Off to the witch.
Blair-witch woods fade into black to one side of the sidewalk. After 10 feet, the light from the row of fluorescent street lamps barely hits the bases of slender trunks. Ten feet farther, the woods become dense and featureless.
In that expanse, the distant roar of a motorcycle sounded more animal than machine.
Opposite the woods, uniform, numbered houses sit on plots of close cut grass. Occasional lamps can be seen behind windows. But most of the buildings, split into multiple apartments, sit in darkness. The one-story structures look more like barracks than any apartment complex would ever allow. They don’t attempt much beyond function.
The barracks, surrounding woods, and abrupt clearings make the area look like a low-key military compound. Very little of the hum of the day persists into the night.
All that said, this place is electric with charm. There’s no place I’d rather be, and the stars are particularly bright tonight.
P.S. I live here for a while: