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NeighborhoodThe street sits as a dusty cracked path through a silent neighborhood.
Not quiet, quiet is too comfy of a word; peaceful. Silence.
The kind of silence that makes you wonder if anyone else even exists.
It's punctuated only by the occassional passing car, raindrops, or a short thunderclap
Nature's whispers bemoaning the state of things.
An ice cream truck jingles merrily as it speeds by.
Children never play outside anymore, so no one rushes to stop it.
The once happy tune sounds hollow, haunting, and half broken.
Half Broken like everything here.
A burned out house two doors down, a vacant lot across the street.
Empty houses; once beautiful abodes, now grey and sad with no one to love them.
The yards are weed-choked or browned; dying bushes and grass that no one cares about
peeling paint, cracked pavement, and dull and dreary looking trees.
A neighborhood that used to be peaceful, but now it's silent.
The Panic Room (A Supernatural One-Shot)“Dean…? Dean?”
The name felt like lead on Sam’s tongue, so thick and heavy that he wasn’t sure if the syllable had actually made it past his lips.
The only reason he was aware of something cutting into his neck was the trail of red that was marking a small pathway against the stark fabric of his shirt. The dark suit and tie that usually accompanied the white-collared look were missing, but he couldn’t remember why.
His brother’s name seemed to drop soundlessly into the dark space before him. Everything felt heavy. Dull. Maybe he was dreaming.
But dreams shouldn’t smell of dust and abandonment. They shouldn’t be framed by cobwebs and wallpaper so aged that their floral design has faded into funeral bouquets. They shouldn’t have flickering candlelight and robed figures looking down on you.
No, dreams shouldn’t be like that.
But Winchesters don’t have dreams. They have nightmares. Sam smile
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