Hunched over in his kitchen chair, Avon stares blankly into the computer screen with his fingers lingering over the keyboard, not a single key falling to the tip of his finger. The sun just rising over the treeline in his backyard, Avon remains hidden by a cold emptiness, one devoid of sunlight or warmth. His eyes remaining wide open, Avon continues to stare into the screen, the only light coming over him resonating from the harsh white tones from the screen before him.
In his head, the prior night’s events continue to play on a never-ending loop, haunting his every thought by bleeding itself into each positive vibe he throws his own way. The thud from atop his doorstep the night prior, the screeching tires of the van speeding off into the error of evening, the featherlight finger left for him as a welcoming gift to the town all flashing before him.
“I’m off” Penny calls out, tossing a case of makeup into her bag whilst stopped in the middle of the living room, the front door only a mere few feet away from being within the palm of her hand. Looking back toward her husband, Penny finds him still fixated on the computer screen, her call for his attention never having been processed by his brain. “Avon?” Penny calls out to yet another failure to respond, his stare remaining unchanged, prompting her to walk over.
“Avon?” Penny calls out again, leaning forward as if she couldn’t get a better view otherwise, her hand placing itself atop the screen, shaking the picture just enough to get the man’s attention. “Avon!” Penny calls out for a third time, watching the man jolt out of his prior position and shake off the exhaustion, brushing the instance aside as nothing more than sleep depravity.
“Are you alright?” Penny asks, watching her husband pull the bottom of his hands to his eyes and rub the crust from beneath his lids. “Yeah, I’m fine honey” Avon responds, clearing his throat as he pushes himself out of his chair, continuing to act as if everything were normal. “Have a lovely first day” Avon continues, his arms wrapping themselves around his wife’s shoulders, hands rubbing the middle of her back as Penny reluctantly returns the gesture.
With a peck on the cheek, Avon allows Penny to pull away, walking her to the door as they continue their conversation as if the confusing event had never taken place. “I’ll be back around six, alright?” Penny concludes, offering her husband a peck on the lips before walking through the front door, the heavy metal divider between the inside and out slowly closes behind her, Avon’s hands gently guiding the door back to its space within its frame.
With a deep breath, Avon puffs his chest out, allowing it to settle back to its original position as the air within his lungs empties, returning to the space he had taken it from. Head aimed toward the ground, Avon picks his chin up and returns to his seat, arms placed on the rests to each of his sides before he looks into the picture that returns to him, puzzled at what he finds awaiting.
Confused, Avon assumes himself to be staring at the wrong page, clicking around with his mouse to find his original word document to no avail. Eyes squinted, Avon’s confusion remains ever-present, his finger dragging the mouse back to the original tab he started on before scrolling up. Of the near-eight pages he’s written, the most recent six of them contain an onslaught of illegible writings, just numbers and symbols plastered onto what would be a piece of paper.
With a nod, Avon accepts the findings to have been an accident having occurred in a blank train of thought, every character of text highlighted in a light shade of blue before vanishing from the screen with the simple click of a key. With a nod, Avon returns to his original writings, unable to progress any further upon finding it difficult to recall where he was originally intending to go with his words.
Considering his options, Avon leans back in his chair, feeling the need to create space between himself and his keyboard before glancing out at the view in his backyard. The neighborhood is one of quiet peace, the sights that are afforded to Avon exist as no different, woodlands as far as the eye’s sight can reach awaiting his appreciation, a gentle breeze rolling through the leaves.
Beginning to bear the fruits of an ascending day, the woodlands give Avon a moment of introspection he needs to clear his mind of the clutter overwhelming it. Allowing his breathing to steady, Avon emerges through his back door and rests his arms against the bannister of his patio, glasses worn over his face so he can actually see the views from afar.
The size of his yard creating a great distance between his patio and the start of the treeline, Avon has a heavy distance between the view and himself. Almost as a metaphor, Avon starts at a far distance with his place in the creation of his book, the yard representing the long distance he has left to venture before the accomplishment of peace on the other end.
Lifting one hand and balling his fingers into a fist, Avon rests his chin against the knuckles beneath it, staring off at the sights with a smile before his expression inexplicably sours into a frown. Uncertain at first, Avon leans in to get a better view, still not able to accomplish the clarity he needs to see the sight through. Head shaking, Avon turns to the short staircase and steps onto the freshly-cut grass, walking for the start of the forest before halting mid-step.
