Everything changed the day the meteor tore through the atmosphere and crashed to the ground in Cherry Grove…most of all for Old Thomas Graves, who was out walking his dog Daisy at the time.

When the terrified and confused townsfolk had dug themselves out from under the rubble of their homes, flattened by the shock wave when it hit, they went looking for the cause of their town’s destruction.

And found it in the middle of Old Thomas’ beloved cherry orchard.

The sun had just started to rise when the townsfolk, whispering excitedly amongst themselves, gingerly approached the silvery-black rock. Gasps of amazement filled the quiet of the early morning air when they found Daisy, alive and well, curled up next to the gigantic stone. They quickly unhooked her from the leather leash that was pinned under the rock, immediately understanding what had happened to Old Thomas.

Attempts were made to retrieve his body, but eventually the townsfolk gave up the task, consoling themselves with the knowledge that the silvery-black rock from outer space was a fitting monument to mark the final resting place of the ninety-eight-year-old founder of Cherry Grove.

To honor his memory, they erected a memorial plaque next to the meteorite, along with a wrought-iron bench so those visiting Old Thomas could sit comfortably while they gazed over what remained of the orchard he’d lovingly nurtured into existence.

And life went on.

But the fallout from the meteorite’s arrival didn’t stop there.

It didn’t take long for word of it to get around. People from far and near began flocking to Cherry Grove to see it.

Among the first to arrive were the Government officials who tried to claim the interstellar rock, stating it was a matter of national security. But when they were unable to move it—something the townsfolk could have told them was impossible if they’d bothered to ask—they said it could stay. But more than one person overheard them talking about bringing in a special army unit to relocate it to a secret military installation.

Scientists showed up and set up camp in a nearby field so they could study it.

Concerned families began trickling in, bringing their sick and ailing to touch the meteorite, desperately hoping the stone had healing properties that would cure them. And miraculously, many of them did recover, though the scientists said there was no way to know for certain the meteorite had been responsible for their loved one’s healing.

But the people of Cherry Grove knew the truth.

Those who were sensitive to nature and the spirit world thought the meteorite had mystical powers and spent long hours communing with it, afterward saying the stone held secrets far beyond their understanding, but were certain it could do wondrous things.

Their words found fertile ground in those searching for a miracle.

Young brides wanting to get pregnant pressed their flat bellies against the stone, certain contact with it would make them fertile.

Those financially destitute begged the meteorite for help, convinced it would fulfill their wishes if only they were passionate enough in their requests.

Those looking for someone to love would lay their hands upon its silvery-black surface and whisper to it of not wanting to be alone any longer.

And for many, their deepest desires were granted.

And with every dream fulfilled, every healing performed, every love found, the legend of the miraculous rock from outer space grew, bringing more people to Cherry Grove. And all who arrived were given an opportunity to touch the meteorite so they, too, could ask it for what they needed most, with the meteorite bestowing its blessings on a fortunate few.

But that all came to an abrupt end when a group of men attacked it with pickaxes and chisels, trying to chip off pieces of the space rock to sell on the black market. Overnight, a metallic barrier went up around the meteorite.

From that day forward, nobody could get near the stone unless the shimmering black gate in the newly erected barrier opened and granted them access. Something that infuriated the Government officials. Determined to get through, they brought in their specially trained army unit. But when even their attempts to drop down on it from helicopters were repelled—the soldiers stopped by an invisible force mid-jump—they had no choice but to accept defeat and move on.

Months passed.

But the flood of visitors arriving in Cherry Grove showed no signs of slowing, even though only a few managed to get in to see the meteorite. The small town was soon overrun when many of them decided to stay. Low-rise apartment buildings went up to accommodate the newcomers. Merchants opened shops of every kind on Main Street, then Second, and even on to Third. Stop lights, which had never been needed before, were erected to control the surge in traffic as the population of the small town expanded.

And people kept coming.

The borders of the town doubled, then doubled again as more visitors arrived wanting to see the falling star of Cherry Grove until the once small town was a thriving community of over twenty-three thousand and growing.

Newspapers from the larger cities took notice of them, sending their reporters who wrote articles about the meteorite and its wondrous powers, driving even more people to Cherry Grove. The town’s borders were pushed out again. Grassy fields were replaced by apartments and plots of land were marked off and filled with single-family homes. Shops flourished with the steady influx of big city money, until they too expanded, setting up second, and sometimes third, locations.

The Town Council, seeing the opportunities in the unprecedented growth affecting their town, decided to formally change the name of Cherry Grove to take full advantage of their newfound notoriety. Thus Starfall Grove came into being. The newly named and expanded town was like any other midsize American town…with one major difference…the large cosmic stone that lay at the center of everything.

But more than just their town was changing.

Those living within the meteorite’s sphere of influence realized they were becoming more sensitive to nature and the powers of the earth. Babies were born with strange markings on the palms of their hands or soles of their feet, and as they grew, manifested powers that affected the world around them. Still others, particularly those in areas of law enforcement and education, gained extrasensory powers, which, when added to their natural abilities to read and connect with people and situations, made them a force to be reckoned with.

The stone also began to draw those who were Other to Starfall Grove.

Shifters, dragons, vampires, and even a few stranded Fae began trickling into town, all looking slightly bemused even as they made arrangements to stay, unsure why they’d packed up their old lives and come, knowing only that this was where they needed to be. The townspeople would nod in understanding and welcome the newcomers to the community with open arms, knowing their celestial stone had called them to Starfall Grove.

