Welcome to Transyl, Utah.

I arrive in Transyl, Utah, after a forty-minute drive that had me worried about the place I decided to move. I left the airport with a bright afternoon sun only to enter crepuscular skies and ominous back roads in a hilly forest that reminded me of fairy tales. But not the cutesy ones, the cautionary ones, with concrete gargoyles that turn into flying creatures ready to capture the town’s children with their sharp talons. Or thousands of hidden eyes within the dense forest that watch you as you venture through and give you that prickling feeling on the back of your neck.

I hold my broken luggage a little closer to my chest as the driver weaves his way through until we come to a light at the end. I relax when he circles around the roundabout that encircles the entire town center that leads to a vast parking lot. I remember that part of my research as a selling point. The town center, locally called the courtyard, is foot traffic only.

I tip the driver and step onto the smooth path that leads to an opening in the courtyard. I can see the tips of the mountain because, despite the cloudiness of the woods, the courtyard doesn’t have a cloud overhead.

I look at the white church next to me with brightly colored rooftops complete with cross spindles on the tops of three points. The windows at the top are illuminated within, showcasing a different saint in each slot. A bell sits outside the door with a sign of the times when it is hand rung. The plaque on the front reads, Look to the Heavens, non-denominational.

I step further into the courtyard, taking in the massive amount of shops. Most are vacant, but even so, I notice how beautiful the architecture is on each building. The large windows and statues adorned within the building fronts give it a romantic feeling with a tinge of something dark despite some of the colorings. For every coral or robin’s egg color, dark bronze or greenblack is never too far away.

The various flowers are striking shades of red, whether deep and dark or bright and almost pink, amongst shocking purple hues and black. I’m able to identify the popular ones like calla lily, iris, rose, viola, and petunia’s but there are others that I have no idea what they are, some otherworldly looking. Light and dark greenery fill giant pots that spill over with vines reaching chaotically toward the ground. I touch a partially hidden plant tag that reads Escargot Begonia for the unique plant that reminds me exactly of a snail. It’s just incredible looking. I snap a few pictures, knowing the two main people in my life will want to see my new home.

As I make my way past a clock shop, hearing the coo-coos inside chirping at the top of the hour, I get the distinct feeling that I’m being watched. It’s unnerving, but I don’t see anyone paying special attention to me specifically until I look up. The attic windows on several of the roofs look like sleepy eyes peeking over the courtyard. I don’t understand why they built them like that because it’s not the most comforting of feelings.

I walk past the enormous black fountain in the center, but not before leaning down to see the intricate damask detailing on the bottom. This place is unreal. I turn when I hear the bell being rung by an older man at the church I was just at. The chime is deeper than I thought a church bell might sound. This tone is more like impending doom, maybe purposefully to remind us sinners that the end is near.

I’m too early to meet the landlord and I realize I’m starving, so I look for a place to eat. I spot a huge colorful venus fly trap jutting out of a building with a burger in the mouth, ketchup and mustard dribbling down over the lettuce, and figure it will do as lunch. I notice the spooky-looking font on the sign stating that it’s aptly named The Burger Place. No mystery there.