Marissa Dike - Liams Town

Chapter 1

My name is Liam, and I used to live in a house without windows.

That meant two things: first, it was pitch-black inside when the lights werent on, and second, it was impossible to tell what the weather was like without going outside. I fixed the first problem by keeping a lamp that was always on by my bed, except at night when I went to sleep. The second problem was barely even a problem to begin with, since the weather where I lived was almost always sunny and warmeasy to predict. I had lived in the same town for as long as I could remember, with an old man who wasnt technically my grandfather but was the closest thing I had to a grandfather, so thats what I called him. He let me live with him for free, and in return, I helped him with his little shop downstairs. All the houses in our town were like thatthe top floor was for living in, and the bottom floor was for business. We never got that many customers in our store, and when they did come in, I always went upstairs. Grandfather took care of all the buying and selling, and I would always come down later when the store was closed to clean and organize everything. I dont really like people, to be honest, and Im not that great at talking to them, which is why I loved our townit was small and made it easy for me to keep to myself.

Grandfather and I werent very good at running the business. There were a lot of times, before Grandfather got sick, that he would leave the store closed all day, just because neither of us felt like working. We both had this bad habit of just living in the moment, ditching work just to follow our impulses. Sometimes we would walk around town, just the two of us, for hours. I loved walking around town. It was quiet but always busy. There were dozens and dozens of other shops lining the streets, always packed with customers, always open, probably making a lot more money than ours did. Eventually, Grandfather stopped coming with me on my walks around town, and then it was just me, alone with my thoughts, and it was the nicest feeling in the world. Grandfather and I liked to sell a little bit of everything in the store, unlike most of the other stores that sold specific kinds of items, and none of the things we had were all that valuable. Our shelves were stocked with old snow globes, broken Christmas ornaments, weird lawn gnomes, and puzzles that had already been opened and were more than likely missing pieces. It was stuff nobody wanted or needed, random things that Grandfather had gotten a good deal on at one point and thought we could sell for profit. We would talk about it sometimes, how our store needed to focus on selling one particular kind of product. Its confusing to people when they walk in and see shelves filled with random stuff, Id say. But Grandfather insisted that people like variety, and variety is the spice of life. Once, I think he might have actually said, Variety is the lice of spife, because Grandfather was getting senile in his old age.

Our store was a big open room in the very front of our house when you first walked in. In the back of the room, there was a short, narrow passageway that led to the kitchen and the stairwell. Up the stairs to the left, there was a large bedroom, where Grandfather slept, and next to that was the bathroom. My bedroom was on the other side of Grandfathers room. It was small, big enough for my bed and a dresser, and that was it. I didnt mind it though, since I spent so much of my time either downstairs or outside.

My morning routine was pretty simple: I would get dressed, brush my teeth, run a comb through my hair, and go downstairs for breakfast. I would always wake up early, so I would have plenty of time to hang out downstairs by myself before the store opened. One morning, I woke up, and it was pitch-black in my room, because the light bulb in my lamp had burned out, and I couldnt find my flashlight, and while I was looking for it, I tripped and landed on my bad leg.

Oh, I should probably mention: I have a limp. I broke my leg once, a long time ago, and it never healed right. Its not a big deal. Usually, I dont even notice it. But on that morning, I had to fight the urge not to scream and wake Grandfather. I sat motionless on the ground for a while, rocking back and forth, swearing as quietly as possible, until the pain dulled enough for me to gingerly stand up, fumble around in the dark until I finally found my flashlight, and start getting ready for the day.

I remember hurting my leg, because it was the same day that the lake started forming, and it was the day that everything started to change. Before that, everything is fuzzy. At the time, I was seventeen, and it was the very beginning of summer. I had been living in my house since I was little. I had a few scattered memories of my childhood, but they were all pretty vague, probably because when your life consists of basically the same things every day, you tend not to remember many of the specific details in it.

I dont want to get too far off track. I want to tell you my story, exactly how it happened to me, because honestly, from that day on, I remember almost everything, like a switch had suddenly been turned on in my brain that allowed me to make memories. I even remember the shirt I wore that day. It was my favorite T-shirt, blue and soft, and Jenny said it reminded her of the skybut I havent told you about Jenny yet. Ill get around to it eventually.

Getting downstairs every day is a pain in the ass when you have a bad leg. I had to basically step down each step with my good leg and then carefully drag my other leg behind me. When I finally got downstairs that morning, it was 8:45 am , and Grandfather liked to open the store at nine oclock. My leg was still throbbing from my accident, and I needed something to take the edge off. I glanced over the medicine shelf. There was a half-empty bottle of expired aspirin, which I figured was better than nothing, so I swallowed four and threw the rest away.

I limped over to the refrigerator to find something I could quickly eat before I retreated back to my room. I opened it to find that Grandfather had yet again failed to go shopping. Whatever. I wasnt hungry anyway. I decided to step outside for a breath of fresh air, and when I opened the door, a blast of rain hit me square in the face. Like I said before, when you live in a house without windows, you never have any idea what the weathers like outside. The sky was almost black, the wind was growing from an erratic whistle to a steady hum, and a clap of lightning made me jump almost out of my skin. So I slammed the door shut as fast as I could, and I remember thinking, There definitely wont be any customers today.

* * *

That storm was by far the worst one that I could ever remember coming through town. It never rained in town, so it was dry and dusty all the time, and there wasnt a green thing around until you got just outside town, where it would drizzle every so often, just enough to keep the grass and a few scrawny trees alive. There was one big tree too, my favorite tree, but Ill talk about it more later.

At noon, the rain still hadnt stopped, and I could hear Grandfathers footsteps coming down the stairs. When he saw me, he wished me good morning. It wasnt morning anymore, but I didnt say that. Instead, I said, Good morning, Grandfather.

Any customers? he asked me.

No, I replied, and there probably wont be any anytime soon. Take a look outside.

Grandfather shuffled toward the door and slowly cracked it open. The wind was stronger than it had been that morning, and it pulled the door open all the way and slammed it into the side of our building. It took both of us to get the door closed again. Less than ten seconds standing in the doorway was enough to drench us both. Grandfather looked at me, shocked, and he looked especially frail with his wisp of thin white hair plastered to his forehead and his glasses covered in raindrops. Go upstairs and change, Grandfather, I told him. Ill make sure the door stays closed.