Not that last night farmer Jedidiah found a circle of dead rabbits in his pasture, all bitten at the neck, but uneaten.
Definitely not that Mrs. Janesville, Sunday school teacher, saw a tall figure with spiked fur descending its back and claws the size of coke cans walking through her garden last Saturday evening.
No stranger needed to know the towns business, and no towns person needed to know any outsiders business either.
In this place of mysteries and narrow minds, there lived a 6 foot tall secret. Said 6 foot tall secret was laying in her bed at the moment, staring out her bedroom window, into the night sky, pondering her current situation. Well, 6’5” secret, if we're being specific.
Esmeralda Vasquez was going to start her first year of college next week, at the “prestigious” (or at least their pamphlet claimed so) and vaguely dark academic Greensboro University. GU sat in, well, Greensboro, the nearest place populated enough to be called a city at 8,000 residents, 2,000 of which were college students, making the summer and holiday residency approximately 6,000 minus a few stragglers.
Greensboro was known for having a decent nursing program, and a shocking commitment to the English University aesthetic for a place with meager funding and no notable alumni. The reason it could look like an Olde’ Time University in the first place was because the grounds originally belonged to the Rosethorn estate.
Information pertaining to the Rosethorn family was thin, it was known that they founded Greensboro Township in the 1800’s and that they were incredibly wealthy, details were muddy past that.
Esme had begged her Father's to allow her to go to college for two years before they relented, and when they did she begged further to go to University of Minnesota or University of Wisconsin, but her Father’s refused to pay for anywhere that wasn't Greensboro because they wanted her to stay close to home, which she resented, despite understanding their reasoning.
Esme knew she was lucky her parents could even afford to pay for her to attend Greensboro. She was always reading things in the news about student loan debt.
The Vasquez family wasn't supposed to have any money, in fact the three of them would still be living in a shoe box in New York City if Raul's Grandmother hadn’t left him her Queen Anne house and all of her money.
Esme wished she had stayed alive, partially because she had heard Grandma Vasquez was a riot, and partially because if she was alive perhaps Esme wouldn't be living in Hartsfield.
To Esme, Hartsfield was a prison with rusted bars. Everything was falling apart and everyone wanted to relive the same day until they died.
The most exciting things in town were her family, and indeed to the townsfolk her family were things. A spectacle. Two well dressed gay men and their notably tall, notably orange headed daughter, who wore nothing but shorts and ratty t-shirts.
Miguel always wanted Esme to dress nicer, but none of the frilly outfits he wanted her to wear fit right. Not only was she 6’5” but also naturally muscular.
When she was fourteen, the neighbor boys told her she looked like she could flip a car. She didn't think they meant it as a compliment. She wondered if she could really flip a car?
And anyway, even if she could wear some beautiful gown, she'd be too anxious about shredding it to enjoy the experience. Her t-shirts were ratty for a reason, she was always accidentally ripping holes in everything.
She hoped Greensboro would be different, that 8,000 people would be enough to find one kindred spirit, maybe even more than one.
The idea that it could be a Hartsfield with even more people to glare at her on the street weighed on her mind however.
She wondered if there was room anywhere in the world for a giant bodybuilder-esc girl with the hair of a disheveled troll doll.
Esme hated cutting her hair more than anything. Even trims were torture. She felt like she was losing a part of herself. So after twenty years, her untameable orange spikes fell just long enough that sometimes, if she wasn't careful, she would sit on them.
Luckily she kept it in a high ponytail most of the time, tied with a silk scarf Raul had gifted her years ago, so she only nearly snapped her own neck every once in a while. Usually right before bed.
Esme looked at her clock, bleary eyed. It shone 12:31 AM.
Just one more week, she thought, just one more week and she would be free. Or at least she would be something new.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Farmer Jedidiah’s rooster crooned nextdoor.
It was 7:00 AM.
She wished the foxes had gotten the rooster along with the rabbits.
Put that in the middle of your rabbit circle she thought, maybe that would appease her.
Unwillingly, she pushed herself out of bed and walked into the hall, her body feeling heavy. She walked down the creaky stairs, through the dusty living room and into the kitchen. As usual, the kitchen was blindingly bright with early morning sunlight.
Miguel was mixing blueberries into pancake batter and simultaneously checking the rise on some nearby bread dough. Gingerly lifting the bread cloth and nodding his head.
“Goo’ ‘ornin’.” Said Esme, still feeling and sounding half asleep.
Miguel turned to her, bright eyed and bushy tailed as usual “Good morning sweetie! Breakfast will be ready soon, fetch me some eggs from the coop for the scramble would you?”
Esme grumbled, but opened the backdoor leading to the garden.
“Be careful not to crack the eggs with your nails please!”
“I knooow.” She said, dragging her feet to the chicken coop.
She did not like the chickens, and the chickens did not like her in return. She supposed that was fair.
After she quickly grabbed as many eggs as the screaming chickens would allow, she hurried inside.
“I don't know if I should keep doing that, I think I’m stressin’ out the chickens.” She said upon arriving back in the kitchen.
“Nonsense, they need to build thicker skins. They'll make thicker shells that way.” Miguel said, flipping a pancake. Esme doubted that, but wasn't going to argue, not so early in the morning.
She grabbed a bowl from a cabinet, and oh so carefully cracked in the eggs. She threw the shells into the compost bin right outside the backdoor, then grabbed a fork and started beating the eggs like they had done her wrong.
She added salt, pepper and a gratuitous amount of cheddar cheese, then set the bowl aside for Miguel to cook later. She’d cook them herself, however he was picky about that part. Plus he said he didn't like his stove being crowded.
She grabbed a glass of water, then took a seat at the kitchen table. It must have been a hundred years old. Raul said his Grandmother's Father had cut the tree and carpented it himself. It was dark wood with endless chips and scorch marks. Esme liked that it had a long history, it was like the table was a person itself.
As Esme began scratching at a chip in the table for the 1000th time, Raul walked into the kitchen. He wore a fluffy bathrobe, his dreadlocks were pulled into a low ponytail and his thick rimmed glasses were sat too low on his nose. He looked tired.
He pecked the crown of Esme’s head and said “Good morning Mi Amor.” Then walked towards Miguel and laced his arms around his waist, laying his head on Miguel's back and closing his eyes.
“Am I your standing bed today?" Miguel asked, amused
Raul nodded against his back.
“Well this standing bed is making breakfast, find another please.”
Raul groaned and then sat across from Esme at the old table.
“Long night?” Esme asked
“Very long, I haven't managed to identify even a single character.”
Raul was a linguist, and a well respected one at that. Museums would send him artifacts from all over the world to translate. He mainly studied ancient languages, and helped crack newly discovered languages.
Which is what he had been up to for the past few months. He had been given three ceramic pots to translate by the Smithsonian four months ago and had made absolutely no progress so far.
“Want to come with me to the farmers market this afternoon? Clear your mind, eat some heirloom tomatoes...” Miguel said, gently placing two plates of blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs in front of Esme and Raul. Esme's plate was piled especially high.
“I don't know… I’m not sure I feel like being gawked at today.” Said Raul, taking a big bite of pancake. Miguel placed a mug of black coffee in front of Raul.
“Raul, you're always being gawked at anyway!”
Raul furrowed his brow “By who?”
“By me!” Said Miguel, kissing Raul affectionately on the cheek
Raul chuckled at that.
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