Autumn was a spectacular sight in the small town of Reminiscence. The leaves on the maples, oaks, sycamores, and poplars were a riot of warm colors: gold, orange, red, pink, some edged in tan or brown. Some of the leaves were already falling, though not enough that the rakes had come out of the garages and storage sheds, yet. Days were shorter than one would expect, the mountains and the broad space that was the town upon the river forming a cup that encouraged early nights and false dawns that faded back into the chill dark of morning.
This particular Friday afternoon was heavy with the sweet smell of turning leaves and the last of the summer wildflowers. Sounds of construction echoed through one of the eastern neighborhoods as work continued on the theatre. A few blocks away, the hotel, lovingly restored from the remains of the old highschool, was relatively busy as people gathered there to see the foliage and in preparation for the car show that would be occurring in the park that coming weekend.
A bus squeaked up to the corner near the park, doors opening to allow a few school children off at their stop; they were back from their day in the neighboring town and loaded down with books and backpacks. Similar things were happening in other neighborhoods: people walking dogs, listening to music, and getting in that last hand detailed car wash before the fall rains and winter snows.
Much of the town, except what was directly along the small river, was on one of the mountain's gentle, time worn slopes, and in a few places, children would soon be racing down the hills on roller blades and bikes. Where the town was actually flat, an old railway wove through, subtly mocking the curve of the river. An occasional coal train rolled through, thundering and bellowing and destroying the calm of the lovely little place for a moment or two before relenting and passing on to the next town over.
A few clouds gathered high in the sky and a flock of birds rose to fly across the faded blue. Along Main Street , a few apartments (mostly renovated houses that had been added on to), the town's gas station and restaurant, and the post office spread out. One large building, which had once been the company store, was closed for the time being. Rumor was, it would open in the spring as a small shopping center for local crafters. A small second hand store stood across Main Street from the theatre building, appearing to be almost an afterthought. Other notable buildings on Main Street were the post office and a small doctor's office. The volunteer fire department sat up the hill a bit, it's building looking cobbled together, as if it had been built around the firetrucks.
Roads that led to the town were slightly worn, twisting affairs, dotted here and there with signs advising caution: deer or fallen rocks or ice or slippery when wet. Towering trees grew along the road that would be Main Street in town. Along some stretches of this roadway, chestnuts and buckeyes lie squashed from tires of passing cars. Coming into town from either side, drivers were greeted with a cheerful sign: Welcome to Reminiscence, the Town You Come Home To.
As the afternoon slipped into evening, a faded sunset gave way to clear, deep blue skies, studded with stars. No doubt, tomorrow would be just as lovely as today; weather forecasts called for mostly sunny with a slight breeze.
Streetlamps came on as businesses closed up for the day. Construction projects were abandoned for the weekend, and people went about enjoying their Friday night, many in bed early for once. The car show would have classic car enthusiasts from around the continent coming in to show or gaze at vehicles. Local crafters would also have small stands, selling their wares, and the town's restaurant was to be operating a vendor booth, as well.
As the town settled down to sleep, some of those new to Reminiscence, whether by a few years or a few days, would find their dreams jarringly bright. The scenes would make sense at the time, but be all but forgotten upon waking. All that would remain would be a few disjointed images of hallways, classrooms, or waiting rooms... and the strange feeling that something dreamed about was not an illusion of sleep, rather a memory. If only they could recall just what part. And why.
The sun rose over the mountain, greeting the town. It was time. Time to get ready, to go. The entire town was going to turn out. Opportunity. Chance. Perhaps even adventure or a way to meet those who might provide friendship. A feeling hung on the air, shimmered like the dew on the grass. Something was different today. Something important. Something.... forgotten.