Old town, maybe Germans settled, followed by the English, out on windswept prairies, sitting on those hills, with deep ravines on sides of the road. Sunflowers smile at you in the summer, fire grass in the fall and winter. Farms dotted the countryside once only about a mile on the lines.
The nearest town, a center for the farmers, a gathering of co-ops and thoughts swirling around improvement. The town with its eventual fast food mom n pops, the fifties hangout west of town on a small hill with its cheesy bacon heart attack served with cholesterol creamy drinks, t.v. a new thing for the neighbors to hang around, a vibrant family concert after the shows, a town of dreams.
A young girl in her A&W hat and shorts at Montoya\'s A&W on the southwest part of town on the highway with ambitions swirling in her, desires to maybe move away at least for a bit. She still had Almena dreams for her Kansas town.
She would go away but always return for the Almena Days, where some girls weren\'t married for a day. She wasn\'t the sort. A time to see friends.
As the town aged, the train whistle no longer impinged on the ears. The fire took the burger bar west of town. Montoya\'s died from retirement. The grocery store moved away, actually disappeared ghosting the town. The gas ran out and no doctors replaced the local legend. A living ghost town of people still gripped by hope.
Almena dreams.