Page 29 - HEF Pen & Ink 2020

benches in the park, from the swings at playgrounds and the stools at the bar. They are watching you from store check-out lines and ordering queues. They watch you. They look how you remove your wallet from your pocket to pay for your road snacks and your bottle of water. They watch as you leave, tucking your change into your pocket. They see how you un- screw the cap of your water, give yourself rug burn on your palm from the divits in the plastic. They see how you drive slowly past the market, their eyes do not flinch when you slam on your breaks because, hey, where did that stop sign come from? It was not there when I came in! They see how you get more frantic the longer and longer this town seems to consume you. Their heads turn from the evening news, the newscasters following suit. All of them stare at you. They watch you get nervous, but they are adjacent
to stone. They do not move from you. They do not get closer but they never, ever get farther. They see you run a red light, they see you curse the day, they see The Sheriff’s car emerge from the corner. They knew he would come soon. The Sheriff, too, sees you. Their eyes are ice, white and unrelenting. They bore into you from every angle of every place in this small, unassuming town. They watch you struggle to find the exit. They watch as the desperation grows in you, how you ask the God of a godless town to let you exit from the nightmare that is Cedarmoor. They watch you scream into your dashboard as the night crawls towards you. They watch you put your pedal to the floorboards and as The Sheriff continues at the same pace he has for miles. You do not understand. How Cedarmoor could turn from a suburban row of town- houses and an empty, baseless lot of stores to miles and miles of the same buildings. Over, and over, and over again they watch as you pass by them again, again, again, again, and again. They do not change but you do. Cedarmoor changes you. The eyes change you, the watching changes you. They see you run out of gas, pull over on the side of the same black road you have been driving for hours. They watch you lock your doors fruitlessly in some wild attempt to stop the inevitable. They watch The Sheriff pull in behind you even after you swore to yourself he was miles and miles behind you. That does not matter to The
Sheriff.Watch who passes through Cedarmoor.
GAS PUMP
by McKenna Moore
DIABLO
Danielle Prouty
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