B is for Brookstone

Ah, Brookstone. I’ve lived here my entire life, but I really don’t know anything about my hometown. It’s small. It smells a little like copper and farmland. It’s a place where nothing exciting ever happens. It’s just where I live. And, it’s also where I cannot wait to get away from once I graduate. That’s really the best reason for taking this crazy trip. I get to leave Brookstone. Without the parental units. Well, at least without my parental units. There will still be grown ups on the trip, I suppose.

Brookstone is home to a few unique things, though. I love the old fire station just down the road from my house. It’s been abandoned for years, left to rot once the city built the fancy new station downtown, but it looks like something straight out of a medieval city. Gothic spires and gargoyles line the entrances to the firetruck bays. I remember being told it used to be a hospital before it was converted to a fire station. It looks like a hospital, so I totally believe it. At night, it’s kind of spooky to drive by – sometimes I feel like there are lights in the windows, even though I know it’s not possible. And, before you ask, no, I don’t believe in ghosts. I just have an over-active imagination. Or so I’ve been told by, well, by everyone.

Brookstone is also home to a couple state fair winning swine, the 1999 Miss USA, and Carlton Michaels. Carlton, now there’s a story.

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