Eyes widened again, just as they had been before, Avon stands in the middle of his backyard looking out at the treeline in horror. Beneath the ascending morning sun, a figure cloaked in all-black garb and a smiling face mask stands in the corner of the treeline, hands to each side, just looking back at the man before it. “Who-” Avon says to himself, frozen in fear, unable to move without being prompted to, waiting for the figure to make the first move.
Without warning, said figure lifts its left hand to its face, unfurling its fingers until only the index remains upwards, pressing against the mouth of its mask. Unprovoked, the figure quickly turns away from the man and dashes into the depths of the forest, a prompt that calls Avon into action, the writer hurrying after the man in hopes of getting answers for the night prior.
Fear having eluded him, all Avon runs on is a mixture of adrenaline and curiosity, hoping to stop the man before he hurts his wife or himself, and needing to receive a reason for the events of the prior night. Stopping at the start of the treeline, Avon stares into the covering of trees to find nothing, not a trace of the man having given him a fair warning despite the sunlight leaving no inch of the ground ahead of him without illumination.
Catching his breath, Avon stands in the place he stopped, head turning toward one side before darting to the other, astonished at the ease the figure had in vanishing before his very eyes.
= Remedy Hills is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and his entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 1 onwards =
“You’re new” a woman’s soft voice cries from behind Penny as her locker slams shut, prompting the woman to turn toward the source. “I am!” Penny replies enthusiastically, shaking the hand of the scarlet-haired woman behind her. “Anne Silva” the woman introduces herself as, wrist peeking out from beneath the long, cotton sleeve of her undershirt, “it’s not often we see new faces in Remedy.”
“Yeah, my husband clued me in on that pretty quickly” Penny chirps, the woman’s head tilting nearer toward her shoulder. “What does he do?” Anne asks, watching Penny’s expression briefly shift toward confusion, “your husband, what does he work as?” Eyes wide, Penny’s mind drifts toward the truth she’d never had to conceal before, though her instincts push her toward an alternative direction before a sound can leave her cherry-red lips.
“He’s an… entrepreneur” Penny responds, clarifying the latter-most word upon its recitation from Anne’s lips. “What is he the entrepreneur of?” Anne questions, watching Penny’s hands lift into the air before throwing themselves aside, brushing off the question as unimportant. “He doesn’t really tell me much about his work” Penny replies, Anne’s head bobbing along with every word she utters, “he’s someone that likes to draw a fine line between work and relationship.”
“Okay… Yeah, that’s a healthy choice to make!” Anne responds, finding sense in the response, “I think I might actually envy you a little bit!” Humored, Penny attempts to raise a question of her own to the woman before the pager on her hip begins to ring. “Duty calls” Anne exclaims, Penny shrugging her shoulders before tossing on a doctor’s coat, “I’ll see you around!” With a smile, Penny accepts the half-offer, flashing the woman a smile before heading off into the opposite direction.
Rubber soles of her shoes tapping along the marble floors, Penny intends to advance her day forward, the ‘first day of work’ jitters settling over time, learning the layout of the hospital she wanders the halls of taking precedence over most else. “Doctor?” a strange voice beckons from behind, Penny hearing the single term flutter through the airways and grab her attention like a moth to a porchlight.
“Hi” Penny replies, keeping her profile low, greeting the man with enough forwardness to afford him the comfort of being able to proceed with his line of inquiry. “Are you the new doctor my wife was telling me about?” the man asks, Penny assuring him of the accuracy in his statement, a grin being offered as a symbolic gesture. In a swift turn of events, the man takes a slushie from behind his back and throws it over Penny’s jacket, forcing security to restrain him immediately.
“Tell your husband this city isn’t his personal play-thing for inspiration!” the man shouts with his finger pointed toward Penny, hands pulled behind his back as he’s led by the neck toward the front exit. Both astonished and in shock, Penny glances down at her coat to find it stained red from the man’s drink, muttering to herself the hopes that such an image isn’t a sign of things to come.
“What was that?” a doctor asks, approaching the woman with a towel in his hand, Penny assuring him that it was an encounter she was warned would be semi-commonplace. “Dr. Kitts” the man introduces himself, returning to the front desk to collect a few additional towels before being waved off. “This isn’t coming out without a wash” Penny exclaims, pulling at the material in her hands to give herself a better view, “I appreciate the effort, though.”
