METALLICAR! and WOMEN OF SUPERNATURAL
Sep. 8th, 2009 07:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fannishlissThis weekend, guess what I was STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO? ALMOST RIGHT! the 1968 Chevy Impala two door.
I thought my heart was going to fly out of my chest. The sound of it! SQUEEEEEEEEEE! Just, I was RIGHT THERE NEXT TO AN IMPALA. RUMRUMRUMRUMRUMRUMRUMRUM! It was so beautifully restored. I made a fool of myself in front of all my RL friends, who DO NOT UNDERSTAND CLASSIC CARS. They drive, like, a PRIUS, and NOT BECAUSE AN ANGEL MADE THEM. Which, is actually a good thing, my own car gets 42 highway, but IMPAAAALAAAAAAA!!!! tears of midlife envy and heavy heartfelt sighs.
IN OTHER NEWS, I completed my kamikaze remix, which features Ellen! and Jo! and I am fairly pleased with it. Kamikaze Remix Reveals will be on Sept. 12. It is the unrevealed WOMEN OF SUPERNATURAL story #36! :)
So Here are four more Women of SPN. I only have one or two more to go from Season Two -- YAY!
#37. “Hell of a PA.” PG *Crack* 700 words. feat. Tara Benchley, from 2.18, Hollywood Babylon.
warning: RPF. No real actors were embarrassed by the making of this fic. ETA: Also? I forgot to include the Impala (she wasn't in the episode either!)
Tara was an actor, and she wasn’t idealistic. She worked hard for her money, invested it wisely, kept in shape, ate right, took care of her skin, and prayed for the trends to track her look.
One movie was a lot like another for Tara. She’d been in Feardotcom, and Hell Hazers, and they were a lot alike – she’d scream, and run through the woods, and eventually hack a monster to death in self-defense.
Then there had been that cursed project, Hell Hazers II, and god, that had sucked. All the trouble with the script, and the people who died, it was all too much.
Tara took off for a while, went up to Canada, got a little recurring role on a TV show in Vancouver. It was there out walking near one of the city parks she saw a guy she thought she recognized. Oh, yeah! That fantastic PA from the cursed project. That guy had been so sweet -- and with Hidden Talents.
“Hey, Dean!” Tara waved, and jogged over to him.
He held his two coffees out gingerly as she hugged him, nervously looking this way and that as she gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Hey! How ya doing? Did you get work up here? I’m over at Creighton’s Landing!”
“That’s great, but who are you?” Dean answered.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Tara was actually kind of hurt. Dean had claimed he liked her work, and they’d had a good time together. “It’s Tara, Tara Benchley.”
“Nice to meet you, Tara; I’m sorry if I met you at a con?”
“A con? Well, yeah, I did Comic Con in ‘05 for Hell Hazers.” Now Tara was confused. What was he talking about?
“No, I didn’t do Comic Con till 2007.”
“Okay.... never mind, Dean, I thought I’d just say hi.”
“Jensen. It’s Jensen, not Dean.”
“What? Oh, my god! I mistook you for someone else. I’m terribly sorry! You reminded me of someone I met a while back.”
“But you called me Dean,” this guy, Jensen, said. He looked so much like Dean, but now that she noticed, he was taller, kind of paler than Dean, and had a lot of freckles.
“Yeah, the guy’s name was Dean. A hell of a PA. And boy, could he give a massage. I have never felt so pampered in my life!”
Jensen frowned. “You met Dean? and he ... pampered you?”
“Oh, yeah. The works. Manicure, pedicure, footscrub, and ninety minute massage. Deep tissue. He worked me so hard, he was practically rocking the trailer! Hard, but just right, you know? It felt sooo good. I’ll love that man forever.”
“You met Dean.” Jensen was stuck on that concept.
“Hey! Is he your brother? Identical twins, right? Like Nicholas Brendon? I worked with him once, met his brother at a party. Double the fun!”
“No, no... just.... he looked just like me. And his name was Dean. And you met him.”
