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Ugh! I spat out a mouthful of grit not caring anymore if I offended anybody. That girl could have been a little
more helpful, I thought. What kind of place was this anyhow? Talk about weird. The sign on the exit ramp had
said Grgylville.
"Grgylville," I said aloud. An image of the green marker indicating the exit ramp for the town flashed through
my mind. Gargoyleville! That was the name of the place I was in. Was there such a thing as a gargoyle?
Can't be. That's just in the movies. I thought I had driven into the Amish countryside, but now I wasn't so sure.
All the other times I had passed through and stopped to visit, I was welcomed with open arms and even
given the tour of the farms. But wait. Despite the grainy storm I had walked into, I couldn't make out a farm or
a barn in any direction that I looked in.
Maybe I had taken a wrong turn off of Interstate 81. Maybe that was why the townsfolk were acting like it was
Freaksville? Maybe I really had no clue where I was? The questions gnawed at me and inside my own
abdominal area, I felt an unsettling wave of apprehension. I decided to take the warning from my sixth sense.
I definitely didn't want to spend the night here. Bracing myself against the hot wind, I hurried over to the
emporium to find Mary.
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