A light rain fell as I parked on the side of one of the many, meandering paved roads in the cemetery a few miles from my house. I stepped out of the car, a chill jolting through my body from the damp air and the fog hanging heavily around me. It was quiet, since it was only about seven in the morning, yet I found the silence somewhat peaceful. Cemeteries never really scared me or made me feel uneasy--except, maybe for the one in Wyoming--because I had visited a number of them in my years.
I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up over my head to shield myself from the drizzling rain--I hadn't thought to bring a jacket, since it had just begun to rain on the way here--and walked up the grassy hill, holding two, light pink lilies in my hand. I approached Kylie's headstone and crouched down, placing a lily on the grass. I removed a picture of the two of us out of the pocket of my hoodie and set it by the lily. The picture was one of my favorites; it was on our trip to New Orleans. We were standing outside of a voodoo shop, pointing at it all excited. We both had these insanely goofy grins on our faces.
I stood back up, and sighed, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans. It had been a year…
A full year.
I couldn't believe it. How could time pass by so quickly? It seemed so weird. I mean, it felt like we had just met, and then suddenly, she was gone. My only, true best friend.
Life's never fair like that, I guess.
Sometimes, I still wonder what it would be like if things had happened a little differently that night…
Heaving another sigh, I placed my hand gently on top of the headstone in a reverent gesture. "Miss you, Ky." I said quietly. After taking another glance at the picture, I headed in the direction of the second grave that I wanted to visit.
Joanna Beth Winchester
1981-2009
Beloved Wife, Mother and Friend
Approaching my mother's gravestone, I spotted a single, red rose lying on the ground in front of it. I knew that it was from my father; he always visits Mom near the anniversary of her death. I placed the remaining lily beside the rose, and sat down on the wet grass, not really caring what the weather was like or that I'd get dirty. I hadn't done this in awhile; ever since I learned how to drive, I would come out here and just sit by Mom's grave and talk to her, hoping that maybe, wherever she was, she'd hear me. I felt that, right now, I needed to talk to her. I had so many questions on my mind that I wanted to vent and get everything out to make myself feel a bit better. I told her about how we finally killed the Demon, and that Dad, Sam, and Ellen and I were doing fine. I told her all about Oliver, knowing that if she were alive, she'd definitely like him. Then, I paused, biting my lip and fighting back tears. God, how I hated crying…
"I'm so confused, Mom," I said finally. "These dreams…I don't know what the hell they're trying to tell me. I mean, I know I should tell Dad and Sam, but I can't seem to… I understand that they're about you…I wish you could tell me what you wanted me to know. At least give me a sign or something to help me out." Wiping a tear that managed to escape, I got to my feet, ready to leave. However, a sharp, shooting pain in my head prevented my departure. It came out of nowhere, seizing me with enough agony to make my knees give out. I dropped to the ground, rubbing my forehead and temples to try to alleviate the throbbing. It didn't let up; actually, it got worse when I started seeing images.
Yeah, you heard me. Images.
The first one was of my mother, who appeared to be my age. Then, it flashed forward to show her writing in a tattered, purple diary. Next, I saw her and Dad getting married, me after I was born, and the fire sweeping through my nursery the night that the Demon attacked. The short scenes came fast, making my head spin. The pain wasn't any picnic, either, as you can imagine. The vision, or whatever it was, disappeared as quickly as it came, leaving me shaken and with a dull headache. Trembling, I got up from the ground and tried to steady my breathing. I had never experienced anything like this.
Let me tell you, it was scary.
Since when did I get psychic visions?
Was this the sign I had asked my mother for? Could she have sent me a vision? If it was, it was more confusing than the dream, really. And I could've done without the pain…but, whatever. Beggars can't be choosers.
I drove home in silence, thinking about what I had seen. There was a reason that I saw that diary. Maybe my mother's diary was the key to finding out the answers I needed. But where was this diary?
When I shuffled through the door, I was sight to behold. Dad and Sam looked at me like I was crazy. (Oliver was most likely still sleeping.) After all, I was wet, muddy, cold, and I was still a bit disoriented from my first psychic vision. Dad stood up and threw me a kitchen towel. Not that it would do much drying, but it's the thought that counts.
"Where were you?" he asked. I tossed the towel over the side of the chair and started walking away.
"Out," I called. "I'm gonna go take a shower."
Once I had showered and put on some dry clothes, I went back to the kitchen, where Oliver was now sitting at the table with my dad and Sam. I made myself a mug of hot chocolate and plopped down into a chair next to my boyfriend. When I looked up, both Dad and Sam were staring at me.
"What?" I demanded moodily.
"You walk in here at eight-thirty in the morning soaking wet, looking like you just saw a ghost, and all you say is that you went out?" Dad asked. "You could've at least left a note, Alyx."
"Sorry." I muttered.
"Now, where did you go?"
"The cemetery." I said quietly. This simple statement made everyone at the table instantly become somewhat tense and silent. The atmosphere stayed that way until Sam spoke, breaking the uneasiness.
"Ally, you hungry?" he asked. I shook my head, but he got up and started making toast anyway. Why do I even bother?
I sighed and glanced over at Dad, who was reading the paper. Maybe he knew where the purple diary was?
"Dad?"
"Uh-huh?" he asked, folding the paper down to look at me. I didn't want to ask--I didn't want to say anything about Mom in front of him--but I knew I had to. It was the only way that I'd find out what the heck was going on.
"Do you…do you have Mom's old things in your closet still?"
He gave me a confused look. "Yeah…why?"
"No reason," I said quickly. "Just…wondering."
I wanted to ask, Do you remember seeing a certain purple book in there? But I didn't. He would worry and try to interrogate me if I got into specifics. I sat and finished my hot chocolate, then got up and left, claiming that I had homework to do. I really didn't; I had an ulterior motive, as you might have guessed.
I crept into my Dad's room and opened up the closet. It was a mess, naturally, so I had to dig through clothes and other crap to get to the boxes in the back. I pulled out one of the large cardboard boxes labeled, "Jo's Things" and sat on the floor to look through it. I had seen all of the items in this box before; I might've come across this purple diary without even realizing it. There were clothes, jewelry, pictures and some of my mother's personal belongings, like things that were important to her. Lo and behold, at the very bottom of the box, there was the purple diary. I picked it up, shocked that I had actually succeeded in finding the thing. It was a smaller notebook; some of the pages were yellowed and tattered at the ends. I was about to open it and start reading when the door opened.
"Alyx?" Oliver asked, stepping in a bit. I shut the book and shoved it in the pocket of my hoodie before he could see.
"Yeah? What's up?"
"I, uh, just wanted to know if you want to come with me to Missouri's?" he wondered. I stood up, and pushed the box back into the closet.
"Sure."
"Okay. Cool. Let me just get showered and ready…"
"All right." I said. He left, and I went back to my room. I placed my mother's diary in a box under my bed, so no one would find it. I would have to make time to read through it another day.
Unfortunately, I would be too preoccupied with other things to find the answers I wanted…