pueblo de pesadillas.

ramira reyes. xxviii. author.

[pcsadillas]

MAKE YOUR MUSE.

tagged by :  literally none of you, but as such–all of you. tagging :  anyone left !! i’m late to the game.

[glassbonespaperskin]

[pcsadillas]

ramira & blythe, blythelandry.

“Why do you thing a karaoke bar inside a taxi is a bad idea?” Blythe asked, seeing the potential issues with the idea but wanting to hear it from the other woman. It seemed as though she had an experience with this. Things like this were really the only reason why Blythe liked talking with the newcomers. She got to see what it was like to live outside of this town through their experiences. They always were able to bring a sense of excitement when they first got to Boot Hill. It was later on in their stay that Blythe liked to stay away. When the questions started flowing and the accusation started coming. “Work? What do you do?” She asked, genuinely interested. “Try wearing this uniform here.” Blythe chuckled. “I typically have to change my undershirt four times a days because of how hot it gets here. A little tip for your stay, always carry a change of clothes in your bag. And I mean an extra of everything. You’ll sweat in places you never thought you could actually sweat in here.” A smile creeped upon her face, actually getting along with the woman. Of course she had better things to be doing with her day, but part of her job was to make sure the newcomers were settling in okay. “They mostly are. But it also has a way of supplying exactly what you need at the time.” She started walking in the direction of the shops. “Company I can do, but please, call me Blythe.” 

“because you haven’t heard my friend anjelica sing thank u, next after her latest breakup and ten jaeger bombs,” ramira laughs, wondering how long it has been since she’s even texted anjelica before forgetting easily that she’s even been missing her. somehow the town, no matter how creepy it was on occasion, made her feel so comfortable that it was almost easy to forget the pressures of her old life as well as the good things too. “oh, i’m a writer.” she flashes the deputy a winning smile. it’s a symbol of perfection that her mother instilled upon her--sincere, but just a little dreamy in an affected sort of way. she’s charming, sure, but ramira’s smile is nearly as award winning as her writing. she keeps it lowkey though. though she doubted that a southwestern small town was full of her target demographic ( her publisher’s words, not hers ), she still wanted to have a normal experience in the town without people fearing she was documenting their daily business. “not like about the town or anything,” she clarifies. “i write horror or thrillers. i just needed to find a quiet place to finish my book.” she leaves out the part where she’d finally cracked beneath the porcelain surface of perfection her parents had always demanded of her and she was trying to figure out who she was again. some things were too heavy for strangers. “yeah, polyester seems like the worst kind of material for y’all. doesn’t keep the heat or cold out.” quirking her brow, at the comment, she laughs. “wow, how very needful things of them. do they specialize in cursed items, or is that just local flavor?” too bad it’d already been done, the idea wasn’t half bad. offering a hand, she smiles again. “of course. nice to meet you, i’m ramira.”

[pcsadillas]

ramira & chris, justchristhanks.

Chris did laugh now. The girl had a lot of spunk. “I’m pretty sure that getting in a truck makes it worse.” Chris opened the passenger door of her truck and offered her a hand to help her into the truck. “But I like to think Boot hill is mostly safe. I’m Chris by the way.”

“you might be right there,” ramira laughed, reaching to pull herself up into the truck. “i don’t know, i’ve always thought small towns had the worst secrets, but maybe i’ve just watched too much tv.” at least in the city, the scary things seemed to always be in the open. “ramira. and thanks for the ride. is there anywhere in midtown you think would make for a good lunch?”

[pcsadillas]

ramira & chris, justchristhanks.

Chris absolutely didn’t laugh. She thought about it, but she didn’t actually do it. She thinks that should earn her some sort of points. But Chris had spent much of her time either living or passing through small towns. She was used to not having things like uber, or having it and living so far away from everything that using it was too expensive. But she also wasn’t heartless so she motioned to her old truck.

 “Yeah, I can take you.” She offered with a friendly smile. “Though I feel like woman to woman I should say, getting in a car with a stranger isn’t technically safer than walking around by yourself.”

