came to town for a third day, for on Fridays he found himself at a house, a house he did not know. But he remained for only a little time, before his friend, the man in the white overcoat, came to take him back home to his room.
The End.
This is the only passage in the entire book that does not appear to be marked up.
Wisdom: Navigation
Those who have never been to town may find themselves lost, as any traveler does in a new environment. The Library on Main Street contains various maps of the town and it’s surrounding wilderness, as well as many guides to local restaurants, hiking trails, and places to avoid. Be warned however, many places have not been properly outfitted for motorized vehicle transportation!
This gives the indication that the town used to be more tourist focused, which I have heard but that died out decades ago, I think it must have been a mid 20th century thing.
I’ll close out for now, that’s almost half of the book, I’ll work on transcribing the rest in my own time. I’ll try and answer questions if you have any!