Statement from the Mayor’s Desk

I’ve lived here my whole life. My father before me, and his before him. Folks here work hard, keep to themselves, and look out for each other. It’s not the kind of place where stories get away from you. At least, it didn’t used to be.
For the last few months, I’ve been hearing… reports. They started as small things — a trucker seeing strange lights over the highway, a couple of kids swearing they spotted something floating above the ridge.
But the calls keep coming.
I’ve had farmers, shopkeepers, schoolteachers — people I’ve known since I was a boy — sit across from me in my office, and tell me things I don’t know how to write down in the town record.
Things that don’t make sense.
Things I can’t explain away with weather patterns or aircraft traffic.

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My job is to keep this town steady. That means not letting rumours turn into panic.
I’ve told folks it’s nothing to worry about. That we’ve seen strange things before, and they’ve always had explanations in the end.
But when I get home at night, I replay their words. The pauses. The way some of them can’t quite finish their sentences.
It’s not just what they’re saying. It’s how they’re saying it.

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I drove out to the old grain fields last week after another call came in. The road was empty, the sky clear. I didn’t see anything, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the air was… different, like the whole town was holding its breath.
I’ll keep telling folks to go about their business. That’s what a Mayor’s supposed to do.
But between you and me — if these things keep happening, there’s going to come a day when I can’t keep pretending I don’t believe them.
And I’m not sure what’s worse — the thought that they’re all wrong, or the thought that they’re not.

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- by Town Mayor