“I’m so sorry for this” Clark explains, “I swear, you’d think people would be smart enough to not piss off the people that might have to save their lives one day, but I guess we’d all be wrong.” Earning a laugh from the woman, Clark cuts himself off before he can get too chatty, cutting the introduction down to a welcome and handshake. “Thank you for the help again” Penny responds, the man walking back the way he came with a nod, “it was my pleasure” he replies with grace.
“How might I be of assistance?” Beth calls out upon the ringing of the entrance’s bells without looking up, finding a newly-familiar face greeting her. Entering the library with his hands in his pockets, Avon escapes the winter-like chill beginning to come over the town in favor of Beth’s warm welcome, surprised to find the man walking in so soon after he walked out.
“Salutations” Avon says with a smirk, hiding the paranoid and cold exterior in favor of a less-daunting approach, taking the seat still left beside Beth’s desk from the night before. “Greetings, author… To what do I owe the pleasure?” Beth asks, starting a pot of coffee from the machine just beside her desk. “A sleepless night courtesy of that coffee you gave me last evening” Avon says with a hum, earning nothing more than a shrug.
“I don’t think you’re Remedy material if you can’t handle nighttime coffee” the woman responds, the machine off to her side just now starting to fill the pot. With a smile, Avon folds his hands over his lap and pulls one leg over the other, accepting Beth’s opinion. “I’ve got a lot to learn” Avon concludes, Beth refusing to consider such a claim as anything but true.
“So what can I do you for?” Beth continues, allowing the direction of the conversation to rest in the hands of Avon, the floor left with an empty space for him to occupy. “What was Remedy Hills like before the urban legend?” Avon inquires, the worn look on the woman suggesting the answer to be complicated. “Remedy was just like any other small town that got famous overnight” Beth replies, “just ordinary people going about their day. Nothing overly notable.”
With a nod, Avon continues, his eyes roaming through the large interior of the building Beth remains the only consistent inhabitant of. “Who owns this place?” Avon asks, the woman wearing a smile of pride prior to her answer. “I do… My name is on the property lease and anything else required to keep this operating” Beth responds, her voice taking on a more prideful tone than the one of eagerness she had prior.
“My dad passed a few years ago and left me all of this in his will” Beth continues, the machine behind her spurting out the final few drops of the warm, french vanilla brew, “it wasn’t always a library.” Reaching back, Beth takes the handle to the pot in her hand, feeling the warmth radiating off of the plastic handle and onto the palm of her hand, perhaps the only thing making the winter worth bearing through as far as she’s concerned.
“This building used to be an old tavern. He knocked all the walls down” Beth continues, “when he passed it to me, I’d taken my rather large collection of books and brought them here… Soon other people did the same with the books they no longer wanted or needed.” Pressing his hand to his chin, Avon listens in with intrigue, the woman continuing her life story with a captivated audience.
“I know libraries are usually things that cities make to consider themselves beneficial, but I don’t really care for all that jabber” Beth explains, pouring herself the first coffee, “people can come here for the conversation more than the books… But at least they actually want to come here.” Watching the beverage trickle over the curved edge in Beth’s coffee pot, Avon interjects a question in between the woman’s storytelling.
“Why’d you tell me only the elderly and middle schoolers came around every once in a while?” Avon asks, watching the woman cover the pot with it’s attached lid with a smirk. “I didn’t want you to think visiting the town’s resident librarian was a thing to put on the daily to-do list” Beth replies, “but seeing as you’ve now come here two days in a row looking for a story, I figured it’d do no damage.”
His teeth showing, Avon remains quiet, Beth noticing this expression and asking about it. “What’re you all smiling over?” Beth wonders aloud, watching the man’s lip part with confidence, every word he utters carrying the obvious weight of truth behind it. “I didn’t come here for a story” Avon responds, removing a notebook from the satchel over his shoulder and tossing it onto the top of Beth’s desk, “this is a ‘I wanna get to know the people I’m living with’ visit.”
