Residents of the town take back their Thursday trek up the hill by putting on blindfolds. Now they cannot see commercial and political missives, but what else are they missing?
Stories for Blindfolds
Harvey “Greybeard” Kanz made what amounts to his first campaign speech on Friday. In what has become his signature understated way, Greybeard simply commented to a reporter, “Leonard Aberdashy is a clown.” The following day, The Beckinfield Times claimed to have compiled evidence that Mayor Aberdashy and the ubiquitous Shoelace the Clown are one and the same.
Neither Aberdashy nor Shoelace has been seen in public since.
The pace of the movement of the rubble at the Beckinfield Little Theatre has appeared to pick up. It seems the closer the mysterious self-generating structure comes to completion, the faster the rubble moves. Every day the structure grows a bit more, but it still has a long way to go. Now a construction crew has moved in and begun building a wall in front of the theater to block drivers on Highway 99 from seeing the rubble. Traffic on the highway has increased even more over the last few days from those hoping to get one last look before the new obstruction wall is completed.
Rose Banter has been drawing detailed plans in the mud on the banks of Hidden Star Lake. The army of paranormal investigators waits patiently as she designs each new phase so the investigators can implement her plans with precision. They take orders directly from Rose as they work on building the early stages of this large structure. The fiery redheaded scientist Dr. Kippart has been spotted looming in the area. No one is sure whether she is actually overseeing the operation or secretly spying on it.
The grounds of the “Carnival” Happening are now dominated with “Vote for Mayor Aberdashy” signs. In a show of unity this Thursday, all the usual Destiny Happening attendees put on blindfolds just as they arrived to the top of the crest. They were determined to “See no Aberdashy.” The day was extremely pleasant and jovial, as people made a game out of how quickly they could determine who they were talking to while blindfolded. After the alarms stopped sounding at 2:30 PM, everyone removed the blindfolds and headed back down the hill. No one patronized any of the vendors. For the first time in weeks, Shoelace the Clown was not on hand.
The basketball court that covers the large crescent-shaped fissure on the cornfield that once belonged to town founder Bradford Beckin has been packed with players since it reopened. It’s gotten so busy that a line forms each morning as players wait their turn to join the various games that happen simultaneously. The bleachers are jammed with pedestrians who vie for seats among the mass of black-suited scientists.