Johnny Blackburn walked along the dirt path leading home. He had aviators over his eyes and a black cap on his head, and wore jeans and a tank top. A thin sweat formed over his skin as he had been walking for a long time now, the sun as hot as the weatherman predicted. Everything surrounding him was as he remembered it. Beautiful and calm, and fresh unlike the cities he had toured recently. He lived in one of the cities now, but this was his true home. Many memories ran through his mind until he noticed the patrol officer riding up the path from behind on a motorcycle. The officer came and pulled up next to the musician. 


"Johnny Blackburn, welcome home," the cop said, taking off his helmet and greeting him with a handshake and a smile. Johnny oblidged and nodded.


"Ethan Hall, you're a police man now?" Johnny asked. 


"Deputy sheriff," he replied. "Fairburrow is in my jurisdiction. Say, aren't you supposed to be a big deal now? You're a rockstar, why are you walking home on foot?"

"I left my mates back in town, I like to be alone when I visit home."

"Understood. I'll leave you to it then." Everyone in town had heard about what happened to the Blackburn's...Ethan stumbled his words and tried to ease the conversation elsewhere. "Your show is still on, right?"

"Of course."

"I'll see you then, good to see you Johnny. Oh, and they're giving out free flu shots to the locals this weekend. I recommend getting one while you're here, you know all the crazy crap that's been going around in the city."

"I don't actually, what's been going on?"

"Lotta people getting sick, real sick. Take care of yourself, Johnny."

Johnny continued to walk on as the officer turned and drove back the way he came, his radio crackling on about something urgent.

Ethan was always the quiet, smart type if he remembered correctly. He also remembered getting a bully off of Ethan one time, which was a big deal in the school that got him laid quite a bit. Good times. Now the guy could arrest him, he was just happy that they never butted heads before.

If he had come in with his tour bus on the main road, he would have been ambushed by a parade of the locals awaiting him. All the fame stuff could wait until the show, for now he wanted solitude. Everytime he came home he had to be alone, for it was extremely painful for him as this place was where his parents were buried. Having been a bit successful in life, he was able to keep their old house and left it as was. He paid for it to be well kept, though the caretakers were out of town in the moment. 


Making it to the house, he first went to the backyard where his parents were buried together, under their dead apple tree. He knelt and said a prayer to them, letting his tears fall knowing that no one could see him at his weakest. He blamed himself for their death, as he bought them a vacation to a beautiful island. The plane they rode on went down and they died together, but they would have never gone if he hadn't prepared the trip for them. It was three years now until that day.


He slept in his old room that night. In the morning he took his father's old remington rifle and fired at a few placed bottles outside. It relieved his stress and there were none around to hear it or bother him. On the side of the house was an old bomb shelter that held all of his father's weapons still, the shelter went a few floors under the ground. On the other side of the house was the garage, of which still housed his father's motorcycle.


"Right where I left you," he said, starting it up and heading back to town. 

The evenings out here were wonderous. A gorgeous aura lit up the skies that formed a million shapes. It felt like a dream as he rode the backway into the small town of Fairburrow. The closest thing to him was the pharmacy, so he decided to take the sheriff's advice before he met up with his band members. He went inside and got the flu shot with relative ease, saying hello and nodding to those that recognized him. 

On his way out he recognized a girl, one who's name he couldn't quite place at the moment. However, he remembered her and went over to her. Then it came to him. He used to date her sister at one point in time. "Hey, it's you!" he started, though was still drawing a blank on her name. "Uhm, Sherrie, right? Long time no see, what's been going on?" In his mind he was impressed by how she turned out. She was pretty, and from what he could remember of her she liked his music. "It's me Johnny, how've you been?"