Western Massachusetts gothic
There are graveyards everywhere. every time you go somewhere, a new one appears. the gravestones have been there for decades. you played hide and seek with your brother in a graveyard once. they have followed you ever since.
the forests are looming and cold. you walked in them once. the trees beckoned to you, insisted that you joined them. you never went in again.
the fields are vast and most of them never seem to grow anything, but the ones that do have glinting eyes in the corn. dont look back, because then it will know you saw it. you arent supposed to see it.
the vultures always circle overhead. what they are looking for, you dont know. every day they come, spiraling in the grey skies, waiting for a moment of weakness. they are hungry.
beware the river. it tries to pull you in. the water laps calmly at the docks, and you feel like dipping your feet in. but that's what the river wants. don't do it. nobody ever goes to the river at night. nobody who ever did so came back. its more powerful then, with the moon reflecting in its depths, drawing you ever nearer.
the deer run across the road at random times. you have never seen them get hit, and the dead one you saw on the side of the road certainly wasnt hit by a car.
the low mountains seem to change shapes every now and then, but you never see it. sometimes they call out to you, but you've learned to ignore it over the years.
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There needs to be an urban legend about The Boston Tunnel (some of you have got to know the one.)
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Appalachia in its entirety
Map of Appalachian subranges (I consider Appalachia to be anything in the Appalachian Mountains so; Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Maryland, West Virginia, Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee, North and South Carolina, Georgia, and Alabama)
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