The Big Bad Wolf
SPN 100 drabble, word: storm.
Summary: Sometimes you find yourself smack in the middle of what feels like a horror movie. And you don't like the role you're supposed to play…
A/N: I haven't been playing in our sandbox for a while, so I took all the words I've saved up and used it for this one. 300 words on the dot. Have fun ;-)
She woke with a start, disorientated, her heart thumping as if she'd been running in her dream. She could hear the storm raging – playing with garbage bins and empty bottles, tugging at the shutters like a wild animal, howling with fury and joy.
Wait.
It wasn't just the storm.
There was another sound, creeping up her spine and setting her nerves on edge – some growling and shrieking right next to her room.
She tried to ban the images of banshees or the Wild Hunt from her mind.
"Dammit, mum – why couldn't you tell me fairytales like any other mother would do", she mumbled, searching for her bathrobe and her slippers in the darkness, instinctively avoiding to draw attention by turning on the light.
She fumbled on the kitchen counter until she found a knife.
"Yep, right from the script of some stupid horror movie – go on, Blondie". A nervous chuckle.
She opened the door and winced at another high-pitched scream next door that stopped abruptly. God, maybe some weirdo trying to get rid of his nagging wife?
Pushed by gusts of wind she crept to the window of the adjoining room.
Light fell through a gap in the shutters.
She pressed her fingers around the knife and kneeled on the concrete, peering in.
On the floor of the crappy motel room was a house built from four rickety chairs with a sheet as a roof. In front of it crouched a boy in his PJs, huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf, making his chubby baby brother in the piggy house shrieking and giggling and forgetting about the frightening voices of the storm outside.
The woman sneaked back to the room and snuggled into her bed, smiling tenderly as memories of her mother playing with her flooded her heart.