Jensen took off his sunglasses and looked right at Tara from under his ballcap. He was just a little squintier than Dean, but basically, yeah, they were identical.
“Yeah! Well, I guess he never mentioned me to you... but he said he was kind of a fan of my work, you know, back in 07 when he was working in LA? We had so much in common, and he was just a really great guy. Tell him I said hi, okay? If he comes to Vancouver, please tell him to look me up. I got a great new recipe for a smoothie he would flip over!
“Dean... likes smoothies?”
“Yeah! Well, I guess, he’d never really tried them until he was bringing them to everybody on the Hell Hazers II set, cause Kraft services for that show really made killer smoothies. I make this pineapple blueberry acai!”
“Sounds great,” Jensen said faintly, still looking around. Suddenly he seemed to be very relieved. “Oh hey, there’s my friend, I’ve got to go. Nice meeting you!” He rushed over to a tall guy in a horrible knit hat who had two huge dogs on leashes.
“Say hi to Dean for me?” Tara waved hopefully, and sighed. She would never forget Dean – a guy like him was one in a million.
#38. “Dream Come True.” PG, 1400 words, feat. Carmen from 2.20, What Is and What Should Never Be
“You say you’re a casting agent?” Carmen squinted at the guy in the dim light of O’Malley’s. This “Dean” didn’t look like the Hollywood type to her.
“Well, yeah, honey: ‘Your Name in Lights!’” The guy had a cute grin and a pleasant way about him, even when he was lying through his teeth. Carmen thought he might be worth a chance. So she decided to call him on his tacky-ass line.
“Aren’t you a little young for that line of work?”
“You’re too kind.” The guy actually batted his eyelashes at her. Or at least, he slowly lowered his lids, regrouped, and raised them again, all the while training his stunning green eyes at hers. Carmen had to admit, the effect was impressive.
“Lotta casting agents change oil for a living?”
That caught him off guard. “Uh, come again?”
“Do you think I’m blind? You’ve got engine grease under your nails. And there’s oil up here, right at the temple. Must get hot at the garage.”
Well, now he was blushing, tips of his ears turning red, and that was just freakin adorable. “Getting pretty hot right here where I’m sitting.” Pretty cool come back too.
“Don’t you ever have a serious answer?” Carmen wanted to know.
“Not if I can help it,”’ the guy said, taking a good swallow of whiskey.
Carmen decided just to fish or cut bait. The world didn’t run on wishes: you had to make your own luck. “Listen, Dean, if that is your real name, I kind of like you... but I’d rather play it straight. You wanna hook up, just say so, and we’ll see how the evening progresses.”
Yeah, this guy really didn’t know what to do with the direct approach. Carmen thought flustered was the best look on him so far – his eyes all wide, his pretty lips parted. “Uh.... yeah. Well, you got me. I am a mechanic. I work down on Elm Street, the Texaco garage?”
“Oh, yeah! My dad always liked that place. Says the mechanic there is real good. Winchester, isn’t it?” What were the odds? He’d just come right out with the truth. Pretty cool, she thought again.
“Yeah, uh, but that was my dad. He passed away a few years back. Stroke, they think. Died in his sleep.” His gorgeous face smoothed over as he covered his emotion. Carmen had seen that sort of thing too often.
“Oh, man, I’m sorry. Worse ways to go though.” She tried to keep the conversation light.
“Absolutely. ... What do you do, if we’re sharing and caring here?”
So much for that effort. “I’m an oncology nurse.”
“Oh god, I mean, that must be awful! I mean, someone has to do it... I mean... What I’m trying to say is, it must take a really special person to be able to handle that, day in day out.” Dean sputtered a bit, but Carmen was impressed by his honest reaction.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re right, it is hard. But I see so much courage, so much love, that even the horrible things balance out in the long run.”
His fine brows drew together, doubtful. “Do they? Really?”
“Yeah, I think they do. Like, just the other day: this old guy – not real old, but old – he’d spent his whole life as a farmer, big strong guy – cancer took the use of his legs and he’s in a wheel chair, and he’s got a wife, and two grown daughters, and a little baby grandson... and they were all so afraid, but being strong for each other. I know, I have to cry about it all sometimes, but you see the best of humanity under pressure like that.”
