The characters I created and the town of CherryBrook are the only things I own.

All other rights belong to Supernatural.


"...County has been placed under quarantine following the outbreak of an unknown disease that has people literally tearing each other from limb to limb..."

click

"...Police report that 20 people were found dead in a popular local cafe this morning. Cause of death hasn't been released but a source claims that they had eaten themselves to death..."

click

"As the swine flu virus continues to spread doctors are urging everyone to get themselves vaccinated and avoid contact with anyone infected..."

With a final click the tv snapped to black. Nearly every channel had some sort of evacuation alert or update on another disaster. Flooding in the east, fires in the west, and disease across every border. Hell, I was smack dab in the middle of it all. I'm not surprised my town had been spared from it though. Cherrybrook was comprised of two types of people; those who were resigned to spending the rest of their life here and the people like me who spoke of leaving but never could. I couldn't begin to explain to you the number of times I tried to get out, jumping into my '79 Chevy Silverado, driving until the sun was to my back and a feeling of freedom filled my chest. But I always came back. Sheepishly though, it seemed, and always in the dead of night as though it were a shameful thing to have to left in the first place. People rarely passed through, the town wasn't exactly a hotspot and there was not even a main highway highest running through it to garner us at least a few more cars. We got the occasional lost tourist, and slightly more often, a curious group of teenagers who had the notion that it was a ghost town. I don't really blame them, from the outside looking in, the mouldy wooden buildings with sagging roofs seem deserted. But they're not. With 500 citizens we're hardly a bustling metropolis but the number never wavers either; people are born, people die, people try to leave but they always come back. No exception.

I didn't have too many friends here, I wasn't a loner by any stretch but there weren't many people my age that I wanted to spend time with. My closest friend, Alannah, had passed away some time ago. Like me, she had always wanted to escape and one day she had announced she was leaving, the next day she was dead. She was found on the pavement outside her house, blood splattered like angel wings, Cherrybrook's one and only unsolved murder. As with any case, suspicions were raised and it was months before people would leave the house at night but her name soon died from everyone's lips, mine included. Everything went back to normal except for this dream I kept having. A nightmare of sorts. In it I would be sixteen again, lying on the hood of an old dodge with Alannah by my side, each of us clutching a beer stolen from our respective fathers' stashes, two pairs of hazel eyes fixed firmly on the stars that would be the whole dream, the two of us just watching the stars until I finally awoke bathed in a cold sweat. It was a dream that wouldn't scare most people but never failed set my heart racing. Perhaps it was because I always had it right before something bad happened; the day my dog got hit by a car, the morning my mom was diagnosed with cancer, when a tree came crashing through my bedroom window. I had it again that night, right after I shut off the TV to go to bed. That night when the sky filled with smoke and air turned to ash.