Craig, NE a short story

By the webmaster

Disclaimer-Any relation to real people or places are coincidences. This is not based on a true story, and should not be taken as such.

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It was 11 am in Craig Nebraska, and I saw Jerry driving throughout town, the yellow light on his car standing out against the cloudy, rainy morning. The moment that yellow light bled in through my curtains, a familiar stone fell into my stomach, the same stone that fell every time I saw that horrible yellow light. Though it was heavier, almost poisoned this morning. See, I knew what that meant, but the plumber I called this morning didnt.

Craig is a small village, if you could even call it that, outside of Omaha Nebraska. It contains a couple crowded blocks of houses and a church, and then miles and miles of Nothing. There are farms and their owners in the Nothing, but it still is just that. Nothing. Ive lived here for as long as I can remember, though I have this recurring dream that takes place somewhere safe. Not many people agree on what words to use to describe Craig, but we can all agree that safe is not one of them.

Growing up, Jerrys dad was the driver of that God awful car. I still remember my parents faces every time he drove through town. Their hurried whispers that consumed our house, rough pushes into our basement. And my cries the day they decided they were tired of my complaints, and that I was old enough to see why. That sight changed my future forever.

The thing you learn about life living in Craig is that each emotion has its opposite right along with it. With beauty there is ugly, joy with pain. Terror with happiness.

That morning, my mother had been calling non-stop, asking for updates about the plumber. I had told her two nights ago that my floor was flooding. The truth is, is that it had been flooding for months, my floor was at a constant state of mushyand I now had unwelcome roommates of the creepy and crawly variety joining me in my home. I had planned on repairing it myself, but that was when The Light would show once every six months or so… not once a week. Once I finally got around to looking at it, the water had done so much damage that I knew I would do more harm than good if I tried to fix it. I decided that one more awful thing in this awful place wouldnt do much damage to my already breaking psyche. It worked out well for me until my mother kept begging me to FaceTime.

See, my mother moved out of Craig years ago when my father died. She said she couldnt bear to see The Light, and what follows, after what it had done to my father. Craig had never been a good place to live, but when she still lived here, it wasnt as dangerous as it is now. Once The Light started being seen more often, I stopped caring about myself, and the house began to show it. All the houses in this village followed the same pattern. Its incredible what a few bad years can do to such a small group of people and their surroundings. Before my mother left, you wouldnt be able to tell something is off if you were just driving through, unless you picked the wrong time of course. But now, even from the inside it looks depressing. I cant imagine what it looks like from the outside looking in. That being said, its not often that we have outsiders, and even rarer that they leave unharmed.

I was hoping that day would be one of those rare days.