“At that point it was about three in the morning, July 12^th” I said. Gregory O’Malley’s pub was the place to be nowadays on Friday nights, considering the blistering heat wave that was covering Cliffsville. Being the only place with a decent air conditioner at the moment, It was heaven on earth.

            “Yeah but what time did you finish it?” asked Tilly.

            “About noon during the daytime” I replied. I had been working on a painting for a year, perhaps more. One of my biggest aspirations was to become a famous artist. The painting was still drying at the moment in my room. My place was the second floor of Mrs. Simmon’s house, on the right side.

            The place seemed like a dilapidated piece of junk when I first laid my eyes on it, way back when I first moved here. It was basically the only place that was free here, and after three years of living there, I personally fixed most of its problems. To pay for my work I didn’t have to pay any rent. Pretty good deal it was, and it was an easy job.

            “Oh! Can you show me?” she asked.

            I was overjoyed and scared to death at the same time.

            “Uh, yeah, I, Sure!” I said.

            “Great! I’ll come around eight okay?” she said

            “Um yeah! That’d be, great”

            She left the place really quickly. Considering it was only three o’ clock, I wondered what she was going to do until eight with no air conditioning.

            The reason nobody had any air conditioning at the moment was because the delivery truck that was shipping the dozens of pieces that all of our townsfolk ordered had an accident on one of the mountainside cliff roads. The new ones were supposed to come in a week, and until then, it was all about Gregory O’Malley’s pub.

            “Got yerself a date eh?” Gregory said.

            Gregory was the type that would make a huge deal about a little meeting of any boy and girl, and was also a drunkard.

            “Ah back when I was a lad…”

            “Shut up, nobody wants to hear” Billy butted in.

            It was fortunate that Billy was here to tell him to shut up, because I was not the type of person that could tell Gregory to stop talking.  Gregory was a middle aged man, and was an drunken Irish bartender (with too many stories) if there ever was one. There were two more people at the bar at that time, Melody Jenkins, a middle aged woman, and Leroy Stimpack (A lumberjack with mammoth sized muscles)

            The air outside was humid as ever as I went outside. It was seven, and I just had dinner at the pub. I was going to head home and wait for Tilly at that point. The walk home was only ten minutes.

                        The life I was living was quiet, and had always been, quiet. My parents lived in another mountain town called Silvervalley (named for its silver deposits). I was, back then that is, a very timid person. Easily overwhelmed by excitement, and terrified of large amounts of people. It was a lonely life back then.

            I headed into the house. Mrs Simmons told me that Tilly was already upstairs.

            “She really likes you, Christopher, maybe it’d be nice if you’d consider her as a wife” she said

            This comment made me feel uncomfortable. I was getting annoyed at everyone for acting like my parents, recommending every female within my age range as a soul mate. I went upstairs, and showed less enthusiasm than usual when she greeted me.

            “I didn’t look yet, I was waiting for you to do it!” she said

            “Sure thing” I said

            I tore down the curtain that was hanging from the ceiling beam. Her reaction to it was incredible.

            “WOW!” she squealed, hugging me, and kept exclaiming on the detail. The painting was of a roman centurion on his horse, with Gaul war bands and legionaries. It was rather good I must say.

            “Well, yeah I guess I’ll head out to sell it tomorrow” I said

            “Very good! You should get a good amount for it! Oh how bout we…”

            “Right. Now, if you don’t mind, I want to get some rest for tomorrow” I said.

            She seemed a bit upset about something. I had a feeling I knew what it was, but I hoped that it wasn’t that. I was exhausted.

            “Seriously, its been a long day. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            She finally left.

            The following morning, at the very late hour of four o’ clock in the morning, I rose out of bed, prepared, and was on the road at five. I reached the city at ten, and headed to the local museum.

            The museum was pretty small, but it was devoted to historical paintings, so I thought I had a fairly good chance. There was no other place that would buy a painting that I knew of, so I would take whatever they offered me here.

            I was speaking to the founder of the museum, since he is an acquaintance of mine, and he offered me a decent figure. I nodded my head, and like that, my painting was bought. As I left, with cash in hand, I had to find a way to use it all in a very wasteful manner. I headed to the local pub first, “John’s place” first.

It was a very straightforward place. You would pay the bartender for every drink, no matter how many, and peanuts cost a lot. It was pretty lame, considering the people barely even talked. Everyone either stared at the floor in between their feet, or watched the little TV in the corner that had the news on.

 I didn’t spend much time there, and was heading for the hotel very quickly. I decided to save the money in my bank account, so before I slept, I deposited my money, doubling my account value.

The next day, when I returned back home, I found a letter in my mailbox. It was quite possibly the most important letter I had ever received in my life.

Dear Christopher,

It’s Sheila (your sister if you’ve forgotten) uncle Ron was murdered. We don’t know who did it, but that person also murdered dad too. The police are investigating. If you’d come to the funeral, it’d be a lot easier for us. The funeral is in two weeks, so please come.

Love, Sheila.

I hadn’t received a letter from anyone in my family since three years ago, making sure they had my address and phone number. I didn’t even go home for Christmas.

“Christopher! There you are. Are you okay?” she asked

“Huh? Oh you again, Hi there.”

“You’re crying, are your okay?” she asked again

“Oh I um, I’m not exactly crying”

I really wasn’t. It was just a coincidence that some dust has come blowing just as I was finishing the letter.

“Its okay, let me comfort you” she said.

Now if I were in the right mood, that could have meant many things. I wasn’t in the mood for anything though.

“Thanks Tilly, I appreciate it but I want to be alone okay?”

“Oh, whatever you say, just let me know if you need me” she said

“Yeah I’ll let you know”

She walked away, looking back every ten steps. I know its sweet when someone cares that much, but it can be annoying as hell too. I re-read the letter, and chucked it away. I knew what I had to do.

“So, when are you leaving?” Gregory asked, the previous day.

“Three weeks or so, it shouldn’t be too long” I said.

I lied, in fact, I would never be returning to that dismal place. I didn’t know it at that point though.

“Tilly will be disappointed…” he said

“Its okay, she can marry you instead” I replied. Gregory turned red, and I just learned a piece of information that was both disturbing and wrong, and I smiled and left. Fortunately, I avoided all of the other people of the town on my way out. I left for the airport in nearby Springpalm city. My plane would take me from the west coast of America back to the east coast, where I was born.

When I reached the city, I realized that this was my wake up call. I knew precisely what I wanted in life when I stepped my foot out of my car - to never return to Cliffsville. I sold the rights of my house at the bank, and sold my car for half its worth in cash on the street. When I was on the plane, with my clothes and money in the luggage, I knew that it was the best decision I’d ever make. I was, of course, right.