The man in the drab trench coat walks along the empty road, sniffing at the air. He stops, licks his finger and sticks it up, testing for a breeze that isn’t there.

Shaking his head in disappointment, he pulls out a black notebook from his jacket pocket. Clicking his pen, he starts to jot down notes.

“Callis Cutoff,” he says aloud as he scribbles on the paper. “Site of multi-generational fear. Mostly unfounded, but there have been a few resonant events that have accelerated the decay.”

A wild howl cuts through the trees, snapping his head up. He listens for a moment longer before returning to his notebook.

“Concern a few unwelcomes might have already slipped through the veil. Will double check the area.”

Tapping on what seems to be nothing, but the air around his finger shimmers and vibrates for yards in all directions.

“We’ll have to send in a team to shore up the reality buttresses, make sure everything’s brought back up to code. Otherwise, we could be looking at a total esoteric collapse of this whole area.”

He snaps the notebook shut and slips it back into his pocket.

“And that, would be a paperwork nightmare.”

Memphis Note
The Callis Cutoff is an undeveloped side street near the intersection of Germantown Road and Winchester that has developed a reputation for being one of the scariest places in Memphis. Sort of like a suburban Voodoo Village. Sadly, those urban legends became reality when Lorenzen Wright, a beloved former professional athlete, was found murdered there.

Jake and his cousin watched the cars and trucks roll by from an open bay of his uncle’s garage. They were sitting on a pile of tires, drinking warm cokes, trying to avoid doing anything productive.

“Ever think about where that road goes? Where those people go?” Jake asked.

Chugging the last of the soda from the can, his cousin gave half interested shrug in reply

“Out past the Starbucks and the liquor stores and the KFCs and all that crap, there’s an open road. And if you go far enough down that road, if you’re patient enough, you’ll hit the ocean.” Jake took a swig of his coke and licked his lips “I’ve never see the ocean.”

He looked over and his cousin was staring at him like he’d lost his mind.

“That’s Lamar, dummy. Ain’t a Starbucks on it. And if you’re fool enough to drive that far, the only place you’ll end up is Birmingham. Which ain’t anywhere near the ocean.”

His cousin crushed his empty coke can against his head, then got up to get another one.

“Maybe not, but it’s closer than here,” Jake said, when he was sure his cousin was out of earshot.

Memphis Note
It’s true, there are no Starbucks on Lamar. Which I think might make it the only road in America without one. And unfortunately, it won’t get you to the ocean. But, if you follow the signs in Birmingham, it’ll take you to another road that will.