I actually came up with this one during a "warm-up" in 8th grade language arts class. We were supposed to write about a town in the middle of nowhere, what it was like, etc., as a kind of introduction to reading the book To Kill a Mockingbird, which also takes place in the middle of nowhere. Even now, looking back on it I had to change very little. This is my perfect home, unattainable as it may be. Show me a place like this, and I would live there until the day I die.
The hill of golden grass shone like the sun in the evening light and cool, refreshing Autumn wind. On the hilltop like a hat sat that little town, a cluster of faded buildings, quaint and tiny, with neat white fences and slanted roofs paved better than the streets. The amber sky, already dotted with tiny specks of light as the stars came out, was streaked with cotton-like wispy clouds. Not a soul was to be seen, not a sound was to be heard, save the ever-sounding tinkling of the wind chimes.
There were people--good people-- in that town, that was certain. But all was quiet, for the people were all in their homes, by their windows, eagerly awaiting the greatest spectacle of it all. For as the fiery red orb of the sun sank slowly and certainly down, melting into the distant horizon, the silver sliver of the moon began its ascent into the darkening canvas of the sky. It smiled down on the little town with its crescent for a caring grin.
Then all of the lights were turned off. All the doors were locked. Every person was in bed. Every window was shut. And this pocket of heaven in the middle of nowhere began, once again, to fall asleep, the golden grass, quaint buildings, white fences, slanted roofs, yawning sky, shower of stars, clouds of cotton, tinkling wind chimes, sinking sun, and smiling moon going on, on, on through the night, the silent, peaceful night.