“yeah, well--would a woman who wanted to hurt me really play the whole reverse psychology angle after i already asked her for a ride?” ramira joked, smiling gratefully as she headed towards the woman’s vehicle. “besides, i’m not getting into a car with a stranger.” she spoke with mock seriousness, smile breaking through before she continued. “i’m getting into a truck with a stranger. big difference.” besides, this woman looked neither like the stepford type nor the freebasing type. ramira figured if anyone in town was a safe bet, she was probably it. “besides, if you murder me before i get to my destination, you’re out a free lunch from yours truly.”

[pcsadillas]

ramira & shepherd, sheparson.

Shepherd blinked and he blinked again, doing his best to not look quite as dazed as he felt. The last time that he’d been hit with such an endless rant had been when his sister attended university, calling home within the first twenty-four hours to complain about everything from her professors to the poor carpet choice of her dorm room. At least this time around, he could actually relate – it was shitty that there was no Uber. With the near-constant sun overhead and dust being kicked up everywhere he walked, Shepherd missed the convenience of the Chicago “L” and bus. “What happened to your car?” He asked, undeniably late to pose the question when it felt like the woman had already jumped three subjects ahead. “If you’re up for pizza,” he continued, patting down his pockets to retrieve his keys, “I don’t mind driving you over there.” Shep was no mechanic, but he was positive that there was some logical reason that it was better to drive his car a little bit anyway, rather than leaving it unmoved outside the Copper Cactus. Something about the battery, maybe. Letting his shoulders roll, Shepherd nodded in the direction of his vehicle while turning. “Heebie-jeebies, huh?” He echoed, attempting his best impression of someone who was only teasing and totally not fishing for details.

maybe it was asinine of her to be asking for a ride like a hitchhiker in some stupid hallmark movie about some big city woman whose life is upended for the better when she comes to some small town, but wasn’t that slightly true? she was the big shot author who’d made big mistakes back in new york and thought that somehow they could all be solved by running away to a place where everything moves at a slower pace. still, even with her dead laptop charger, she had been able to write. hell, she was writing was more in the holly boarding house than she had been in her condo in the city with all of those distractions. the car was just a temporary distraction in its own right and she’d get it fixed and then she could get back to her writing. “i wish i knew.” she threw her hands up in the air with a resigned chuckle. “maybe i should’ve taken an automotive class instead of intro to russian literature, because i can write an essay on dead souls, but i can’t begin to guess why the prius i rented won’t start.” smiling at the offer of pizza, ramira laughed. “i mean, i wouldn’t call whatever they have here pizza, but i’ll buy you a slice if it means i can get a ride.” she followed him with an easy smile, but kept her hand on the mace in her purse just in case. her mother would flip if she knew she was accepting a ride from some guy, but that’s what you did in small towns, wasn’t it? and, anyway, her mother had decided to have a child with a married man, so it’s not like she was the queen of good judgment or anything. more than that, it wasn’t like ramira had much of a choice either unless she wanted blisters on her heels and pit stains on a dry clean only blouse from a long walk in the desert sun. “yeah, you don’t get that vibe here?”

[pcsadillas]

ramira & edward, cyclusion.

