 |
| Shadows |
I have a story that's not very chilling, but the events were frightening when they took place. In early 2025, I moved from New York to Dobbs City, Texas, in order to attend college. I had previously enrolled at Dobbs Institute to work on my Bachelor of Science degree, majoring in agricultural science. My minor was in wildlife science. I hoped to be, one day, either an environmental specialist or, perhaps, a game warden.
During the fall of the year, before the start of school, I moved into a small two-bedroom house on Fuller Hall Street. The house was located about three blocks northwest of Dobbs Institute. The home was well-maintained by the landlord; it had a quaint charm, reminiscent of a countryside cottage. The rent was low, and all I was expected to do was keep the lawn mowed.
The first thing I did, after I had settled in, was head to a local retail store and pick up a few necessities. Namely, I bought a broom, a dustpan, and a mop. I also bought a few groceries. Finally, I purchased a stringed "weed eater" and an affordable manual lawn mower.
I found a job at the local chemical plant. I was assigned to the section that makes fertilizer. It was a part-time job, and many Dobbs' students were employed there. As I understand it, many long-time employees and supervisors got their degrees at Dobbs Institute. I later became aware that the company often hired students and the business made sure that students who were employed at the site would not be expected to work during school hours. I'm not sure how this arrangement came to be, but it remains so to this very day.
My house (or rented house) was empty in every way. There was no furniture of any type. There were no beds, tables, lamps, or even pictures on the walls. The place had been stripped of everything that brought life to a home. I had to redecorate, and I had to buy some furniture. I had a bed, a desk, dishes, and a few other things, but I lacked many things. I didn't even have anything to sit on, other than my office chair.
See Part 2 here.
Or:
See more fiction here.
© 2024-2025 Lonestar Hobby Blog
