Worshipping The Fire
Sorry this update took so long. I have been working on an original story lately, not to mention I feel like my work has become...boring? Stupid? Melancholy? Bland? I have no idea, but I knew I didn't like the feeling. Hopefully this will get me out of my writing funk.
So here is another ten melancholy one shots.
11. "Perfume"
"Riles?"
A blonde, currently twitching out of her car ridden slumber mumbled a gargled, "What?" before promptly arching her back and started to fall back asleep.
"What's that stank?" Riley ever so elegantly lifted her arm and took a sniff of her armpit before shaking her head. "I don't know, Blay." It wasn't much, but it was the only answer she could give her at that moment in the way of an answer. Riley didn't have the energy to stay awake very long or voice her opinion that, yes, something did indeed smell highly rank.
Blaise wrinkled her nose as she switched lanes. She couldn't place the smell that was coming from somewhere in the car, and she didn't like that. Was it her imagination or was it getting stronger?
Suddenly, Riley sat up from her reclined position. "Ugh, that does reek." Her entire face crinkled in disgust. "It's like...something masculine puked in the back of your car!"
At that, Blaise had enough. She couldn't stand not knowing anymore. The Camaro pulled off to the side of the road, her expression turning into that of determination.
Both Riley and Blaise set their seats forward to explore the depths of the shallow bench seats. Blaise searched her hand under the surface of the seats, hoping not to touch anything too disgusting, when her fingers grazed the smooth, slightly damp surface of a bottle of some sort.
Pulling the mystery object from the dark, shallow depths to light, Blaise was wrought into a speechless stupor for one of the first times in her life.
Only to be pulled out when Riley's helpless fits of laughter, barley having the breath to giggle out: "Your baby daddy wears perfume!"
A leaking glass bottle was to blame for the offensive smell. It was covered in a label promising to attract women in droves, and it was clearly lying. Not only did it advertise promiscuity, but, in sharpie, was the name of Blaise's fiancé and the father of her child, written in bold cursive. Probably the reason it was abandoned in the first place.
"Oh, I have to pee now!" Riley gasped out between fits of laughter, her hand resting on her yet-to-show pregnant belly from her forming second child. "Best road trip yet."
12. Apple Doesn't Fall Far From The Tree
Three children spread themselves, and their toys, around the floor of a cheap motel room as a baby rested in the arms of his eternally beautiful mother. They didn't pay attention, lost in imaginative fantasies where anything could happen, to the two women responsible for their lives chatting from seated positions near the front window. Even if Jake was old enough to know what his mother and aunt where cackling about, he wouldn't have tuned into their wave length, having learned to exercise caution long before then.
"He didn't do anything?"
"No," Jake's red headed aunt swiped her tongue quickly over a row of white teeth, a habit she had picked up for when she was particularly annoyed. "Just looked confused. No idea why I was mad."
The boy in question looked up from the game he was playing with his younger cousin on the floor to see his mother scrunch her eye brows together. "Well, you can be a little confusing sometimes, Blay. Your brain just moves way," Riley's eyes widened before rolling and releasing a sigh of exasperation. "Too fast for everyone to keep up. Especially not one of our idiot husbands."
The cackling suddenly re-erupted from the parental units sitting near the window, only to be interrupted by the strange actions of the little girl and her Barbie's. "Babe," the child recited from one of the scenes she had witnessed at some time, her voice a masculine impression as she moved the male doll. "I don't know why you're acting this way!"
Riley lifted her elegant eyebrow, not noticing that the door behind her had opened to reveal two intrigued brothers.
"Are you stupid? You never listen to anything I say!" The little girl lifted the plastic Barbie's arm towards Ken's head. Whether Barbie wanted to or not, she then proceeded to yank the male doll's head completely off and watch it bounce across the room.
The room was silent for a moment as the copy-cat child finally noticed the eyes on her person, her cheeks filling with a blush before pulling into a cheeky grin.
"Well...I see the apple really doesn't fall far from that tree." The shorter of the two men standing in the door way sighed, his mouth set.
"Daddy!" The girl looked at her paternal figure, her arms reaching up in a clear gesture. The man took the hint, moving forward to pick his precious daughter up from her spot on the floor, ignoring the laughter coming from the direction of his giant of a brother. "Shut it, Sam."