“Wow. I never thought about that, about death, that way.”
Carmen looked at Dean closely. There was something – not quite right – about his answer. His voice was steady enough, but something in his eyes as he looked up at her, told her he had seen almost as much of death as she had. He had the look. There was just no way around it.
“My line of work, I see death all the time. All the damn time,” Carmen answered carefully.
“Well, finish that whiskey, and let’s see what we can do to see a little life instead... what do you say, sugar?” There it was again. The lightness on Dean’s face – it was forced, as if it covered over knowledge that he didn’t even know was there. Just a glimpse, as though for just half a second, Dean had been someone else – someone who knew death intimately, like she did.
“I’m not too fond of your patter, sweet face, but I like the look in your eye.”
Dean smiled, a real one this time. “Yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” Carmen said, returning his smile. She was intrigued by Dean. She was more than ready to take a chance.
Dean picked up the tabs and they headed out.
The night was cool and Carmen shivered under the moonlight. Dean walked over to an awesome old classic car and opened the door for her. The moonlight shimmered down on the car, all black and silver, and an electric blue light seemed to dance along her for a second, but when Carmen blinked, the shimmer was gone and Dean was waiting for her to get in.
“Wow, these are the perks of being a mechanic, right?” The interior was leather, smooth and creamy, lovingly cared for over the years.
“This old girl has been in my family since 1974,” Dean patted the steering wheel proudly.
“That’s fantastic, Dean!” Carmen could see the pride on his face as he turned the key, and the engine purred into life.
“I know, right?” Dean said, smiling, over the roar of the engine as he gunned it lightly. “That’s the original 427 in there!”
Carmen had no idea what he was talking about, but the engine roared smooth and strong, like a beast the man had tamed with love and affection.
The moonlight shone in through the windshield, but the grin on Dean’s face was lit up from within. Something about him.... she couldn’t put her finger on it. She’d gone home with men sometimes, she was young and ready for fun – but something about Dean just struck her as different.
Carmen laughed, and Dean said, “What?” laughing along with her.
“You’re going to think that this is crazy, but, it’s almost like I know you!”
“You’re right, that’s crazy!” Dean laughed.
Carmen shook her head, happy in a way she couldn’t really put a name on. She leaned over and kissed Dean softly on the lips. He kissed her back gently, matching her move for move, until both of them were breathless.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart, the night is young!”
“Shut up. Let’s go back to my place,” Carmen said, laughing again.
“All right! I forgot to tell you, I moved back in with my mom when Dad died, so...”
“You live at home? Really?”
Dean nodded sheepishly, grinning. Carmen really looked at him. There was something so hopeful, so young, in Dean’s face, but Carmen thought there was a mystery to him, one she thought she might enjoy solving.
“Hey – take my hands,” Carmen said, impulsively.
“Why?” Dean laughed, but he took her hands. He had mechanic’s hands – calloused, scarred and stained with grime that Lava soap couldn’t wash off. His grip was strong, but gentle. Carmen squeezed back.
“Close your eyes, and wish with me.”
“Wish? What for? I’ve got everything I want already.”
“Wish that this will be a night we’ll remember always.” Carmen closed her eyes and gripped Dean’s hands tightly.
A little thrill went through her and she opened her eyes to see their joined hands crackling blue—but it was gone again as fast as she could blink.
“Did you see that?” Carmen asked, surprised.
“Nope!” Dean said, “but I wished like you said. Maybe we made a little magic, huh?”
He waggled his eyebrows at her. Carmen just punched him lightly in the shoulder.
“Take me home, man, and we’ll see what we can do.”
In a warehouse far away, a man hung by his wrists, on his lips the twitch of a grin, in his heart the smiling girl of his dreams.
#39. "Into the Woods." 481 words, PG13. feat. Lily, from 2.21, All Hell Breaks Loose Part One.
