a sneak peek at one of my secret wips
do you believe in ghosts? 👻👀
They’d been shipped off to spend the remainder of their summer with their Uncle Bobby down in Sioux Falls. It was a small, quiet town where hardly anything ever happened. Which was just about every town around there, honestly, but it was especially true in this case.
They’d only been here for about a week, but already Dean was bored out of his skull being trapped in the middle of nothing with his annoying little brother as his only companion. If you’d asked their dad why he sent them, he would say it was to do grunt work. If you asked Bobby, well, Dean thought he just enjoyed having the company.
Bobby’s house was old, like at least a hundred years or more kind of old, and ever since his car accident left him bound to a wheelchair, he couldn’t make it up to clean out the second floor, let alone the attic.
So, in came Dean and Sam. Their dad had called it an opportunity to “put some hair on their chests” on the drive down.
This weekend’s project was tackling the mess in the attic. Sorting through old cardboard boxes full to the brim with antiques, photographs, and all around junk to put out for a yard sale at the end of the month.
After they came back from the creek, they fixed up a couple grilled cheese sandwiches and made their way up the creaky steps to the top floor of the house. They’d been at it for the better part of the afternoon and well into the evening, before Dean was ready to collapse from heat exhaustion.
He let out a heavy pant as he tossed aside an old canvas camping tent. Surveying their work so far, Dean used the back of his hand to mop the sweat beading at his hairline before tugging off the pair of ratty old gardening gloves altogether. It was probably time to call it a day anyway; the orange August sun was hanging low outside the paned window.
“Alright, I’m callin’ it,” he finally announced to the far corner of the attic where Sam was digging around in what must have been the hundredth box. “Time to get some grub.” He slapped at his slight pudge peeking over his jeans for emphasis.
“Wait, Dean, check it out,” hollered Sam from somewhere within the mess. A couple stacks of yellowing newspapers fell off an antique sewing table as he scrambled out from the corner carrying an unlabelled cardboard box. “Look what I found!”
Dean looked down at the box clutched between his overgrown hands and back up to his baby face.
Man, puberty was a weird time.
“It’s a box, Sam,” he stated frankly. “We’ve gone through about a hundred today. Now, c’mon, before my stomach eats itself. Bobby’s making chili.”
Sam huffed, setting the box down between their feet. He rustled around in it for a second before pulling out another long, slender box and holding it up for Dean to grasp.
“Oh, you gotta be friggin’ kidding me,” exasperated Dean, once he registered what he was looking at. ‘A Window to Another Realm’ the box read.
“I think we should try it.”
“Really, Sammy? Don’t you think you’re a little too old for this crap?”
“I will be when you finally stop calling me that. I told you, it’s Sam now,” he retorted. He reached over and yanked the fragile box back protectively. “You’re just chicken.”
“Nah, but I could go for some right about now.” Dean’s stomach gave a loud rumble at the thought. Just then, Bobby called up to them from the first floor to let them know their dinner was ready.
“Fine,” conceded Sam with a put out sigh, placing the ouija board box down on the nearest available surface. “We’ll eat, but I want to try this tonight.”
Dean was about to deny him, Ouija boards were bullshit afterall, but the pleading puppy look on Sam’s face was just convincing enough for him to cave. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Put the puppy eyes away. When Bobby heads to bed later we can try your dumb board, Bitch. But for right now: we eat.” Dean reached over to ruffle up Sam’s shaggy, brown hair and shove him headfirst towards the stairs.
“Jerk.” Sam stuck his tongue out, but turned and went willingly towards the smell of Bobby’s chili.
