Okay! So I can't seem to finsih my stories! I will, but my mind goes like at twenty thoughts a second! Here's oneI couldn't ignore. I'm supposed to be finishing my History homework for the marking period, but I haven't even started. I don't care, I rather be doing this anyway!
This story will be done in no time, it's already typed up! so read and review it and I LOVE YOU FOR REVIEWING ! Don't worry, I don't bite.
By: chocolate rules
Disclaimer: I own them, and they say hi...lol...thanks to the WB!
Chapter One: Cheesy Legend
Dean stepped cautiously over to the clearing. He could hear mumbling. Maybe it was the spirit they had been chasing over half the city for the last few weeks. Maybe he'd finally be able to kill the dead bitch and they'd be able to move on. He was growing anxious and almost wanted to run to the clearing and start shooting at the cause of his current distress like a madman.
He drew nearer to the clearing, some thirty yards away, when he noticed something in the mumbling. It seemed to be more than one voice. He took a step and then halted. Three. He had heard three different voices. He had been sure that it had only been one spirit. Three wasn't something they'd been expecting. He might not be able to handle three alone.
Scratch that four. There was four different voices mumbling near the clearing. Dean wondered if they would notice him retreat back to his car. No, Dean thought, better get a closer look. It can't be four spirits. It's probably some schizophrenic spirit. Yeah, since that thought was more comforting.
Dean continued his path to the clearing. Twenty yards away. Fifteen. Ten. Wait a minute. Dean stopped again, listening to the four voices, two of which seemed to do the most talking. That's when he realized it. Those aren't spirits. Dean thought to himself. He found himself both relieved and bothered by this realization. Relieved because there weren't four spirits roaming around, bothered because for the third night in a row he hadn't found the damn spirit in those damn woods.
He put away his shotgun, and instead pulled out one of his many trusted handguns. He quickened his pace, knowing this time that it was only a group of idiotic teens, probably drunk, that had wanted to see if they could lure out the spirit. That was the local legend, "Spend A Night By Fairway Bay, and The Widow Will Take You Away" or something like that. Cheesy legend. Two nights ago he had camped out there and had actually found it to be peacefully disturbing. Nothing attacked him. Nothing, not even a damn squirrel or what have you.