There's a road not too far from the outskirts where things are prone to go wrong. Places like it exist all over the world, places where bad luck attaches itself like a leech on an open wound, places where police tape is scattered among broken hubcaps like confetti at a funeral.
I saw a map of all the accidents on a conspiracy site - apparently the town sits on top of a ley line and prospers as a result, absorbing positive energy while all the negative impact is directes all around it, forming a gigantic circle of misfortune. And we sit squarely at the centre of it all.
It's no wonder people rarely leave here. Half the time some road or other is closed due to an accident or a landslide or something the police don't think we need to know about. It's not like we haven't all seen a few strangely shaped footprints out by the woods or found a mutilated pile of fur and meat that might hopefully have been a dog.
I saw a map of all the accidents on a conspiracy site - apparently the town sits on top of a ley line and prospers as a result, absorbing positive energy while all the negative impact is directes all around it, forming a gigantic circle of misfortune. And we sit squarely at the centre of it all.
It's no wonder people rarely leave here. Half the time some road or other is closed due to an accident or a landslide or something the police don't think we need to know about. It's not like we haven't all seen a few strangely shaped footprints out by the woods or found a mutilated pile of fur and meat that might hopefully have been a dog.
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