Welcome to Hell
Cypher Lx
When we lit the fires, we had no idea how severe the
repercussions would be. It was part of the "Rejuvenation" plan for
our little mining town. The landfill was an eyesore and the town officials
arranged for the fire department to set controlled fires while new refuse was
shipped to a larger dump away from our piece of the American dream.
Despite the warnings offered by the fire chief, the council
insisted. The dried leaves that fell from the autumn trees settled amongst the
heaps of old furniture, plastic trash bags, and fermented food stuffs that had
become readily combustible. Not long after, the dream became a nightmare as the
pit fire ignited an exposed coal vein, triggering a rapid chain of events.
The "controlled" fires spread into the mines
following the anthracite load, feeding hungrily and creating deep crevices
beneath the surface of our town. Streets buckled and cracked. Black and yellow
smoke filled the air as ashes drifted down like gray snow. Sinkholes formed,
releasing sulfur gases and condemning the structural integrity of many homes.
We reinforced the buildings with brick framework braced against the exterior
walls and attempted to make repairs to the asphalt and concrete. This was our
town and we refused to let it die.
Fissures in the ground appeared faster than we could fill
them and after a month, the earth itself began to groan. The fire that now
lived underneath released something more horrifying than the toxins the state
government claimed we were subjected to. They crawled out from the cracks and
holes, flesh as ashen as what coated our homes and eyes as black as the
anthracite that lay burning within the mines. More frightening were their
bodies. They resembled miners that had met their deaths since the operation
began, loved ones that had passed on years before, and even some figures that
were represented in historical photographs. Ghosts of the past.
Their hunger was as voracious as the flames that ignited
their existence. Overnight, the creatures devoured nearly every resident of the
town, save a handful. One-thousand four-hundred and twenty-three souls
consumed, nothing left but a finger bone or a tooth in the place the person had
been captured surrounded by a small pile of smoldering embers. Witnessing the
act was terrifyingly beautiful as the wisps of smoke engulfed its victim and
dragged the body to the gaping maw of the creature that controlled it. With a
touch from a withered hand, the person transformed into a screaming charcoal
briquette before being inhaled bit by burning bit.
Appetites sated, the demons left only six of us alive,
crawling back into the ground. But it wasn’t without a cost to our own souls.
We were bound to our town with our vow of loyalty and with it the creatures
that came from beneath. The government attempted to make us evacuate, not
knowing what had truly occurred before they arrived to quarantine the area.
Assuming the others had relocated, our town was essentially wiped from
existence. Our postal code was repealed and we were taken off of every known modern
map. When GPS was created, our coordinates were deleted. But still, we live
here, all but forgotten.
Many travelers and seekers of curiosities manage to find our
little town, whether by accident or actively researching obscure records. They
leave their mark with graffiti on the broken highway along the smoking cracks,
oblivious to the evil that lives beneath their feet. Perhaps they can sense it.
Often, references in the street art reflect this. In large white capital
letters on the asphalt, “Welcome to Hell”. Some will find us keeping our
streets clean and mowing our lawns. Over five-hundred houses were demolished
since the incident, leaving only four, the church and a few business fronts.
But we still have pride in the place we call home. Most of our visitors come
during October, looking for a thrill before Halloween, wondering if the urban
legends are true, hoping to see ghosts. We welcome them and tell them the
stories of days gone by and the glory of what the town once was.
For fifty years the fires have burned. The ash has ceased
falling, but smoke still seeps from the fissures and sinkholes, covering the
ground like an unholy fog. And each year during the autumn months, the
creatures clamber up from their resting place in the smoldering coal and
sulfur. We wait for them, ready with their food supply. We are the gatekeepers
of Hell.
Author’s Note: In 1962, the fire department in the town of
Centralia, PA lit the landfill on fire to “tidy up” for the Memorial Day
celebration. A coal vein caught fire and quickly ignited the mines. The fires
have been burning ever since. It is believed by some that the fire is now
traveling toward Ashland. There are five residents in Centralia and they are
still fighting in court to keep their homes which were “officially” taken under
eminent domain. They claim that there is no longer any fire or toxin hazard,
accusing the government of trying to steal millions of dollars in mineral
rights. Many people still visit the burning town out of curiosity even though
Route 61 is no longer a functioning highway and Centralia is considered
non-existent by state officials.
An interesting story about a town with a haunted past. The scariest kinds of stories are the ones that are true. Now I want to know what really happened! Well done!
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