IF YOU GO DOWN TO THE WOODS TODAY
EO Challenge: Words sprain/ed and scary; The challenge is a two hundred word Hallowe'en themed double-drabble, involving rain and cold weather, any type of sickness and limping and our awesome boys together being brothers. Um, ok … *hyperventilates briefly*
Disclaimer: Looked in my cupboards, under my sofa, at the bottom of the garden … nope, clearly don't own them. Damn!
... with the Winchesters involved, Hallowe'en will never be the same again ...
Sam hated Hallowe'en; just didn't get it - celebrating the scary, skulking fuglies that they hunted? Monsters that killed, cursed and ruined peoples' lives? Really?
This Hallowe'en was no different; he was sitting with his brother on a dingy forest floor, Dean scowling glumly as he rubbed his swollen ankle. Yes, Sam wasn't the only one that could throw a mean bitchface.
They looked up as a rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, heralding a sudden downpour.
Sam sighed; yep, Hallowe'en, it's crap; period.
Their hunt had been difficult and frustrating; Sam was sporting three impressive stripes across his face thanks to low hanging branches; Dean, having taken a flyer over a tree root, was nursing a sprained ankle; but all was well. The fugly was dead; really dead; like, limbs akimbo, head staved in, lifeless empty eye sockets staring at the sky kind of dead.
"C'mon Dean, we should move before we get pneumonia;" Sam offered his hobbling brother an arm. Leaning heavily against each other, the brothers stumbled their soaked and weary way through the rain, putting that evil, dismal woods behind them; bloody, sore, but satisfied in a job well done.
Yes, Jack Skellington wouldn't be dancing his way through any more friggin' Hallowe'ens.