Henry Becker woke up outside. That was a source of great confusion for him, as you can imagine. He had been in bed just moments before. He had to be dreaming; that was it. He shut his eyes tightly. The wind blew across his shirt, pulling slightly on it. Loose pieces of asphalt dug into the flesh of his back. It all felt too real. Henry realized he wasn't dreaming at all. He jerked up with a start.

He was indeed outside. Specifically, he was in the middle of an asphalt road. It was circular, like a roundabout. Five roads jetted off it like the spokes on a wheel. They continued in five different directions. Each seemed to change in quality. Some were laid with old cobblestones or bricks. Others became dirt or gravel trails. He could see buildings in the distance. They were off too. Each was completely different in style.

Even beyond the buildings, something felt so off about it all. It was lighting, he realized suddenly. The color cast by the sun was bluish-green, not its usual yellow and white. Henry looked to the sky for the first time and quickly realized the roads and buildings were the least unusual things about this place.

The sky above him was not really a sky at all. At least, not one you'd see on earth. It swirled like the pictures of nebulas he'd seen in his high school science books. Blues and greens split between the strange swirling shapes made of purples and reds. It was spectacularly gorgeous, but also extremely concerning.

"What the hell?" He murmured to himself as he stood up. He was still in his thin blue and red plaid pajamas. The air was cold. He could see his breath in the air like a mist. A shiver ran up his spine. He had to figure out just where he was and what was going on.

He followed the brick-lined street and headed towards the buildings in the distance. As he walked, that same sense of eeriness fell over him. As if he were being watched by something he couldn't see. His mind wandered back to his walk home from work and that strange red-eyed man. He felt deep in his gut that it had something to do with his arrival here.

When Henry reached the buildings, he found himself surprised again. The street lined with shops was quaint and pleasant. It had the look of an old East Coast fishing town. It seemed strangely nostalgic, even though he'd never seen one like it. The comfort it brought was quickly dashed by the unnerving lack of other people. The streets were empty and desolate. There is no noise or sound of voices. It was eerily quiet. It was as if the place was abandoned.

Henry cautiously moved down the street. Shops flanked both sides of the road. Each had glass windows displaying what they sold. One was a bait shop called Brightshore Baits and more, and another was a bakery with a pink and blue paint job with the rather uninspired name, Brightshore Bakery. He even passed a record shop. Vinyl records from the eighties hung from fishing string in the windows. Cutout paper letters spelled out "New Releases". He could hear music playing from inside.

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Henry cautiously entered the record store. Rows of vinyl filled nearly every available space in the interior. A large red sign hanging from the ceiling marked one section as clearance. It was all surprisingly clean. There was no dust or dirt. It looked as if the place had been cleaned that morning. Yet, bizarrely, no one stood at the register. There were no shoppers. The entire store was empty.

Henry made his way to a half-open door on the back wall of the store. He cautiously pushed against the door. It creaked open, revealing a small room with a simple brown wooden desk. A few scattered papers covered it. It must have been an office for the owner. Like everywhere else he'd seen, it was empty.

A calendar pinned to the wall caught his eye. Festively carved pumpkins were printed onto the surface of the calendar. It was labeled October, 1986. Scribbled red Xs filled the date squares up to October 27th. Henry laughed to himself. Whoever ran the store, they were certainly living in the past. It was August, and more obviously, not 1986. Only he knew his laughter was insincere. He felt uneasy. The hairs in the back of his neck were standing up. Something was very wrong here. He felt like he was in an episode of Twilight Zone.

He made his way back outside and walked another block of empty streets. He stopped and entered a clothing shop called Bright Shore's Best. Like everywhere else, it was empty of people. He found a warm-looking jacket in his size. The style of everything in the store was bizarre. Bright colors and flashy designs that Henry thought seemed out of place. He nervously slid the jacket on and made his way to the front of the store. He reached for his wallet to leave cash behind and remembered that he was in his pajamas. His wallet must have been where he left it on his desk.

Henry weighed his options. He was cold. Very cold. The air outside had a sharp chill. He needed the jacket. There was no one here to see him take it. When he figured out where he was, he would come back and pay for it, of course. He was sure the owner of the store would understand. He took a piece of paper and a pen from behind the counter. Then Henry quickly scribbled down his phone number and name. He pulled the blue and yellow jacket tight and exited the store.

As Henry continued his walk down the empty street, there was a sudden sound of scraping like shoes on stone. Henry whirled around but found no one there. He realized he could hear whispering voices ever so faintly. They seemed to echo off the buildings, making it impossible to find where they came from.

"Hello!" Henry called out, "Is anyone out there?! I don't know where I am."

No reply came.

"Look, I just need some help figuring out where I am."

The whispering fell silent. Almost as an answer to his call for help. Henry scanned the buildings, looking one more time for the source of the whispering. For the first time, he noticed the silhouette of a large building in the distance.

It was a factory that loomed over the shops. Large black words on its red brick facade declared it: Saltworth's Cannery, the best fish you'll ever try. Somehow, Henry doubted that. Smoke lightly twirled from its chimneys. If the cannery was working, then there had to be people running it. They could help him understand where he was and how he had gotten here. Henry turned down an alley past a shop selling dresses and headed for the factory.

As soon as the factory was in sight, Henry knew it would be empty, like everything else. There were no workers loading the trucks parked in the loading bay. There were no people going about work in the windows of the factory. Still, Henry trudged on. If there was even a chance he could find someone, he was going to take it.