A shout out to my new international cyber buddy, brittpage21. Thanks for your help and advice. I'm glad we now communicate
Sunlight beamed through the car window, causing my amulet to sparkle as it dangled freely around my neck. I stroked the cool silver with the pad of my thumb absentmindedly, gazing at the passing landscape on the Interstate 35. Since infancy, I have had moments of placidity, in which my mind wanders and my gaze always focuses on the sky and clouds above. Dunno why, as I've never thought about it in great detail.
I was lounging in the backseat, one leg stretched out on the upholstery whilst the other was bent so that my sharp elbow could rest on my now healed knee cap, my other arm cushioned the back of my head. My eyes swivelled around and was met by an identical pair. I nodded, assuring my eldest brother I was okay, regardless to the fact I hadn't slept in around seven days. Yet neither Sam or Dean knew about my theory on battling nightmares. Speaking of Sam, our eyes fell upon his giant sleeping frame. An exchange of eyebrow waggles enabled my brother and I to take action. I leaned forward towards the front passenger seat, carefully trying not to rouse my sleeping sibling, a grin spreading across my lips. Dean placed a plastic spoon in our brother's gaping mouth.
Dean smirked with satisfaction and retrieved his cell phone, whilst maintaining control of the car. Pulling a ridiculous face, the Blue Steel as Dean calls it, I pointed at Sam as if to say 'Check it out, it's a comatose yeti'. My brothertried not to crack up as he took the comical photo. Once doing so, I sank back into my usual position as Dean turned up the volume on the car stereo full blast. Sam woke with a start, spitting out the spoon and glared at both of us for an explanation. I simply giggled childishly whilst Dean drummed on the steering wheel, jamming along with the music.
"Ha ha. Very funny" sulked Sam.
"Sorry," chuckled Dean. "Not a lot of scenery here in east Texas. Kinda gotta make it your own."
Sam was still unimpressed by our joke.
"We're not kids anymore," he remarked. "We're not gonna start that crap up again."
"Start what up?" I asked innocently, the grin on my face refusing to disappear.
Sam was still annoyed that we took a laughable photo of him sleeping. Again.
"That prank stuff," replied Sam, exasperated. "It's stupid and it always escalates."
"Aw, what's the matter, Sammy?," quizzed Dean with a playful smirk. "You afraid you're gonna get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?"
I snickered at the memory of hearing Sam, aged fifteen years old at the time of the crime, discovering his shampoo had been switched with ladies hair removal cream. At seven years old, it was the first prank I ever pulled, though it eventually drove me to tears as Sam avoided talking to me for several hours afterwards. I thought it was some brand of sun screen. I had been fully integrated into their games from that moment onwards. Seven years later, Dean still claims that was my best prank.
"Alright," said Sam. "Just remember, you guys started it."
Me! Humph. I always get the blame for starting prank wars, though usually it is.
The conversation turned serious seconds later.
"Where are we, anyway?" asked Sam.
"Few hours outside Richardson," replied Dean. "Gimme the low down again."
"About a month or two ago, this group of kids go poking around this local haunted house," narrated Sam, scanning over a sheet of paper he had grabbed from the dashboard.
"Haunted by what?" I interrupted.
"Apparently, a pretty misogynistic spirit," my brother continued. "Legend goes, it takes girls and strings them up on the rafters. Anyways, these kids see this dead girl hanging in the cellar."
"Anybody ID the corpse?" questioned Dean.
"Well, that's the thing," resumed Sam. "By the time the cops got there, the body was gone. So the cops are saying the kids were just yanking chains."
Wrinkling my nose thoughtfully and as I scratched the back of my neck, I pondered:
"The cops might be right though. Maybe it is just a hoax."
I've come up with some crazy stories in my time. In first grade I told my classmates that I knew a man with raven like wings and could teleport. My creativeness triggered a chorus of immature name calling and a quizzical look from the teacher.
"Maybe," considered Sam. "But I've read a couple of the kids firsthand accounts. They seem sincere."
