Return to Ashbrook - Chapter 1 - Why I left

They said the town was abandoned.

That the last families packed up years ago, taking only what they could carry when the air began to reek of sulphur and the nights were filled with that… sound.

But I know better.

I left Ashbrook when I was seventeen, with nothing but a duffel bag and a bus ticket. I swore I’d never set foot there again. But some places cling to you, whispering in your dreams until you can’t ignore them anymore. For years I’d wake up in a cold sweat, hearing the creak of floorboards in my childhood home, or the rasp of voices beneath the walls. And last week, the dreams changed. They weren’t calling me away—they were calling me back.

The highway into town was overgrown, trees pressing in like skeletal arms. The Ashbrook sign was still there, riddled with bullet holes, its white paint peeled down to splinters. I should have turned around then, but the closer I got, the stronger the pull.

Every house sagged with rot, windows shattered, porches collapsed. Yet, when I stepped onto Main Street, I noticed something that froze my blood: the curtains in the old pharmacy shifted. Someone—or something—was inside.

I walked faster, past the diner where the booths were still arranged neatly, a coffee cup resting on the counter like its owner had just stepped away. Past the school, where chalk still lingered on the blackboard: Ashbrook Elementary Welcomes You Back.

And then I heard it.

That same low hum I remembered from the last night before we fled. Back then, it had come from the woods—a bone-deep vibration that made the windows rattle and my teeth ache. Now it rolled through the empty streets, deeper and louder, shaking the cracked pavement beneath my feet.

I followed it, like a moth to flame, until I reached the town square. And there they were.

Everyone who had left. My neighbours. My classmates. My parents. They stood in a wide circle around the crumbling fountain, perfectly still, their faces pale and stretched in grotesque smiles. Their eyes… God, their eyes weren’t human anymore. Milky, endless, reflecting something vast and hollow.

And they all turned toward me at once.

The humming stopped. The silence pressed in so thick it felt like I was drowning. Then, in one voice, they whispered:

“You came back.”

I ran. I don’t even remember how I made it to the car, or how I found my way back to the highway. All I know is that I’m not safe, even now. I can still hear them when I close my eyes.

And the worst part?

I know I’ll go back again.

Because Ashbrook doesn’t let go.

Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model