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Message: <blockquote data-quote="peaches" data-source="post: 1966098" data-attributes="member: 232236">sinks like a stone in water? [T stands for the town's name, which is fabricated because I couldn't find the perfect place in the States for the later scenario. This is the introduction to a trilogy. I need to envision a perfect, poor, small town]HONEST CRITICISM ENCOURAGED. thanks <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" />T is a small town. T, meaning you should shield your eyes when the wind starts collaborating with dust. And they do get a lot of dust, mainly because of the proximity and quantity of roads pulsating around the town like adrenaline-laced jugulars. Ironically, T is such a poor place they choose walking as their main mean of transportation. But the town itself is basically four times the size of a large trailer camp.Not many new houses, two restaurants, plenty of gas stations and bars. The bars have arcades, to allow working fathers to bond with their children where they can observe their highest scores from where they’re sitting, guzzling discounted beer prior to dinner time. The elementary school is near. The closest high school is an hour’s worth of walk; thirty minutes of jog north down the busy road. There is little interest in college edification. The heart of T is a collection of RVs, Class A and B motor homes, Luton bodies, truck campers and static caravans, Datsuns with teardrop trailers, and hybrids. Men in their forties already receiving pension, disabled and big families are on welfare. The phrases like Good Sam Club and slide-toppers are hackneyed and everyday. When the sun reaches the pinnacle of its height people sunbathe like lizards on warm tombstones. Down on rocking benches and white-plastic garden chairs, they socialize with the neighbors while getting a tan. Men rub their brows hunched over the day’s mailbox material, women grab their chests while reading tacky romance novels; young boys practice reading on spaghetti westerns. The smell of poverty is strongest in the morning; mildew, bacon and cheap cigarettes muddle up with gasoline, paint thinner and aerosol. The general mentality is that of coma patients making peace with their fate. Life is good. At least the husbands are employed, the state provides for the needy, the children are healthy, the neighbors are good people and there’s nothing wrong with the weather. No major cities are this positive. Then again, T never had Jackie S teaching the vampire minority politics, or highly intelligent mind readers taking over MENSA. T never was the hot spot of an equal rights movement, and there were no costly boarding schools for exceptional youngsters preferring its scarce landscape over the shores of New England or the Connecticut Appalachians. In New York City nobody even cares looking outside the window to admire the pristine blue sky. They’re far too busy having headaches and eating disorders to enjoy the simplicity of sun in the morning. ...That's it. Did you like it? You get ten points, naturally. I'm no cheapskate. We all want to earn those easy points <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" />)Sorry if the 'T's throwing you off. I have a really good name, I'm kinda hesitating to reveal it before the book's published and sitting in front of me <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f600.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":D" title="Big grin    :D"  data-smilie="8"data-shortname=":D" /> Oh, it's a plain name, anyways. Think what you like. It can be the small town of Tentacles, if you like.</blockquote>

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