"Where did you read these accounts?" asked Dean with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, I knew we'd be passing through Texas," Sam said. "So last night, I surfed some local paranormal websites. And I found one."
A chortle parted my lips as I rolled my eyes mordantly. My eldest brother's reaction mirrored my own.
"And what's it called?" probed Dean.
"" answered Sam, embarrassed at himself for looking up such things.
"Lemme guess," added Dean. "Streaming live outta Mom's basement."
Tracing my tetragrammaton amulet with my fingers, I scoffed. I could just imagine those nerds who thought they knew the paranormal. Ha. Gimme a break.
"Pfft, most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it ripped their balls off," I quipped. "Probably watch way too Buffy and X Files."
My brothers grinned, clearly agreeing with my statement.
"Look, we let Dad take off, which was a mistake, by the way," Sam pointed out. "And now we don't know where the hell he is. So in the meantime, we gotta find something to hunt. There is no harm in checking this out."
With Sam's words, we had out next case.
The following day I found myself wandering up and down the sidewalk outside a record store, whilst the guys went to question some kid called Craig. While humming a random tune under my breathe, high tops striding in rhythm to the beat, I paused for a moment. A grin stretched across my lips as I noticed I was approaching a local joke store.
Before we left the motel, I had made the boys coffee, but I had laced it with salt and pepper. It soon became a spitting contest. I wasn't as brutal with the content this time around. Not like the last prank war me and the old man had when Sam was in college, in which I had slipped a liquid laxative into Dean's beer. Man, it was hilarious as he was in the bathroom for near enough a whole hour. Maybe I can try Viagra next time.
A bell chimed as I entered the store. For a prankster it was like a treasure trove of items that had the ability to unleash chaos. I only had seven dollars, so I had to be thrifty as always. My eyes scanned the stock items that were stashed on shelves, there was gap in the shelving and before I knew it I was locked onto another pair of eyes. Intensely dark eyes that caused my heart to flutter. Clearing my throat, mortified that I had been caught off guard, I moved away from the boy on the other side.
Once purchasing my chosen items, I turned to leave but collided with a figure.
"Sorry" I apologised, glancing up as I did so.
It was that boy again. He was wearing an earth colored hoody that complimented his tanned complexion, his dark hair matched his eyes. On occasion I enjoy spying out cute guys with my radar and I had definitely caught something on it. Hitching my backpack onto my shoulders I continued to gaze at the eye candy bashfully. God, it was only a matter of time before I started battering my eyelashes at him whilst giggling like a schoolgirl.
"Nah, it's no worry," remarked the boy with a thick Texan accent. "I'm the idiot who got in your way."
My cheeks were beginning to flush scarlet, I could literally feel the heat radiating from them. I flicked a strand of loose hair behind my ear.
"Dude, it's fine," I murmured, praying I wouldn't do something foolish. "It was my fault."
"No," the boy insisted. "In fact, let me buy you a soda. My way of saying sorry to a pretty girl, like yourself."
Oh God, he wasn't gonna start spouting that romantic kinda crap. Seriously, that stuff is the reason why I hate chick flicks. Whenever I look in the mirror and stare at my reflection, I just see some kid with medium length wavy hair and freckles across the nose and under the eyes. I never have regarded myself as pretty, to me, pretty is having a good developed figure and a certain level of height. So far, I have no curves and I have a washboard stomach as a result of being slightly underweight. My chest is still a work in progress, in the meantime it resembles two oranges fused onto my ribcage. Though I have to say, I don't mind my legs, which are toned and shaped like a ballerina's. Guess I have to that all the working out I do for that.
I focused on the boy again and after a second or two, I nodded, accepting his offer.
"I'm Jared, by the way," introduced the brown eyed boy. "Jared Thompkins."
"I'm Chris Winchester" I returned, shaking his outstretched hand in a polite gesture.
As we ventured outside, my vision became alert as I scanned about to make sure my brothers were nowhere in sight. Thankfully, they weren't, so I continued my trek with the boy that had weakened my defences. The minions in my head were probably confused and demanding an explanation on why their idiot host was behaving this way. Guys must have some sorta mind trick I assumed. We walked side by side heading
towards a small diner across the road.