The woods came right up to the edge of the town, deserted for years. Leafless trees stood barren in the glaring spring light. Lily stopped for a second on the edge of the woods, remembering what the other girl had said: that everyone who tried to leave the town would die. Well, tough shit. At this point, Lily couldn’t see much of a future anyway. After Katie had died in her arms, three weeks ago last Monday, Lily hadn’t much cared about anything. She had stood at the visitation, alone in new black jeans and a tshirt, long black cardigan Katie had gotten her for their first anniversary; alone in her corner, no one talked to her, no one even looked her way, as her tears streamed down and Katie lay cold in the open casket, far on the other side of the room.
She’d stubbornly gone to the funeral the next day, even though the family didn’t want her in the limo, or sequestered in the retiring room, or seated toward the front. She had gone, and she hadn’t worn black. She’d worn the purple sweater that Katie told her she looked so hot in, and she painted her eyes and nails with stuff Katie had always shared with her, and she’d left her tears in place as they streaked her face with black and dripped off her chin.
She’d driven herself to the gravesite and edged her way forward, dropping a handful of earth, and no one tried to stop her, but still no one looked at her.
Lily was fed up with strangers who tried not to judge, and their try was a running jump off a thousand foot cliff into an ocean of fail.
Lily stepped off the hard packed clay of the path, and she knew she’d pushed past the edge of town, into the woods.
As her sneaker feet crunched the dead leaves and brambles, a shooting pain suddenly rammed through her head.
A black car, an old guy riding shotgun, a younger guy slamming on the brakes and pulling over. “You sure this is Cold Oak, Bobby?” “Looks like the rest of the way’s on foot.”
Tears of agony starting from her eyes, Lily grabbed her head and vomited into the dirt. As the vision let up, Lily spat and tried to get her breath back.
The nasty taste of vomit was in her mouth, but at least now she had a plan. Two guys were gonna leave their car just on the other side of these woods? She was gonna hot wire the thing or die trying.
As Lily quickened her steps into the woods, she seemed to hear a little girl laughing. She thought she saw a shape behind a tree.
Shaking her head, she walked on. The woods couldn’t last forever.
I thought my heart was going to fly out of my chest. The sound of it! SQUEEEEEEEEEE! Just, I was RIGHT THERE NEXT TO AN IMPALA. RUMRUMRUMRUMRUMRUMRUMRUM! It was so beautifully restored. I made a fool of myself in front of all my RL friends, who DO NOT UNDERSTAND CLASSIC CARS. They drive, like, a PRIUS, and NOT BECAUSE AN ANGEL MADE THEM. Which, is actually a good thing, my own car gets 42 highway, but IMPAAAALAAAAAAA!!!! tears of midlife envy and heavy heartfelt sighs.
IN OTHER NEWS, I completed my kamikaze remix, which features Ellen! and Jo! and I am fairly pleased with it. Kamikaze Remix Reveals will be on Sept. 12. It is the unrevealed WOMEN OF SUPERNATURAL story #36! :)
So Here are four more Women of SPN. I only have one or two more to go from Season Two -- YAY!
#37. “Hell of a PA.” PG *Crack* 700 words. feat. Tara Benchley, from 2.18, Hollywood Babylon.
warning: RPF. No real actors were embarrassed by the making of this fic. ETA: Also? I forgot to include the Impala (she wasn't in the episode either!)
Tara was an actor, and she wasn’t idealistic. She worked hard for her money, invested it wisely, kept in shape, ate right, took care of her skin, and prayed for the trends to track her look.
One movie was a lot like another for Tara. She’d been in Feardotcom, and Hell Hazers, and they were a lot alike – she’d scream, and run through the woods, and eventually hack a monster to death in self-defense.
Then there had been that cursed project, Hell Hazers II, and god, that had sucked. All the trouble with the script, and the people who died, it was all too much.
Tara took off for a while, went up to Canada, got a little recurring role on a TV show in Vancouver. It was there out walking near one of the city parks she saw a guy she thought she recognized. Oh, yeah! That fantastic PA from the cursed project. That guy had been so sweet -- and with Hidden Talents.