❛  I FIND IT RATHER QUAINT,  ❜  Ed says, their accent thick, the honesty in their voice almost something to behold, a rare innocence blossoming across their features. In their voyage across America so far, they’ve grown used to the deprivations of much they’ve taken for granted, their general absence making their presence—in the few times that they did appear in this road trip—much more appreciated. Besides, they’re rather much liking the whole experience: they loved that feeling of being uncertain and lost, stuck in an endless sea of desert with no connectivity to what seemed almost like the real world. While Boot Hill was most certainly real, it (and the other small towns before it that they’d stopped over at) had a timeless quality that made it almost feel removed from the usual laws of time and space. (Not that Ed was a physicist, but they were sure time moved slower in small towns—or perhaps that was just people, no longer in a hurry because there’s nothing to worry about.) Still, interactions like this always made them feel crashing back down to reality: Apple Stores, Ubers… these were the hallmarks of the modern life they’d spent so long avoiding in their road trip.  ❛  Well, I can’t help you out on the ride thing  ❜ — arms spread wide as if to indicate that they, too, were just as grounded as she was — ❛  but I’ve a spare charger you could borrow? It’s in my room at the Bonnet, though, so we’ve to take a little detour—but it’s still in the box so it’s brand new and shouldn’t cause any problems.  ❜  Despite the cool confidence in their words, they punctuate their remark with a shrug, as if it’s not so certain after all.  ❛  If you want, I can walk you to the repair shop and then we can go pick up the spare charger? I’ve had my car break down too, so I might as well check up on the old thing.  ❜

“quaint,” ramira repeats, mulling the word over in her mouth as if selecting the notes of a pinot noir. she smiles at them--a rare accent among a symphony of cowboys that sound like they’ve gotten cotton stuffed in their cheeks whenever they speak. “i think you’re right. it is quaint. that’s part of the allure of it.” that and all of the stories she’d read online. horror had really found itself a new kind of medium in subreddits and creepypastas; it was just good business to be aware of it all. half drunk with eyeliner circles under her eyes after another night of boring parties where she felt alone even among friends, ramira had devoured every piece of information the internet had to offer of boot hill. she’d almost given up entirely on even finding the place until she somehow stumbled across the highway as if being beckoned to sleepy hollow by the headless horseman himself. it only added to the town’s allure--the perfect place to write. “damn,” her brows knitted together in exasperation and she shook her head as they gestured to their own situation--just as marooned as she was--but her eyes lit up at their offer. “you’re kidding me !” that was too kind an offer, but too good of one to pass up. “you can’t mean it; won’t that put you out?” there was no way this stranger was willing to just give away something so precious and useful. “honestly, i’d love that. i didn’t really pack any good walking shoes and i feel like i’ll be completely screwed if i go alone in these.” clicking her steven madden booties together like dorothy, she offered a sheepish smile. she’d packed in a hurry and it hadn’t all been practical; the choice to follow boot hill had been impulsive and she hadn’t planned for walking--just for writing. “if you’re sure i’m not going to be putting you out.”

[fashionfever]

[pcsadillas]

ramira & orion, hartorion.

Her eyebrows inched up, waiting for the explanation as to why she wouldn’t trek across town on foot. As though Orion didn’t climb on her bike for as little as a two-block distance on occasion — the other woman wasn’t wrong. Sometimes even the very air had a way of feeling ominous here — bringing that tingling sensation that someone was breathing down your neck, or lying in wait around the next corner. As the other continued on, she seemed to consider her reasoning. After a long moment, she finally nodded her approval. A small gesture, blink and you’ll miss it, chin up, chin down nod. “Fucking desert.” She said by way of agreement. A moment of amusement flickered across her features at the other’s easy excitement.  “Give it a week. Maybe two, if you’re stubborn,” she said, taking a second to appraise the other, tilting her head. “You seem stubborn.” She added, almost as an afterthought. A compliment, though you’d never know it from her expression. “You’ll learn to fix that rental yourself to get out.” She said, attention leaving the other to scan the lot for her beat up old Harley. It had seen better days, but Orion blindly trusted the thing. She chuckled at her own New York assessment being on base — but as quickly as she was affirmed, she was proven wrong, too. She nodded. “You travel a lot?” She asked, hint of creeping at the edges of her question. “Better question — what the fuck brought you here? Fate? The mysterious unknown? — seriously, don’t talk to Billy down at the gas station for more than ten minutes, he’ll make you think you fell into a hellmouth or some shit. Dude’s been off his meds since the Reagan administration. When he gets going, he’s real fucking convincing,” she started, fishing around in her beat up old saddlebag for her spare helmet. “He convinced me this was Purgatory when I was eight. You know what it’s like to learn about purgatory from a dude with maybe ten teeth while you’re just trying to buy a Twix? That’s small town.” She said, pressing the helmet into the other’s hands by way of punctuating the thought.

