'Old Town' reminds me of a Stephen King novel...that should be (or has it been?) written.
There are homes here which are well over 100 years old, most of them being extremely well kept and maintained. Most mornings when I walk past the white picket fences, perfectly manicured lawns and American flags...I find myself looking past the front doors, down unlit corridors and into the minds of the 'possibly' not so perfect inhabitants. I imagine them to be murderers, rapists, and domestic abusers. Most of them are likely to be 'none of the above', but....*shrugs*
I find myself drawn to the 'other side of town', you know...past the dive bars, alongside the 'lowriders', behind the railway tracks and wonder why this is the case. I think it might be because I noticed a sign on a storefront window in the 'main town', advertising a local 'freemasons' meeting. It could also be because I had an hallucination in the park (in the middle of 'main town', where the fountain is) a few days ago. I lit a cigarette and was convinced that the old man who walked past me and turned his nose up in disgust at my wretched habit was going to wiggle his bony fingers at me and growl something like "You had to go and ruin it...DIDN"T YOU" and curse me with warts. One house happened to have a large white labrador sitting on it's front porch which I swore (or at least imagined) was a white 'Cujo' that was going to tear apart unsuspecting pets, children, freemason's and big creamy donuts, right before my eyes :)
I've been taking photos of these houses and turning them into something a B grade horror might be proud of... I just hope I don't offend the 'neighbors' with my overactive imagination and my desire for them to secretly be...mutant zombies.