“Is this an invitation to read?” Beth asks, Avon leaning back in his chair, hands folded together and gliding back, offering a cushion for his head to rest against. “If you wish it to be” Avon replies, the woman nodding at the man’s suggestion, slowly reaching out in a sign of goodwill before pulling the notepad into her hands. “Then I guess I’m down to my last two wishes” Beth responds, crossing one leg over the other and letting the booklet fall onto her lap.
With an easy glide, Beth flips open the front cover and reads the text that rests just beyond the cover, her eyes holding an excitement to read words put together in sentences she’s never followed before. Satisfied, Beth closes the notebook and returns it to Avon, his hands lifting into the air to reject her advances. “I want you to hold onto that until I leave” Avon replies, “I want you to know, beyond any doubt, that this conversation is as I have said it is.”
Her smile now growing, Beth slowly guides her hand back to her side, placing the notebook upon one of her desk’s shelves. “Where were we?” Beth asks, Avon’s smile matching the wide-berth of her own, invested in the conversation enough to lift his mug to his lips with glee.
Fist tapping against the front door of the King residence, Jake awaits Avon’s answer whilst Beau leans against the cruiser, watching on with a smirk. “I wonder if he skipped town already” Beau mocks, Jake looking back at the man, reminding him of how illogical it would be for Avon to have played a part in this mystery. “Why? The guy buys a house he can afford not to live in and settles in a town no one with his wealth would even point to on a map” Beau responds, “he’s guilty.”
Shaking his head, Jake turns back to the door, his knuckles taking to the metal exterior in hopes for a response, Beau having to break the news to him that the man isn’t coming to answer. With a sigh, Jake turns away from the door and removes his phone from his pocket, looking toward Beau, the man having walked away from the cruiser with intentions set on investigating the property.
“We can’t look through his home without a warrant, Beau” Jake calls out, dialing Avon’s phone number as his partner acknowledges their legal obligations. “I don’t need a warrant to just have a look around” Beau replies, hands draped over his belt as he looks around the edge of the home, Jake remaining patiently standing on the front steps awaiting an answer from the other line.
As Jake leaves a message for Avon’s voicemail, Beau continues to walk around the edge of the house, his body shaded from the house next door, allowing him an unobstructed view. Shaking his head at the empty flower bed, Beau glances off into the distance before looking back at the home, only to return his eyes to the treeline ahead, taking interest in the sights he’s captured out of the corner of his eye.
Fingers becoming untucked from his belt, Beau’s hands move to the grip of his firearm, not yet ready to pull his weapon on whatever he finds staring back at him. “Jack!” Beau calls out, his voice not loud enough to catch the attention of what he finds standing in the distance, the man hanging up his phone and returning to Beau’s side. “You find something, kid?” Jake asks, rounding the corner to find Beau with his weapon ready to be pulled, staring off at the trees.
“Do you see that?” Beau asks, Jake approaching his side and staring out at what glances back at him in the distance, a figure draped in black with a plastic smiley face mask. “Let’s flank him” Beau says, cautiously moving forward with his gun now removed from his belt, Jake creating distance between the two, his gun newly drawn as well. “Police! Step forward with your hands up!” Beau calls, nearly halfway into the backyard, still uncertain as to whether or not he’s speaking to a person.
“I’ll repeat, we’re police!” Beau shouts, “come forward with your hands where we can see them now!” The figure remaining without movement, Jake recites the same warning as offered by Beau, hoping the target they approach is nothing more than a poorly-dressed scarecrow. “I’m gonna say this one more-” Beau begins, his tension lowering as he begins to recite his call for the third time, stopping himself mid-sentence the moment the figure surprisingly turns around and takes off running.
“Call in re-enforcement!” Beau shouts, he and Jake both running into the woods with the weapons to their side, breaking into a stride as they keep the figure constantly within their sights. As seconds turn into a few minutes, the figure continues to run at the same pace as it had burst into the moment it’d taken off. In the same breath, Beau begins to slow himself, energy depleting and the ability to move forward at the same pace he has vanishing.
Seconds later, despite the refusal to give up, Beau collapses into the dirt, the calls of his name from his partner a great distance away are unable to come within hearing distance. Struggling to catch his breath, Beau grunts as he climbs to his knees, staring out at the depths of the woodlands where the figure had escaped to, internally beating himself for having allowed the masked watcher to escape.