Jared noticed my wary expression and chuckled.
"Why so worried?," he asked, his eyes falling upon me once again. "I ain't gonna harm you."
"It's not that," I replied, gazing up at him. "I just don't wanna see you getting beaten to a bloody pulp by my big brothers. Their in the record store, talking to some kid about the Hell House."
"The Hell House," Jared scoffed slightly. "My brother says it's just some story."
I smiled back, at least I was focusing on the case and not just his dreamy eyes. Jesus Christ! Snap out of it, girl! We crossed the street and entered the small diner, the record store in clear view from our booth. Oh great, if the old man and Sasquatch catch me, this poor kid is toast.
Once we ordered our drinks, I continued to fiddle with my amulet before my courage returned.
"So," I swallowed before continuing with my questions. "This Hell House is haunted, huh. Have you ever been inside?"
"Nah," Jared replied with a shake of the head. "I've got better things to do than poke around some old house." He added after taking a swig of his soda. "The house has been empty for decades anyway. It's a hoax. All that paranormal and supernatural stuff is bogus."
I shrugged slightly, shooting him a flirtatious smirk in the process. Well, I got news for you buddy, it ain't bogus. Nevertheless, despite my superior knowledge on the subject matter, I played it simple.
"Oh yeah, course it is," I agreed. "Complete bullshit."
It was getting harder to look at him, as he was making me feel giddy . Not ever several gulps of soda could quench my parched throat. Ah, I wish he would stop staring at me like that.
"You new in town then?" asked Jared, inquisitively.
Stifling a burp, I shook my head, making my ponytail swing with the movement.
"No," I returned. "My family and I move around a lot. You could say this town is our current expedition."
Small talk was exchanged soon after. His Mom was a pre-school teacher and his Dad a lawyer. Turns out my new found acquaintance was quiet the prankster himself, his favourite gag was placing mannequin hands in the toilet bowl in order to scare his Mom.
What was even more surprising was that they were due to move to South Dakota in two weeks.
"A friend of the family lives in South Dakota, my brothers visit him whenever we get the chance," I commented. "He lives in Sioux Falls."
Jared paused for a moment, his eyes lit up and his broad smile widened even more, to the point I thought his face would separate.
"No way," he said in disbelief. "That's where we're moving to. Aw that is so cool. We should totally hang out next time your in the area."
I nodded shyly when he asked:
"Can I get your number?"
This was the first time a guy had asked for my number. Secretly I was thrilled, I agreed and we swapped numbers. I was blushing outrageously, completely overwhelmed that someone was interested in me. As I began to stuff my cell phone into my backpack, beside my cans of Red Bull and prank items, my dewy eyed expression vanished and was replaced by horror. My glance had travelled towards the record store, eyes like saucers as I watched my brothers step outside.
"Ah shit!" I hissed, hastily zipping my backpack.
Jared seemed bewildered as I ducked for cover under the table. Yet it was too late. I had been spotted. With a pained wince I could only watch as my eldest brother marched across the street in my direction, Sam close behind him like a shadow.
"You ever had a black eye, Jared?" I quizzed from my crouched and cramped position.
"No," he returned, confused. "Why?"
My brothers were now standing in front of the window, I grinned sheepishly at them and gave a small nervous wave. Dean glowered at my teenage male companion. Even though he was behind glass, I could hear him growl, the throbbing veins at his temples indicated the outrage he felt against a boy having conversation with his little sister.
"Cos, your gonna get one" I replied.
This is part 1 of my version of Hell House. Part 2 will conclude the chapter, following the case, pranks, introduction of the Ghost Facers and Chris's new found friendship with a boy.
I was gonna introduce my O/C Jared in a different way by this seemed to work better for me.
I assure you the next chapter will be longer.
What do you think of Chris's new friend so far? Do you like him? What direction can you see it drifting to?
Stay tuned!
Please review