“Hey, Dean!” Tara waved, and jogged over to him.
He held his two coffees out gingerly as she hugged him, nervously looking this way and that as she gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Hey! How ya doing? Did you get work up here? I’m over at Creighton’s Landing!”
“That’s great, but who are you?” Dean answered.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Tara was actually kind of hurt. Dean had claimed he liked her work, and they’d had a good time together. “It’s Tara, Tara Benchley.”
“Nice to meet you, Tara; I’m sorry if I met you at a con?”
“A con? Well, yeah, I did Comic Con in ‘05 for Hell Hazers.” Now Tara was confused. What was he talking about?
“No, I didn’t do Comic Con till 2007.”
“Okay.... never mind, Dean, I thought I’d just say hi.”
“Jensen. It’s Jensen, not Dean.”
“What? Oh, my god! I mistook you for someone else. I’m terribly sorry! You reminded me of someone I met a while back.”
“But you called me Dean,” this guy, Jensen, said. He looked so much like Dean, but now that she noticed, he was taller, kind of paler than Dean, and had a lot of freckles.
“Yeah, the guy’s name was Dean. A hell of a PA. And boy, could he give a massage. I have never felt so pampered in my life!”
Jensen frowned. “You met Dean? and he ... pampered you?”
“Oh, yeah. The works. Manicure, pedicure, footscrub, and ninety minute massage. Deep tissue. He worked me so hard, he was practically rocking the trailer! Hard, but just right, you know? It felt sooo good. I’ll love that man forever.”
“You met Dean.” Jensen was stuck on that concept.
“Hey! Is he your brother? Identical twins, right? Like Nicholas Brendon? I worked with him once, met his brother at a party. Double the fun!”
“No, no... just.... he looked just like me. And his name was Dean. And you met him.”
Jensen took off his sunglasses and looked right at Tara from under his ballcap. He was just a little squintier than Dean, but basically, yeah, they were identical.
“Yeah! Well, I guess he never mentioned me to you... but he said he was kind of a fan of my work, you know, back in 07 when he was working in LA? We had so much in common, and he was just a really great guy. Tell him I said hi, okay? If he comes to Vancouver, please tell him to look me up. I got a great new recipe for a smoothie he would flip over!
“Dean... likes smoothies?”
“Yeah! Well, I guess, he’d never really tried them until he was bringing them to everybody on the Hell Hazers II set, cause Kraft services for that show really made killer smoothies. I make this pineapple blueberry acai!”
“Sounds great,” Jensen said faintly, still looking around. Suddenly he seemed to be very relieved. “Oh hey, there’s my friend, I’ve got to go. Nice meeting you!” He rushed over to a tall guy in a horrible knit hat who had two huge dogs on leashes.
“Say hi to Dean for me?” Tara waved hopefully, and sighed. She would never forget Dean – a guy like him was one in a million.
#38. “Dream Come True.” PG, 1400 words, feat. Carmen from 2.20, What Is and What Should Never Be
“You say you’re a casting agent?” Carmen squinted at the guy in the dim light of O’Malley’s. This “Dean” didn’t look like the Hollywood type to her.
“Well, yeah, honey: ‘Your Name in Lights!’” The guy had a cute grin and a pleasant way about him, even when he was lying through his teeth. Carmen thought he might be worth a chance. So she decided to call him on his tacky-ass line.
“Aren’t you a little young for that line of work?”
“You’re too kind.” The guy actually batted his eyelashes at her. Or at least, he slowly lowered his lids, regrouped, and raised them again, all the while training his stunning green eyes at hers. Carmen had to admit, the effect was impressive.
“Lotta casting agents change oil for a living?”
That caught him off guard. “Uh, come again?”
“Do you think I’m blind? You’ve got engine grease under your nails. And there’s oil up here, right at the temple. Must get hot at the garage.”
Well, now he was blushing, tips of his ears turning red, and that was just freakin adorable. “Getting pretty hot right here where I’m sitting.” Pretty cool come back too.
“Don’t you ever have a serious answer?” Carmen wanted to know.