it’s not as if ramira was stranger to the hot weather. el paso had a dry heat as well, but at least it would snow on occasion even if it didn’t stick. it wasn’t even that hot out, maybe seventy degrees, but she was layered--a habit that she had picked up from winters in new york--and if she walked the hour she thought it would take for her to cross town in her heeled booties and leather jacket? she’d be hating herself by the time she’d gotten back to the holly boarding house. “so i’ve been told,” ramira laughed at the observation. on her parents’ tongues, it was an acerbic insult, but it wasn’t untrue and it didn’t feel hostile coming from this woman. “fix the rental myself?” she laughed, the prius she’d rented was far beyond her limited ability with cars. she could change a tire. she had learned to change the oil on her car as a teenager, but didn’t think she’d remember how to now. and, she could pump her own gas, but that was about the extent of her knowledge so far as cars. “yeah, i do. i’ve been on a couple book tours, but mostly east coast and texas. i went back to cuba a couple of years ago too, just to see where i was born.” she’d also checked out some other quaint little towns, trying to find the right place to write a book, but none of them had held the same eerie allure that boot hill had--though she felt as though the universe had been conspiring against her since the very moment she’d stepped foot in the small desert town. “oh, nothing that ominous.” she laughed in response. “no, i’m an author. i came here to write.” and escape. life in new york had gotten complicated and she had lost focus of who she wanted to be in a see of sycophants and parties. loneliness, it seemed, had found its way to torment her even in her greatest successes. “that makes me feel a little better, because he’s almost convincing until he really gets going.” with a smile, she took the helmet and adjusted it to the size of her head, tucking her long cascade of hair underneath her jacket. “christ, what a fucked up thing to tell a kid.”

[pcsadillas]

ramira & deputy, blythelandry.

Raising an eyebrow at the stranger in front of her, Blythe had no idea what she was even talking about. “What’s a you-ber?” Blythe questioned, assuming that it was some kind of public transportation. With Boot Hill being such a small town, forms of transportation resulted in cars, motorcycles, bicycles, and legs. “The closest city is hours away. I’m sure you can find what you need somewhere around here or you can order it online.” Blythe knew that her town was pretty outdated when it came to electronics. Hell, it was outdated with pretty much everything. “I would check out the general store or even painted sky if you’re looking for a computer charger.” She offered. “I can show you where they are, but I’m currently trekking on foot. Both of them are only a five minute walk from here. You could pretty much walk the entire town in an hour anyway.” Everything was only a hop, skip, or a jump away from each other. A road here and there only separating each section of town. “Generally they are open but they typically don’t do any extra work on the weekends.” Blythe let out a soft laugh at her choice of words. She wouldn’t call Boot Hill cute but it definitely gave most newcomers and some locals the heebie-jeebies. “Well in that case, hopefully you’ll feel safer knowing that I’m one of the town’s deputies. I can definitely protect you from all the heebie-jeebies.” 

“an uber--” ramira spoke evenly, if not a little bit surprised. “--aside from being a german word, is kind of like a taxi but sometimes you get unlucky and it’s a taxi with a karaoke bar inside.” that was always the worst. worse still? being with a bunch of people who think the karaoke machine in the uber is a great idea. “yeah, i was just hoping on getting some work done sooner rather than later.” she had so many ideas and, for every day that she spent typing them out on the typewriter she’d stumbled across or on post it notes spread all over the small, victorian looking desk in her room. “now that is a good idea.” she smiled at the other woman. “i was hoping to avoid sweating through my t-shirt, but i guess i’m sol.” laughing, she takes off her denim jacket, tying it around her waist. “maybe if you speedwalk everywhere. it took me twenty minutes to drive from here to the olive branch bar the other day.” chuckling, she recalls the boutique in question. “painted sky, that’s right. i just kinda figured that they only sold like clothes i guess.” she smiled as the brunette laughed. “well, the whole plan is kind of to not be protected from the creep factor, but i wouldn’t mind the company, deputy.”

