The town of Mirrorvale is nestled in the mountains along a highway that runs into a tunnel through a mountain. The population sign by the courthouse reads 2386.
It was a quiet sort of place. Not without its issues, plagued by the economic decline and increase in loneliness and drug use common to many small towns, but overall a pleasant enough place which was mostly getting by. In older days, Mirrorvale hosted a mine, a quarry, and a timber mill, but these days all that remained were the tourist spots and campgrounds. The whole of the city relied on traffic from passers through and from tourists who had come to enjoy the wilderness without having to go too far from civilization. The teenagers of Mirrorvale would have drinking parties in the cabins in the nearby woods in off-seasons when there were no tourists, but the police tended to overlook it as long as they behaved themselves well enough.
It was a foggy and grey morning in December when every living thing in Mirrorvale suddenly awoke all at once. There was a cold chill in the air that permenated the town from border to border.
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.07 seconds at 10:05am on Nov 24, 2024 via server WEBX1.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
