A Town Called Evesbury is a story written by a user named xXPhantomFangWolfXx. It’s about a man who wakes up one morning and notices that everyone else seems to be ignoring him.
Adam awoke with a start. That was definitely the strangest dream he had ever had. It had just seemed so normal at first, working on his laptopin the basement. Pretty typical for a dream, really. But then all of a sudden there was this flash, and all these screams, and then he smelled something completely strange. The next thing he remembered was everything fading to black.
Glancing around, he noticed that he was, in fact, at his computer desk in the basement. The mouse was still loosely held in his right hand, and a now-chilly cup of coffee was present just inches from his left. He blinked sleepily, and let his eyes wander towards the computer screen. It was black.
He waved the mouse. The screen flickered back on. Checking the computer clock, he noted that the time was just past nine thirty in the morning. There was no doubt about it. He had dozed off while working late. The last time he was checked the clock it had been just after midnight.
Yawning and stretching out in his comfortable gray sweatpants and yellow t-shirt, he closed the top of his computer and stood up. Folding his elbows in to his chest, he made a few quick turns to the left and right, receiving a few cracks as he adjusted his achy spine.
Finally ready, he trotted up the old, wooden basement stairs, he walked out of the door and into the kitchen, thinking he might find his wife, Sheryl, and their son, Tyler there for breakfast. However, it was quickly apparent that the room was devoid of any life besides their cat, Poppy, who was asleep on the windowsill, bathing in the sunlight. Adam smiled at the small gray cat.
â€œSheryl and Tyler must still be asleep. They do have a right to, it is Saturday,â€ he thought. â€œI guess Iâ€™ll just go for a short walk, then, and when I get back, we can all eat breakfast as a family. Oh, maybe Iâ€™ll even stop by the market for some pastries. Thatâ€™d be a nice treatâ€¦â€
Adamâ€™s thoughts trailed off into the things he might possibly buy. Finally, after a good two minutes of thinking to himself, he grabbed his wallet and phone, and went outside. Smiling, he stepped down the stone walkway in front of the house, past the hammock, past the driveway, and finally past their little red mailbox supported on a stone column. He breathed in deeply as he began to step down the sidewalk, enjoying the cool morning air. But something was funny.
He paused, sniffing. Yes, something was definitely off. The air was cool and crisp enough, the slight damp of the dew hanging in it, but there was just a hint of an odor in it. The odor was pleasant by no means, but not entirely awful either. It was sharp and chemical, and a little bit musty. The mustiness vaguely resembled the stench of meat rotting.
With a jolt, he recognized it as the smell from his dream. It was very faint, but unquestionably the same. This confused him for a moment, before he realized that this wasnâ€™t entirely out of the ordinary. A draft of the smell must have just wafted in of the breeze to the basement, and influenced his dream while he slept. Heâ€™d heard of that happening.
Satisfied with his conclusion, he resumed his walk at a brisker pace, wanted the stroll completed before his family awoke, so as to surprise them with a special breakfast. On his way to the market, he passed the occasional walker, and saw the occasional car, but they were rather few. Most people were probably still sleeping in, or doing something at home. Enjoying their Saturday. The few walkers he passed didnâ€™t pay any attention to him, and didnâ€™t even respond to his casual, â€œGood morning.â€
â€œThatâ€™s a bit rudeâ€¦â€ he mused. â€œOh well, theyâ€™re probably just a bit tired, or maybe lost in thought. Canâ€™t hold that against them.â€
Finally the store he had been looking for came into view.
â€œEVESBURY TOWN MARKETPLACE,â€ the bright red letters on the front of it said.
Walking inside the automatic doors and grabbing a basket, Adam quickly began to search for the items he needed.
â€œAlright, eggs, we need more eggsâ€¦ Oh, here are the pastries. Letâ€™s see, a corn muffin for Cheryl, a blueberry muffin for me, and oh! Tyler just loves these little chocolate croissants! Okay, I still need milk and bread, and I may as well get pancake batter for tomorrowâ€¦â€
In ten minutes, he had collected everything he needed. Walking up to the checkout counter, he waited in line to be serviced. The young man behind the counter finally finished up with the young couple in front of him, and called out a tired, â€œMay I help the next person in line?â€
Adam stepped into place, and was just about to place his items on the belt, when the elderly woman who was behind him stepped in front of him and began her purchase. The guy behind the counter made no protest, and began scanning the items as they rolled down the belt.