13. Mastermind
No matter how he tried, he couldn't plan the game. He used to pride himself in his ability to plan and strategize down to the final moment of each puzzle, of each game, of each strike. Each piece was perfectly selected. Each move thought out ten-fold.
One day, however, a new player stepped up to bat. Challenging him with sparkling, clever eyes and an attitude in tow.
At first, he had stayed far away from her, choosing to avoid this new player all together.
That didn't last long. She played like she owned the game.
Like she invented the game.
Maybe she did.
After, what kind of Mastermind would Sam Winchester be if he didn't know who's game it truly was.
14. Play Date
"Bye Riley!" A door slams before high heeled footsteps run, the sound echoing in the house. Riley sighed, her eyes still wide as a car started, speeding out of her driveway with the force of a Camaro engine.
The children Speedy had left didn't stay still for long.
Chubby legs pushed forward to chase chubby cousin legs around her house, violent crashing sounds echoing in their wake.
So this is their definition of a play date, huh?
15. Thanksgiving
Both male Winchester's and their wives arrived at the O'Connor household, children in tow, Sunday best chaffing their necks.
Sandra Faye was Blaise's mom and, as mean as they heard she could be, Ms. O'Connor was nice enough to graciously invite the whole crew to Thanksgiving dinner at her house.
Dean shrugged. Riley jumped up and down in excitement. "Blaise, your mom's cooking is the best!"
Sam and Blaise? They cringed.
The yellow front door finally opened, revealing a wide eyed Sandra Faye, her tiny arms open in a gesture of welcome. "Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!"
16. Sing
Sam never thought of his wife as an excellent singer, preferring his iPod to the vocal talents of anyone he knew. He was to eat his words today, though, because there was his wife in a rocking chair, her swollen ankles elevated, and her mouth forming the words to the most beautiful song he ever heard.
Ena, their baby girl, was in her arms, content to rock back and forth all night long. "Blaise."
"Hm?"
"What is it you're singing?"
17. Phantom
The smell of burning photo paper drifted up to his nose, a phantom whiff of remembrance for his old life. A life full of laughter and hunting. No one really thought about the ghost their life would leave behind, or the fact that it might come back to haunt them.
They didn't care.
It was all just a phantom on their edge of the conscious mind. A fray. A loose end.
18. Companion
They say a dog is man's best friend and, I suppose, they might be right. What they don't mention, however, is that companionship can come from many places.
It can come from a husband, a child, a cat. Even a goldfish. The point is not being lonely. That's all anyone ever wants: to not be alone.
It can even come from the puppy dogs eyes of a gentle giant you just met. Whatever it takes to stop that lonely feeling.
19. Maybe
"Maybe isn't good enough!"
"And why not?"
Blaise closed her eyes, refraining from stooping down to the level petty-ness her husband so quickly parachuted to with an answer like 'and why not'. She didn't want to say it, but he sounded like a child. "Maybe was always good enough before, Sam."
"It's not, now." Sam's face was getting a shade darker every moment he argued with the infuriating woman in front of him. "Yes, or no? It's a simple question."
A long pause stretched before them before a giggle signaled the stooping of levels; the other opponent turning to leave in a fit of giggles. Red, wavy hair bounced with each step. "Maybe yes, maybe no."
20. A Rose By Any Other Name
"Gwen?" Sam called out, already knowing the answer and flipping to the next page of the book.
"No. Too...No. Just...no."
"So," the gentle giant shifted his leg underneath him. "Let me get this straight...We've looked through three whole baby books in the last two weeks and still haven't found one name for either gender you like?"
Blaise rolled her eyes, resting her hand on her bulging stomach as Sam rubbed her swollen feet. "Sounds about right."
"We're not going to come up with a name as good as Ena's in one of these books, are we?"
Once again nodding, Blaise smiled a tiny smile in his direction. "Sounds about right."
And that's all she wrote. For this time, at least.
ALSO: I'm moving soon, so most of my updates might be halted as I won't have internet access the first few days I move in. BUT I will have my computer, so that means lots to update for when I do have internet!