Well that's not very helpful, Ally thought to herself as she looked out into the barren landscape. As she got lost in her gaze again, she realized why her mom had said that; there wasn't a landmark or anything to really give them a point of reference. As it turns out, most of their drive would be that way, at least until they made it to Fort Worth, and even then they would still have another day of driving.
Most of the trip went by in a blur as Ally passed most of it between dreams and other unconscious meanderings. The little time she did spend awake Ally felt something ominous, as if a dark force were waiting slowly crawling toward her from outside the car windows. Texas sure has a lot of cemeteries. She recalled her younger years when at five or six she would look out the window and mistake graveyards back home for soccer fields. All the tributes of daisies, roses, and family mementos filled the otherwise empty fields with so much vibrant color. Here it was different though, or had she just changed? In Texas one can't escape a small town (and there are many) without passing at least one cemetery that seems to hold more than twice the place's population underground, and most of the flowers are noticeably absent.
If it wasn't eerie cemeteries out Ally's window, it an unusually large flock of dark crows or ravens. What's the difference anyway? They're both greasy birds that look like they just left an oil spill. Though many towns back in colorful Colorado were probably just as small as the ones here in the persistently dull state of Texas, something about them just made them seem quaint. Perhaps it was that they boasted of the number of feet they had climbed above sea level, while the tiny Texas towns stood tall like a fist grader who just triumphed over his classmates in a spelling bee only to have his gaze drawn quickly to his upcoming competition from grades two through five. The signs outside these towns with names like Hollis, Cut and Shoot, and Dime Box do their best to stand tall, but it's hard to do so when your claim to fame is little more than reaching a couple hundred on the population chart.
"I wonder who gets to do that?" Ally's brother asked half sarcastically as they drove through yet another small town.
"What's that Trevor?"
"Who changes the number everyday?"
"What number?" Ally's mother asked.
"The number on the sign. WELCOME TO DING DONG. POP-EW-LATE...SHHHON 4 hundred and fifty." Trevor replied, trying his best not to laugh while sounding out the words.
"Ding Dong! That sure is a funny name!" the whole family (minus Ally who was lost in thought) laughed. "I don't know Buddy, but that's a good question. I bet whatever 'ding dong' has to do it is a pretty popular guy." their dad retorted.
Trevor laughed again, "yeah, that's a lot of persons."
"Indeed it is son."
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