And for the few who thought the stone was an abomination, and were unaccepting of the many different beings making Starfall Grove their home…well, they soon found reasons to leave and were never heard from again.

That’s not to say everything was perfect. Starfall Grove was no different than any other community, containing a mix of good people and bad, friendly and curmudgeonly, wealthy and poor, those who resented everything and those who found joy in every day. But overall, it was a great place to live where everyone looked out for their neighbors…most of the time. Because even the best of people can have an off day.

Like the time Elizabeth Kendall’s cherry peach pie took the blue ribbon at the Annual Spring Fair, beating out Barbara Ellen, who’d taken first prize for her cherry berry explosion pie nine years running. Barbara Ellen was so outraged by her defeat she threw her second-place cherry berry explosion pie, with its intricate lattice top, into the judges’ faces, then tackled Elizabeth Kendall to the ground. By the time they’d managed to separate the ladies, not a single table with baked goods was left standing, to the dismay of everyone who’d won the raffle enabling them to claim one of the non-winning entries to take home.

Then there was the time the Johnson boys stole Barney Ridley’s work truck to go joyriding and ended up driving it into the duck pond at the edge of town. Being that it was a warm summer day, half the town was there to witness as it sank beneath the algae covered waters. They cheered when the three soaked and shamefaced boys waded through the cattails at the edge of the pond to be met by their irate mother who dragged them off by their ears, switching which triplet she was holding every few steps so no one’s ear got missed being yanked.

And then there was old Fred, who had a habit of drinking away his weekly paycheck, then passing out in Mrs. Phife’s garden. The police officers on duty the night Fred got paid would sit with Mrs. Phife on her veranda, drinking tea and chatting as they waited for Fred to stagger down the back lane, where he would, like clockwork, stop in the exact same place to light a cigarette. As he’d lean back against Mrs. Phife’s fence to take a long drag, he would, without fail, topple over the low barrier and land in her daisies. After a couple of abortive attempts to get up, Fred would collapse to the ground and, surrounded by the bright, cheerful flowers, begin snoring.

Once Mrs. Phife had made sure nothing had caught on fire, she would ask the officers if they had time for another biscuit, which they always did, after which they would fish the slumbering man out of her garden and let him sleep off his drunk in the jail cell they kept set aside for him.

All in all, life in Starfall Grove was much the same as you’d find in any other mid-sized town, having just enough excitement to keep the local police force busy but without any of the major crime of a big city.

Or so they thought.

What none of the good people of Starfall Grove were aware of was that under the façade of politeness and goodwill, there was a darkness. A contingent of those who didn’t want to live in peace and harmony. Ones who believed the powers they held gave them the right to take what they wanted. They chafed at having to live by the rules of the community, when by rights, they should be ruling over everyone who was weaker than them.

They attempted to sway the others who had influence and strength to their way of thinking, but were met with disbelief, then, when they pressed further, anger and contempt.

So they tried to take control by force, but to their shock, were easily stopped. How was that possible? They were the strongest, the chosen ones. How could anyone have stood against them?

That’s when they discovered a select few had been gifted with shards of the meteorite that amplified their powers.

Their fury knew no bounds. How dare the stone give pieces of itself to them, those who’d shown themselves to be weak, unworthy, their unwillingness to wield their power for their own benefit proving how undeserving of it they were.

So they tried to obtain their own shards but were unable to get near the meteorite, its unearthly power holding them at bay. Their hatred for those who had been favored by the stone was now matched by their obsessive need to take those powerful shards for their own.

But knowing they weren’t strong enough to defeat the shard-holders, they fell back, giving every appearance of being beaten. Acting subdued, they pretended they’d learned their lesson, that they’d given up on their plans, then, when attention turned away from them, they looked for other ways, darker ways, to gain the power they needed.

Ancient texts of dark magic were unearthed from family vaults and studied. When they’d learned everything they could from those, they went hunting for others, chasing down every rumor until they found what they were looking for, taking those texts from their rightful owners, feeding the dark tomes their blood to transfer ownership to themselves.

And then they looked for more, continuing their searches until they finally found the texts that showed them what they needed to do.

Every lesson required the spilling of blood.

They went after the weak and vulnerable, sacrificing them so they could extract their power. Loners arriving in town were captured and drained. The righteous, who’d wanted to live anywhere but Starfall Grove, never made it far past the town’s borders before they were taken and made to suffer for hours before finally being allowed to die.

And sometimes, when one of them proved weak, they would turn on each other.

But they learned. And grew stronger.

They operated in the shadows, presenting polite public faces as they delved deeper into the ancient texts, going further down the darker paths. Voices, heard only by them, fed into their deepest desires, their narcissism, their greed, encouraging them to more monstrous deeds, pulling them further into the abyss.

As their powers grew, so did their hatred at having to conceal their true natures. They hungered for the day they would no longer have to hide, when they could destroy those who stood in the way of what they wanted. When they would wrest control of Starfall Grove from those protecting it and rule over all. Then they’d take over the next town, and the next, until they controlled everything.

“Patience,” the slippery voices from the dark whispered. “You are not ready. Watch. Wait. Prepare.”

Knowing better than to disobey and wary of alerting the shard-holders to their plans, they heeded the voices and stayed in the shadows, biding their time in seething frustration as they waited for their moment to strike.

That day was almost at hand.