The House on Deer Creek Road: Part 6
The final horrors await you just inside the door…
Where The Lost Things Go
The circumstances involving those who wash ashore on Lost and Found Island are always mysterious and are never solved. I, for one, went to bed one night on a completely routine Wednesday and woke up sunburnt and salty on the sandy east shore of the island. I was found not long after by the other lost humans who inhabit the mysterious place. They came to the shore with goat-pulled trolley carts and filled them with the random debris that washed ashore. They collected the debris and took it, and me, to their village that was nestled in a grassy clearing. When the shock wore off, I spoke with them and learned that everything that gets lost in the world comes here to Lost and Found Island. This includes people.
Anxiety is the thing that’s ripped our country apart. It has divided us, caused us to fear and hate those who think and live differently than us, and even caused us to hate those who only slightly disagree with us. It has led to panic and overreaction. And I worry that American Anxiety is only going to exacerbate the social and political divide in this country to the point that there is no coming back.