Well, that's okay. Round here, we rook townies and outsiders alike. That's our little joke round these here parts.
Lemora, Missouri's a right nice place, as small towns go. It's naught but your average little wide place in the highway, to tell you the truth.
Up the road we got Brobdingnagian Industries; that takes care of our jobs...down the road we got Clark College; that takes care of our book learning. Our school, our church, and our post office, they're all here together on Shipper Street, within walking distance of one another. Perfect for an old goat like me what don't like to trot s' much.
What's that you say? Well, sometimes strange things do happen here--like that fire up to the Little Salt Woods that almost burned down the whole town in '86--no one to this day knows what started the blaze. Hell, a year before that the element'ry school took fire and burned down. We're still sendin' the kiddies on to school in Buford. Still got the high school, though. Reckon that'll be there till Doomsday.
Oh, ayup, we got our share of bad apples, just like any other town. Henry Church, now there was a one. He lived up on the county road what runs past Jericho, farming rocks with his daddy on that mis'able three acres they had back in the sixties. Wanted to be a writer. Went off to try to make somethin' of hisself; come back a broke-down cripple. Found drowned in his car out there in the Obsecado 'bout, oh, seb'ney-nine, eighty, I think. Eh? Shot in the war? Mighta been. Heard he tried school for a while, but made a bad go of it. No great loss, him.
Peter Knowles. Yeah. He's one of our boys. You read his latest book, huh? Yeah. He made it. He done good. Ever' once in a while one pulls hisself out'n the muck and walks upright.
Yeah, Lemora's a right nice place. It's just...hard to explain. Sometimes you get the feeling you're right on top of something you don't quite comprehend. And sometimes you look at the sun and it's shinin' kinda...funny. Flat, almost. And sometimes it seems all the clocks in town are set to a twenty-fifth hour, one that exists outside a normal day's twenty-four.
Don't get me wrong. I like it here. I wouldn't want to live anywhere else. Yes, sir. It's quiet, that's what I like about it. Just as quiet and out-of-the-way a place as you'd like.
Postcards of the Hanging
North County Road 857
La Corneta del Juicio
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