Member
Fading Memory
Location: Cornerstone Baptist Church → Jackson's House → Main Street
Interacting with: No one/NPCs
November: a fall month by definition, but to Jackson, it felt like the dead of winter already. It was amazing what a difference only a few degrees of latitude had on the weather. Back home in Alabama, according to his weather app, it was 77°F and not a cloud in sight. In Verona, it was the polar opposite. Cloudy, cold, with ice already coating the streets and sidewalk. It seemed the local residents of Verona, while accustomed to the weather, did not seem to like it. But to Jackson, it was all novel, which made it slightly more bearable. On top of everything, there was talk of a storm... The "Storm of the Century" they were calling it; it was the only thing they seemed to talk about when Jackson put on the news. He wondered what the storm would bring with it... a blizzard? Maybe. Despite being maybe a little nervous about it, Jackson had seen plenty of hurricanes in his days from back home, so this shouldn't be anything he couldn't handle.
It was Sunday, and Jackson was surprised to see Verona was a lot like the South in many respects despite the opposite weather. Stores closed, people crammed into the local Baptist church... Of course, Jackson attended church, as he always did. But he never did pay attention during the service. He merely went in, said some half-hearted prayers in his head during the service, and left to go home. This Sunday was no different.
Being careful to watch his step on the dangerous black ice that formed on the sidewalks and listening to the salt crunch underneath the heel of his boot, Jackson took a look around him at the scenery he was still getting to. All the deciduous trees were bare, their scraggly branches reaching up to the sky. The pines, however, looked as green as ever. As a child, Jackson always thought evergreens were "smarter" than their deciduous cousins. In the winter, there was still sunlight, albeit much less, and shedding your leaves from a little cold seemed like a weakness to him.
Jackson arrived at his tiny house at the edge of town. He could have taken his old, black pickup truck, but he wanted to feel the brisk air on his face and get some exercise along the way. Unlocking the door, he let the heated air warm his body as he dropped his coat on the couch.
Jackson enjoyed having his own place. He couldn't bear living with his parents. The freedom was something he wasn't used to, and he still found it annoying to cook, clean, and do the laundry, but it was a small price that he was willing to pay. As he turned on the stove to cook some eggs for breakfast, Jackson turned on the news and listened to it as he cooked.
Before he had a chance to tune into whatever was being reported, Jackson's phone vibrated loudly on the counter. It was a call, from his mother. With a small sigh, he plucked the phone up from the counter.
"Hello?" the Southern accent was very noticeable in his voice.
"Jackson, honey," came his mothers voice.
"Hey, Mom. Good morning. Why you calling?"
"Did you go to church today?" she dodged his question.
Jackson held the phone to his ear with one hand, scrambling the eggs with the spatula in his other hand.
"Yes, of course I did..."
"Good. How's the weather up there? I checked the news. They said some storm's gonna be hittin' the West Coast soon. Are you prepared?"
"Yeah, probably just gonna be some snow or rain or whatever."
"Remember to buy some water before it hits."
"Yes, Mom, I know."
There was a bit of silence.
"Are you gonna come back for Thanksgiving?" came his mother's question that Jackson was dreading.
Jackson turned off the burner and tilted the pan so the eggs fell neatly onto a breakfast plate.
"Maybe, Mom. Right now, they're not advising any kind of travel. I'll talk to you about it once this all passes and the holiday gets a little closer."
"I want you to come."
Jackson rolled his eyes but made sure not to sigh on the phone.
"I know, Mom. I'll see what I can do. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"Alright, Jackson. I ran into your old football coach at church today. He was asking if that... junior college up there in Washington's got a team." The phrase 'junior college' came out of her lips with a certain sense of disgust.
"I don't know, I've really got to focus on making good grades and money, right now anyway."
His mother sighed.
"Okay. Enjoy your Sunday, Jackson."
"You too, Mom."
He ended the call quickly and rubbed his forehead. Even when he managed to escape his hell, his parents still want him doing shit that he just didn't want to. Typical...
The drone of the television came back to Jackson's attention as he sat at the table to eat his eggs. He sniffled a little, still feeling some lingering effects of that preculiar cold he had caught, but thankfully it had gone away.
The report was on Main Street... It sounded like there had been some kind of break-in? No, a... break-out? But nothing was stolen? How could gas explode outward? It wasn't some kind of natural gas explosion? No...
Jackson stopped eating to focus on the television for a minute and listen to the enigmatic story and interviews.
There was so much going on lately in what Jackson had perceived to be a quiet, little town. First the storm, then this, not to mention... This weird electrical thing going on with his body. He had no idea what it was, and it scared him to death. But he didn't want to think about that. He needed to distract himself... Getting up, he dropped his dishes into the sink—he'd see to them later—and grabbed his coat.
It was time to rack up some good karma and head over to Main Street to help out. It seemed to be what the rest of the town was doing anyway. Maybe he'd run into some familiar faces along the way.
In his few months of living in Verona, Jackson had been acquainted with many of the townsfolk. His closest friend that he had made as of currently was a guy named Cal Thompson, around his age. Definitely a nice kid all around. Jackson had also come across a girl who everyone called "V," along with an assortment of other people each with names that Jackson tried very hard to remember. He was relived to meet people, though; he was afraid making friends in a small town would be much harder.
Climbing into his truck, he drove down to Main Street. After parking and walking over, Jackson saw there seemed to be a lot of confusion about. People, reporters... Definitely a strange event. Jackson walked about and looked at the glass, saw the strange way in which it had all been broken. He would have blamed it on the weather if the glass hadn't been pushed from the inside out... Definitely odd.
Jackson went about quietly, helping random storekeepers clean up class, board up windows and store goods.