“Not if I can help it,”’ the guy said, taking a good swallow of whiskey.
Carmen decided just to fish or cut bait. The world didn’t run on wishes: you had to make your own luck. “Listen, Dean, if that is your real name, I kind of like you... but I’d rather play it straight. You wanna hook up, just say so, and we’ll see how the evening progresses.”
Yeah, this guy really didn’t know what to do with the direct approach. Carmen thought flustered was the best look on him so far – his eyes all wide, his pretty lips parted. “Uh.... yeah. Well, you got me. I am a mechanic. I work down on Elm Street, the Texaco garage?”
“Oh, yeah! My dad always liked that place. Says the mechanic there is real good. Winchester, isn’t it?” What were the odds? He’d just come right out with the truth. Pretty cool, she thought again.
“Yeah, uh, but that was my dad. He passed away a few years back. Stroke, they think. Died in his sleep.” His gorgeous face smoothed over as he covered his emotion. Carmen had seen that sort of thing too often.
“Oh, man, I’m sorry. Worse ways to go though.” She tried to keep the conversation light.
“Absolutely. ... What do you do, if we’re sharing and caring here?”
So much for that effort. “I’m an oncology nurse.”
“Oh god, I mean, that must be awful! I mean, someone has to do it... I mean... What I’m trying to say is, it must take a really special person to be able to handle that, day in day out.” Dean sputtered a bit, but Carmen was impressed by his honest reaction.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re right, it is hard. But I see so much courage, so much love, that even the horrible things balance out in the long run.”
His fine brows drew together, doubtful. “Do they? Really?”
“Yeah, I think they do. Like, just the other day: this old guy – not real old, but old – he’d spent his whole life as a farmer, big strong guy – cancer took the use of his legs and he’s in a wheel chair, and he’s got a wife, and two grown daughters, and a little baby grandson... and they were all so afraid, but being strong for each other. I know, I have to cry about it all sometimes, but you see the best of humanity under pressure like that.”
“Wow. I never thought about that, about death, that way.”
Carmen looked at Dean closely. There was something – not quite right – about his answer. His voice was steady enough, but something in his eyes as he looked up at her, told her he had seen almost as much of death as she had. He had the look. There was just no way around it.
“My line of work, I see death all the time. All the damn time,” Carmen answered carefully.
“Well, finish that whiskey, and let’s see what we can do to see a little life instead... what do you say, sugar?” There it was again. The lightness on Dean’s face – it was forced, as if it covered over knowledge that he didn’t even know was there. Just a glimpse, as though for just half a second, Dean had been someone else – someone who knew death intimately, like she did.
“I’m not too fond of your patter, sweet face, but I like the look in your eye.”
Dean smiled, a real one this time. “Yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” Carmen said, returning his smile. She was intrigued by Dean. She was more than ready to take a chance.
Dean picked up the tabs and they headed out.
The night was cool and Carmen shivered under the moonlight. Dean walked over to an awesome old classic car and opened the door for her. The moonlight shimmered down on the car, all black and silver, and an electric blue light seemed to dance along her for a second, but when Carmen blinked, the shimmer was gone and Dean was waiting for her to get in.
“Wow, these are the perks of being a mechanic, right?” The interior was leather, smooth and creamy, lovingly cared for over the years.
“This old girl has been in my family since 1974,” Dean patted the steering wheel proudly.
“That’s fantastic, Dean!” Carmen could see the pride on his face as he turned the key, and the engine purred into life.
“I know, right?” Dean said, smiling, over the roar of the engine as he gunned it lightly. “That’s the original 427 in there!”
Carmen had no idea what he was talking about, but the engine roared smooth and strong, like a beast the man had tamed with love and affection.
The moonlight shone in through the windshield, but the grin on Dean’s face was lit up from within. Something about him.... she couldn’t put her finger on it. She’d gone home with men sometimes, she was young and ready for fun – but something about Dean just struck her as different.
Carmen laughed, and Dean said, “What?” laughing along with her.
“You’re going to think that this is crazy, but, it’s almost like I know you!”