“How did it all happen?” Avon asks, hands folded beneath his chin as the daylight has long faded into night, the streets lighting up with the storefront displays while the pair within the confines of the library pay it no mind. “It happened just like it’s always been told” Beth responds, her hand tucking the loose hairs in front of her face behind her ears, “a kid went missing in the middle of the night and was found in pieces on the backroads the morning after.”
“I know that part, I’m talking about the legend… How did it start?” Avon replies,watching Beth lift her feet from the floor and place them beneath each other, sitting cross legged in her old-school wooden chair. “They never found the killer, which pretty much made it impossible to avoid anything other than being reminded that we’d never have closure” Beth responds, “I was only twelve, but I remember hearing about the phantom at recess from a few of my friends.”
“So you don’t know where it originated?” Avon inquires, the woman disappointingly shaking her head in refusal, admitting that she wished she had. “Everyone that cares about this town wants to protect it… Keep it from being trifled on by people looking to turn a tragedy into a sad ghost story” Beth explains, “but for whatever reason, an asshat slipped through the cracks and made people like you a target more than anything else.”
With a deep breath, Avon nods at the notion, a gesture that Beth takes notice of, apologizing for her wording. “It’s all going to get better over time, just look at it as growing pains” Beth explains, the man flashing her a smile to assure her that he’s fine, though hiding how much worry runs through his mind over the idea. “Tell me about the phantom” Avon quickly quips, “why, of all things to call what was responsible for this, did people settle on a phantom?”
With a shrug, Beth admits that the reasoning has never been something that people cared to look into. “I don’t think it matters much… There’s no phantom roaming the streets of Remedy Hills...” Beth explains, her head tilting down, fingers twirling amongst themselves as she pauses, words evading her as Avon observes. The woman slightly overcome with emotion, Avon reaches a hand onto hers, watching her face light up with an apologetic smile as her eyes latch onto his.
“Have you ever admitted to yourself how that statement ends?” Avon inquires, the woman looking back at him with her head shaking in refusal. “I’m twenty-five now, so it’s been thirteen years of my life spent thinking about that day… Over and over again” Beth says, a single tear she doesn’t care to wipe away falling from her eye, “never once have I finished that sentence.”
Stricken with grief, Avon leaves his seat and walks around the desk, Beth leaving her seat as well to accept the hug the man gives her, emotions bringing the pair to a similar page. “When you want to finish that sentence, I’ll be happy to be there for you when you do” Avon promises, the woman unable to hold back the smile that forms on her face. “I wish the writers that came here were as nice as you” Beth mutters, the man patting Beth on the back as the embrace ends.
Returning to his seat, Avon begins his final line of dialogue, Beth downing the rest of the beverage in her drink before throwing another load of grounds in to brew. “There are some people that say this town doesn’t play by the laws of nature” Avon explains, watching Beth’s face go red with embarrassment, “what do you make of all that?”
Opening her mouth to speak, Beth breaks out into laughter, her head hanging low as her hand covers her mouth, Avon confused as to what is happening. “I mean… They’re not wrong” Beth responds, putting a look of surprise on Avon’s face, the man having been pulled in with intrigue. “So you’re sold on there being no such thing as the ‘Remedy Phantom’, but you’re also convinced Remedy is pretty much a world of its own?” Avon inquires, becoming lost the longer he speaks.
“Some things just happen that shouldn’t” Beth replies, looking through the scattered halls that her brain has historically been described as, searching for the perfect example. Suddenly, as if a bolt of lightning had just struck the street outside, Beth pops into action with her response. “A few days ago, the bells over the door rang and I called out to someone coming in” Beth explains, Avon leaning forward as if he were listening to a ghost story.
“When I looked up, there was no one there, and the bells hadn’t moved an inch” Beth concludes, Avon looking on with skepticism. “There is no draft, those bells swing for a long time after they’re hit, and that’s never happened before” Beth explains, “you can call me paranoid or delusional all you wish, but that shouldn’t have happened and yet, here we are.”
“Are you sure you didn’t-” Avon begins, Beth immediately cutting him off. “Imagine it? No, it happened” Beth responds, “it may be one of many stupid reasons to believe in something so strange, but it’s a reason that I buy.” With a chuckle, Avon admits defeat, giving Beth the point and finishing the coffee left in his mug. Graciously accepting his notebook being returned to his possession, Avon prepares to leave before thinking twice, still reeling from the weight Beth carries on her shoulders.
