The Mannequins of St. Tristan
Something isn’t right in that little town called St. Tristan. Its people have been known to behave oddly to both visitors and immigrants alike. Not a single inhabitant even thinks of moving out of there to live somewhere else. And the most concerning is the nocturnal life of the townsfolk.
Every man, woman, child, and animal from St. Tristan were not like those outside. The faces of St. Tristan never change, expressing nothing but one emotion. No matter the tears in their eyes, the blushes on their cheek, or the tone of their voices, their faces forever remain unchanged. It is as if a paralysis has forced these poor souls into showing one expression on their face. Their interactions with the outside world are too strange, behaving oddly towards those who visit.
In fact, the people of St. Tristan never leave, and not a single one even expresses the interest to travel. Even if there was one that wanted to go – or at least convinced – they would either forget it immediately or change their minds the next day. This affected the relationship between us and them, and this split will never be mended. All this made St. Tristan a strange isolated town and an oddball among its neighboring towns who know the name.
However, there is more to the behaviors and the people of St. Tristan. One story tells of their life during the night and further confirms the strangeness of this town.
It is said that every night, they all stop, stand upright with their mouths open wide. Strings like that of a puppet can be visible, attached to the joints of limbs and the scalp of heads. The sources of these strings are beyond me. And at this time, a stranger would come to the town while the townspeople are in such state. The stranger would come into town and remain there until morning when the sun rises. Here, the people will revert to the status quo, waking up in bed, getting ready for the day, and continuing their daily activities in their lives. And this stranger we mentioned never left a trace as if he never entered the town in the first place. No townsfolk is aware of this stranger.
No person outside the town dares to stay one night in St Tristan. No one wants to risk disappearing forever. Those that do are either foolish or consumed by curiosity. I doubt no one lived to tell the tale. I fear they’ll just be another mannequin of this lovely, lonely town, strings attached to them by the puppeteer responsible for the town.
Who dares visit this town and stay for one night?
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