â€œE-excuse me!â€ Adam snapped, flustered. â€œI was ahead of you in line!â€
The elderly woman made no response, not even looking up from her work.
Still no response.
Adam turned to the man behind the counter.
â€œHey! I was ahead of her! Didnâ€™t you even see me? It was my turn! Hello?!?â€
The man did not respond either, nor did her look up, exactly as the old woman had done.
â€œOh, this is an outrage!” he shouted, angrily. “Iâ€™m going to straight to your boss to complain! I will not be treated this way! Iâ€™ll have your job for this!â€
Still fuming, Adam took his bag to the self-checkout aisle and made his purchase there. He stormed home, walking faster in his anger, much quicker then when he had come. Fortunately, by the time he reached his house, his anger had subsided enough for him to sport a half-grin and calmly stride in the door.
His wife was in the kitchen, bent over the stove, quietly frying eggs. Tyler was sitting at the kitchen table, an empty, sky-blue plate in front of him as he slouched in the wooden chair, playing his DS. Adam set the groceries down on the table.
â€œMorning, honey. Sorry for not leaving a note, I was out for a walk to get some groceries. You know, the service at that market is terrible. Why, one man there just…â€ he trailed off. Cheryl wasnâ€™t responding.
â€œOh, NO! Not you, too!â€ he moaned. â€œEveryone this day has been ignoring me! What am I, invisible?!?â€
He went to place a hand on her shoulder, to get her attention. His hand sank right through her like she was nothing more than mist. Adam screamed.
â€œWHAT- WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING? WHATâ€™S GOING ON HERE?!?â€
In a panic, he leaned over to Tyler, moving to touch the top of his head. His hand sank through him, too, and it felt as though there were nothing there but a mass of oh-so-slightly chillier air. Adam leaned back against the table for support. He was breathing so hard he could barely see straight, and darkness edged the corners of his vision. There was only one explanation for this. He was DEAD.
Heâ€™d read about it in all kinds of ghost story books, and now it was happening to him. No, no! He couldnâ€™t be dead, it wasnâ€™t possible! This was all just part of a dream. Yes, just a dream! And if this was a dream, all heâ€™d have to do was wake up.
Lunging forward, he snatched up one of the knives they kept next to the stove. In one swift motion, he dragged it across his palm, creating a gash of bright crimson across his pale skin. He yelped, but welcomed the pain he knew he needed to wake up. Shaking away the shock of the wound he had just inflicted, he placed a hand on the back of his wife. It still went right through. It wasnâ€™t a dream.
No. He still wasnâ€™t ready to believe he was dead. He needed proof. Racing into the basement, he booted up his computer. Thereâ€™d be something online if he was dead, wouldnâ€™t there? Of course there would. He googled his name. No results came up. None that had anything to do with him, anyway. He still needed to be sure. Wanting a double-check, he googled his townâ€™s name and suddenly froze. Right at the top, there was a news article.
â€œTRADEGY IN EVESBURY TOWN – In an unanticipated act of terrorism, an unknown group has dropped a gas bomb on the small town of Evesbury. The population of the town is estimated at around 43,000. It is believed that the entire population has perished, but authorities are giving the gas twenty-four hours to clear, and then will begin the search for survivors. More information to be posted at a later date.â€
Adam leaned back, chuckling. So that was what the funny small had been. That was why he was knocked out. This explained everything. His chuckle built to a laugh, and the laugh grew deeper. He wasnâ€™t dead. And that was the horrible thing. He had survived. He was in the basement and so heâ€™d survived. Maybe he was the only one who had.
His belly laugh finally erupted into a massive roar of laughter. He was right. He wasnâ€™t dead. EVERYONE ELSE was dead! His wife, his child, all his friends! ALL DEAD! Adam fell out of the chair, and curled into a tiny ball on the cold stone floor, laughing uncontrollably. He had snapped. He was breaking down, the irony was so funny.
HE WAS ALIVE! HE WAS ALIVE AND THEY WERE DEAD! ALL DEAD!
And while he laughed, harder than he had ever laughed before, up above, in his house, in his neighborâ€™s houses, all through the town, his friends and loved ones were there. Eating and cooking and playing and watching TV, and they were all dead, every last one.
And they didnâ€™t even know it.