Fantasy Blue Moon Magic

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"Fortune has brought us to a suburban town in Michigan in the 1980s. Today, people are distracted by the flashy advancements of their dorky instruments. Meanwhile, extraordinary elements of magic that the human race once believed, now leave the modern man skeptical. Fantasy from the most obscure folklore, to the priests and demonic legends, are all real. Each with its own wars and conflicts; these phenomenons see humans as a spec in time easily wiped away, or alternatively, they'd cherish and protect the young species."

 

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Rhodes slept like a rock on the uncomfortable chairs of the packed Greyhound bus. The evening wind whipped itself onto the glass windows and provided the eerie soundtrack to his journey from Washington. A book he was reading for the third time had nearly slipped from his fingers until an abrupt stop jolted him. From the nervous chatter amongst the riders, he soon gathered that the bus was no longer operational. Soon he would be hauling his suitcase from the shelves above him to waiting by a road that seemed to run straight through the middle of who-cares.

Fate seems to have a grudge against his vacation plans, against his personal research of the Virginia Moth-man. The group of disgruntled passengers now wait for an intersecting route to the Kalamazoo Michigan station. Rhodes can't help but look around and judge with his internal monologue, every single passenger. A crying child, an entitled complaining suit, a smiling couple who insists on making small talk, and he can go on about himself. All until he stands pinching the bridge of his nose because the sour expression he's held had strained his face muscles. "If it's not too much to hope for something realistic, all I want is a hotel and some time to rest," he chuckled dryly to a ring of complaining folks who returned laughter and with empathetic stories that bored Rhodes halfway through them.