[flawlessbeautyqueens]

Jeanine Mason photographed by Randy Tran for Genlux Magazine (2018)

[kingofthepitt]

[macherierps]

[pcsadillas]

ramira & orion, hartorion.

Fucking tourists. Orion’s irritation at the woman’s gripes was evident in a barely contained eye roll and the impatient drumming of her fingers on her thigh. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, dude. This isn’t New York City or some shit — you could throw a fuckin’ rock and it’ll land across town.” While her words were almost hostile, her tone wasn’t quite. It bridge on slight exasperation, but she would blame the fact that her coffee pot literally exploded in her hands this morning. She looked at the woman, considering the request. The drug store was on her way, but Orion’s was in a foul mood and she wasn’t feeling being a sounding board for someone whose day was, admittedly, going worse than hers. Now, her turn to sigh, she nodded. “Fuck it. Why not? I’m headed that way anyway.” Then, as an afterthought, she added, “Hope you’re good with a motorcycle.” At the last words, obvious shock flickered across Orion’s features. She let out a huff of bemused laughter, shaking her head. “Cute? This place is a shithole.” She said. A lifer with no intentions (or means) of ever leaving, Orion had no room to talk. For all she knew, this woman wasn’t here by choice, either. It happened that way — people rolling through, stopping for gas, maybe a bite to eat. Somehow, those fifteen minute stops had a way of stretching in fifteen days, fifteen years. Arizona’s own little flytrap. “Where are you from?” 

“i mean, yeah, obviously.” ramira shook her head as if shaking the smell of boot hill off of her like a dog coming in from the rain. “it’s still a lot longer of a walk than i care to take in this heat and i grew up in el paso.” she’s not anywhere near the most vapid or helpless nyc resident and yet, here in boot hill, she feels like she’s being treated like one of her high maintenance siblings. the guy at the gas station actually asked if she knew how to pump her own gas. yeah, it took her a minute, but it’s only because she’s certain the gas pumps are the originals from the sixties or something. hanging on the other woman’s word, ramira practically bounced in her boots when she finally agreed. “sure,” she shrugged. she’d been on them a few times, but she knew next to nothing about them. “i’m sure it’s less cute when you have to live here.” ramira agreed, already seeing how inconvenient the place was. “oh, ah--well, it depends on what you mean i guess.” she crosses her arms over her chest as she follows the woman to her bike. “i came here from new york--” she tells her with a smirk, a nod to an earlier comment. “--i was born in this smallish city in cuba, but grew up in el paso. so y’know, small towns are pretty new to me.”

[pcsadillas]

@boothillstarters​

“i’m sorry--there’s no uber?” ramira’s face fell and she let out an exasperated sigh. “my rental car died today when i tried to go into the city to go to the apple store, because--for some reason--my laptop isn’t charging and now i can’t even make it across town for lunch?” small town life may have been as quaint as she’d hoped, but it was already difficult to adjust to. no uber. no 24 hour delivery. no apple store. no wonder stephen king’s bibliography took place in small town new england; she was sure this was hell. “i could really use a ride to drug store, though, if you’re able. i’ve got some stuff to pick up and i’d even buy you lunch at the cantina or pizza place as a thank you !” desperate for some midol and hoping that maybe there’d be a laptop charger or something there in all the odds and ends, she figured forking out lunch to a stranger was more than worth the cost. “plus, i’d love to see if that auto shop is open on sundays, so i can get my rental repaired.” with all the weird little earthquakes that happened in this town, she was not comfortable walking all the way across town, even if they seemed harmless enough. “this place is super cute, but walking around by myself kinda gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

[televandalist]

[pcsadillas]

that’s all i got in me tonight, but !! i’ll be back later tomorrow for more replies and to answer ims. i wasn’t feeling too hot today so if i missed you, know i’ll get back atcha tomorrow.