pastel prom queens

❝ something sinister stirs in spectracy. ❞

it lies beyond the straight-trimmed hedges and picket fences. beyond the suburban quilt of manicured lawns and sunday afternoon barbecues. it’s saturated pink like a promise. deepening blue like a bruise. but what could be wrong about a small town in michigan? surely, you must be confused.

this is but a daydream of pastels, prom queens, and sharing pot roast recipes with nancy next door. it’s green grass, the happy housewife, and splattered blood on the floor.

in a town like this, there’s never need for change. why would there be, when everything’s beautiful this way? an offer of a life with cookie cutter houses, organized bake sales and bright-eyed cheerleaders with knives for teeth.

why wouldn’t you want to stay?

is it because the man across the street has a shed he hides bodies beneath?

ancient and anew, this town is saturated with color and a lot of blood too. but surely, you’d be drawn in by the pretty scenery and the lovely views. if you aren’t interested in soda pop songs or a locally-renowned milkshake, the surrounding woodlands is quite something too. but be careful, be wary, be extra cautious: it has taken many and it will also take you.  

really, it’s a wonder that something so picturesque has so few inhabitants. but how is it possible that over the years, the population count never grew? most people blame it on its strange isolation from the rest of the world. unless you’re really looking for it, you don’t find yourself exactly ‘passing through’.

but if you do, then welcome to spectracy. once you’re here, you’ll never want to leave. and even if you did, this town eventually grows its roots around your feet, trapping you and your entire family too.

things are perfect here: freshly-painted and idyllic.

but to keep it that way, your next-door neighbor might actually kill you.

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