Quickly opening his notebook, Avon tears a single page from within and pulls a pen out of his pocket, his name and phone number being jotted down in dark blue ink. “I can tell you still have some fear in your mind- regardless of how old you are now- that you’d still be the next one to be found like that” Avon says, “so while I’m only thirty-four myself, therefor not creepy enough for this to be odd, I still want you to have this on you.”
Extending his hand, Avon gives the woman his phone number and home address, promising to be there in the event she needs him to be. “Small town, everyone knows each other, I get that there are people you’re probably better off going to than me” Avon accepts, “but I made you a promise, and now I have no excuse to not go through with it.” With a full heart, Beth walks up to Avon again, pulling him for another hug, and thanking him for caring.
Having left the library and driven the short ride home, Avon takes the final turn onto his quiet, residential street to find a surprising sight, one that he takes grave concern with. Parked outside of his home, a flurry of police cruisers flash their red and blue lights throughout a neighborhood filled with concerned fellow residents. Short of his driveway, Avon puts the car in park and quickly exits his vehicle, racing to the scene where his wife stands, watching the events unfold.
“What’s going on!?” Avon calls out, his wife having to hold him back from dashing into the house, telling him that they have a warrant to search the property. “On what probable grounds!?” Avon shouts back, enraged, Beau calling out to the man from afar with the answer he was looking for.
“For whatever the fuck we want it to be” Beau shouts back, watching Avon look toward him in anger, “we may not have much to go off of, but the judge doesn’t like writers very much.” Walking away from his wife, Avon marches toward Beau with an angry expression, prepared to exceed being just confrontational. “Put your hands on me and I’ll take you in on assault charges” Beau warns, Avon stopping short of getting physical, instead, staring Beau down.
“What exactly is it that you think I did, but that you don’t have the balls to come out and say?” Avon inquires, challenging the man to outright admit what his motives are. “You know exactly what I think you did” Beau replies, Jake being forced to order Beau to stand down and walk away, his efforts coming up fruitless. “You’ve got blinders on, cop” Avon responds, leaning forward to keep himself close to the man, “you want me to be guilty… Well, sorry to burst your bubble.”
“My bubble’s intact, dude” Beau replies, refusing to give up ground, instead inching his face closer to Avon’s, “but I promise you this… I’m gonna bring you down for murder, don’t you forget that.” Shoving his partner away, Jake turns back to Avon, asking the man where he was earlier in the day. “I was at the library the entire day” Avon responds, “Beth Ovorre will tell you the same thing I am… I was down there the whole day asking about Remedy and her life.”
With a nod, Jake turns toward a third officer to put in a request, Avon stopping him before the tires can kick too far, asking what Beau meant when he called him over. “Failing to cooperate with authorities, what is he talking about?” Avon clarifies, Jake recalling the events that allowed all of this to transpire, asking Avon if he owns a smiley face mask. “No, I don’t own a-” Avon replies, looking riddled with fear for the moment he pauses before finishing his statement.
“No” Avon responds, Jake’s face falling as he pleads with Avon to be honest with him. “If there’s something going on, my department can protect you” Jake promises, “but in order to do that, you need to tell me the whole story, Mr. King.” Looking the man in his eyes, Avon forgets about the neighborhood-bathing lights and his wife’s trembling hand grabbing at his arm, answering the question as it’s recited by Jake.
“No, I don’t own a smiley face mask” Avon responds, watching Jake pause for a moment in hopes of getting more, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath before nodding seconds later. “Okay” Jake replies, “we’ll be done with all of this soon.”
“What was that?” Penny asks, Avon watching Jake walk off, Beau still mean-mugging him from afar. “The young cop thinks I killed that truck driver” Avon responds, “and whilst the older one doesn’t think I did it, he thinks someone’s coming after me.” Looking toward her husband with surprise, Penny asks the man to clarify his prior statement, worrying that she heard him correctly.
“We’re not wanted in this town, likely for good reason, honey” Avon replies, turning to his right to look his wife in the eyes, “but we’re not going to let them run us out.” Returning his gaze to the officers, Avon watches Jake climb into the driver’s seat before Beau looks back at him, stepping into the seat with his eyes on Avon, a anger-infused thousand-yard stare being given to the town’s newest resident before he takes his place, slamming his door shut with authority.
== Remedy Hills ==