Fall Breeze

Naomie hopped in her truck, more invigorated than usual. The fall breeze had arrived, swirling around the maple leaves. There was something about autumn that she just loved. It was an odd period between the lethargy of summer and the hibernation of winter, where people truly awoke, even if only for a month or two. In the fall, everything was a little sharper.

She was in such a good mood that she didn’t even mind that there was praying mantis in her seat, which she brushed away with little care, never one to be afraid of bugs. Squirrels, on the other hand. They had it out for her. They were the only downside of fall, as they scrambled for nuts, staring at her with those beady eyes. She put on some John Lennon, eager to think about something else.

As she drove along her route, Naomie could faintly hear the high school band practicing, chanting “Go, fight, go, fight, win!" Fall was also the time for high school football. Ah high school. Those days free from the claws of reality, those days when she had dreamed of leaving that little town, and travelling the world. But there was no point in thinking about that now. Slightly unsettled, she continued her drive, sifting and sorting and placing mail as she went. However, a pleasant distraction soon popped up. They were setting up for the fall festival!

The fall festival had always been a highlight in Naomie’s life. Even when times were rough, she knew she could escape into that world of pumpkins and mazes and crafts. And it was a different world, not like St.___ at all. Bubba had always told her that St.____ was the town that slept. That was why they had moved there, after all. But the fall festival carried with it a vibrancy that did not match the normal pace of the town at all. Although she could have stayed there all day, watching the sunflower maze appear, she had a route to complete.

She drove back into town, already bobbing for apples in her head, when something drew her out of her daydream. There were sirens and bells ringing, spreading throughout the town. She looked up, and what she saw was so steeped in irony that William Shakespeare himself would have applauded it. The fire station. It was on fire. And the firemen were calling themselves to come put it out.

Naomie watched as the fire department finally sorted themselves and put out the flames. Once this was done, she walked over to Felix, one of the deputies.

“Is everyone alright?” she asked.

The deputy’s eyes were downcast as he responded, “No, we lost Lewis.”

Naomie squeezed her eyes shut and muttered a quick prayer, just like her grandmother had taught her, but she was distracted. Death had struck St._____, and Naomie could not help but wonder whether the town would give any reaction at all.