texas gothic

mccoyquialisms:

• every year, the bluebonnets appear, almost overnight. every year, thousands of people flock to them. it bothers you that no one really questions why.
• “how can I help y’all?” the waitress asks, looking over your shoulder. you are the only one in the diner.
• you’ve been driving towards el paso for hours, but you swear the scenery hasn’t changed. out on the horizon, the turbines have stopped spinning.
• y’all come back now, y’ hear? the sign on the highway says, its once-bright paint faded and peeling. this is not a farewell. it’s a warning.
• no one really swims in the lakes. ask anyone why, and they’ll mutter something about the cleanliness or the fish. they won’t meet your eyes.
• you haven’t seen a cicada in years, but their rattling hiss haunts your every step on hot summer days. at least, you hope it’s just the cicadas.
• there are no basements in north texas, despite the tornadoes. folks would rather face the wrath of the skies than what lies beneath the clay.