“You’re right, that’s crazy!” Dean laughed.
Carmen shook her head, happy in a way she couldn’t really put a name on. She leaned over and kissed Dean softly on the lips. He kissed her back gently, matching her move for move, until both of them were breathless.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart, the night is young!”
“Shut up. Let’s go back to my place,” Carmen said, laughing again.
“All right! I forgot to tell you, I moved back in with my mom when Dad died, so...”
“You live at home? Really?”
Dean nodded sheepishly, grinning. Carmen really looked at him. There was something so hopeful, so young, in Dean’s face, but Carmen thought there was a mystery to him, one she thought she might enjoy solving.
“Hey – take my hands,” Carmen said, impulsively.
“Why?” Dean laughed, but he took her hands. He had mechanic’s hands – calloused, scarred and stained with grime that Lava soap couldn’t wash off. His grip was strong, but gentle. Carmen squeezed back.
“Close your eyes, and wish with me.”
“Wish? What for? I’ve got everything I want already.”
“Wish that this will be a night we’ll remember always.” Carmen closed her eyes and gripped Dean’s hands tightly.
A little thrill went through her and she opened her eyes to see their joined hands crackling blue—but it was gone again as fast as she could blink.
“Did you see that?” Carmen asked, surprised.
“Nope!” Dean said, “but I wished like you said. Maybe we made a little magic, huh?”
He waggled his eyebrows at her. Carmen just punched him lightly in the shoulder.
“Take me home, man, and we’ll see what we can do.”
In a warehouse far away, a man hung by his wrists, on his lips the twitch of a grin, in his heart the smiling girl of his dreams.
#39. "Into the Woods." 481 words, PG13. feat. Lily, from 2.21, All Hell Breaks Loose Part One.
The woods came right up to the edge of the town, deserted for years. Leafless trees stood barren in the glaring spring light. Lily stopped for a second on the edge of the woods, remembering what the other girl had said: that everyone who tried to leave the town would die. Well, tough shit. At this point, Lily couldn’t see much of a future anyway. After Katie had died in her arms, three weeks ago last Monday, Lily hadn’t much cared about anything. She had stood at the visitation, alone in new black jeans and a tshirt, long black cardigan Katie had gotten her for their first anniversary; alone in her corner, no one talked to her, no one even looked her way, as her tears streamed down and Katie lay cold in the open casket, far on the other side of the room.
She’d stubbornly gone to the funeral the next day, even though the family didn’t want her in the limo, or sequestered in the retiring room, or seated toward the front. She had gone, and she hadn’t worn black. She’d worn the purple sweater that Katie told her she looked so hot in, and she painted her eyes and nails with stuff Katie had always shared with her, and she’d left her tears in place as they streaked her face with black and dripped off her chin.
She’d driven herself to the gravesite and edged her way forward, dropping a handful of earth, and no one tried to stop her, but still no one looked at her.
Lily was fed up with strangers who tried not to judge, and their try was a running jump off a thousand foot cliff into an ocean of fail.
Lily stepped off the hard packed clay of the path, and she knew she’d pushed past the edge of town, into the woods.
As her sneaker feet crunched the dead leaves and brambles, a shooting pain suddenly rammed through her head.
A black car, an old guy riding shotgun, a younger guy slamming on the brakes and pulling over. “You sure this is Cold Oak, Bobby?” “Looks like the rest of the way’s on foot.”
Tears of agony starting from her eyes, Lily grabbed her head and vomited into the dirt. As the vision let up, Lily spat and tried to get her breath back.
The nasty taste of vomit was in her mouth, but at least now she had a plan. Two guys were gonna leave their car just on the other side of these woods? She was gonna hot wire the thing or die trying.
As Lily quickened her steps into the woods, she seemed to hear a little girl laughing. She thought she saw a shape behind a tree.
Shaking her head, she walked on. The woods couldn’t last forever.
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Date: 2009-09-09 01:27 am (UTC)RUMRUMRUMRUMRUMRUMRUMRUM! Your crack me up girl! Congrats on getting that remix in too.