#red’s 900 followers campfire ghost stories challenge

[thing-you-do-with-that-thing]

Campfire Stories

Characters: Sam Winchester, Y/N, College Kids, Dean Winchester,

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths (sorta), chewed off limbs (not really), cannibals eating people (kinda), landwalking sharktopus (erhm… well), dumbass college kids (yep definitely a real warning), seriously this is not angsty at all!    

Word Count: 1900ish

A/N: This one is written for @little-red-83’s campfire ghost story challenge and as always (or almost always) I chose to write for Supernatural. My prompts were: A repairman (who) Rabid animals or angry ghosts of animals.  (what) Abandoned cabin (where) This happened on a cruise (when) While exploring (why)

Thanks to the always brilliant @blacktithe7 for betaing this and helping me figure out the plot.

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

The night was pitch black, with the tall trees closing you in like an outdoor prison, keeping you from the rest of the world. It was freezing cold, and you were beyond annoyed with your stubborn, bonehead boyfriend. It had been his idea for the two of you to go on hunt alone, and to be honest, you had loved the idea. It was amazing getting to spend some time alone with Sam, but you were so not an outdoorsy person like he was. So when the hunt had lead you to a pack of werewolves that had camped out in a few cabins in the woods, you had been far from trilled. Sam had made the best of it though, and you had kicked those fuckers ass. Everything had gone surprisingly well right up until your idiot boyfriend had gotten the two of you lost. You had been fighting for the better part of an hour, and you were freezing your ass off when you had finally had it and called Dean to come find you.

“I can’t believe you did that Y/N,” Sam kept grumbling 30 minutes after you hung up on his laughing ass of a brother, but honestly you were willing to take any amount of ridicule from Dean if it just meant getting home in a warm bed for the night.

“Well your genius Stanford pre law ass got us lost! What did you want to do? Wander around out here all night until we died of frostbites or got attacked by a grizzly?” you hissed at him. You hands were balled into fists at your sides as you resisted the urge to slap him.  

“There are no grizzlies in Kansas, Y/N,” Sam bitchfaced.

You made a sound like an old kettle when it is done boiling.

“Fucking Polar Bear! Whatever,” you growled at him, shooting him a warning look when he smiled.

“Look Baby, I’m sorry,” Sam bravely stepped towards you as you glared at him, but when he ran his huge hands up and down your biceps, you started to relax. His touch always calmed you, and there were always heatwaves coming off him. Sam was like a furnace, warm and inviting. You wanted to throw yourself into his arms, but you were way too proud for that, even with the concerned expression he wore on his face.

“Shit you’re really cold Y/N/N,” he muttered, making you roll your eyes at him so hard it actually hurt.

“That’s what I have been trying to tell you dumbass,” you deadpanned, but Sam no longer appeared to be listening.

“Look Y/N, I think I saw a campfire a while back, maybe we should circle that way? Our gps are on. It doesn’t matter if we keep heading the same direction,” he suggested, and you released a shaky breath, simply nodding. You wanted to hit him over the head for not saying something earlier, but you were too tired to fight anymore. You just wanted a place to sit and get warm. You wanted Dean to find the two of you, and you wanted to get home to your bed and not leave it for the foreseeable future.

After about 15 minutes of walking, you finally got to the campsite. Sam insisted you stay out of sight until he made sure what or who it was. After only a few seconds, he came back to retrieve a very grumpy you. You had been in no mood for his overprotectiveness but also had no energy to fight him on it, which he had taken full advantage off.

“It’s just some college kids. Come on,” Sam offered you his hand, which you angrily slapped away as you stalked towards the warmth of the fire.

“Hi,” you smiled at the kids as you appeared from the woods. “We got a little lost, but we have someone picking us up soon. Do you mind if we sit by your fire for a bit?” you asked, watching the kids look back and forth between each other before one of the girls spoke.

“Sure. We got an extra blanket over there,” she pointed to a log behind her. “If you don’t mind some ghost stories, you’re welcome to stay for a bit.” She smiled welcomingly, which you quickly returned, pulling Sam with you towards the log.

Sam nodded and smiled at the kids. “Ghost stories sound fun. Just pretend we are not here,” he offered.

You and Sam settled down beneath the blanket, and he dared put his arm around you, pulling you close. You didn’t fight it. You had a temper, but you rarely stayed mad at him for long, so instead you just cuddled closer, sending him an apologetic smile as one of the girls finished her ghost story.

Sam shook his head, letting you know not to worry about it, and you shared a genuine amused smile when one of the boys asked if the rest of the group wanted to hear a real monster story that happened to his uncle a few years back. The other kids made fun of him, making you stifle a giggle, and Sam give your shoulder a small squeeze, clearly relieved you were seeming to feel better.

“So get this,” the kid started, and you instantly poked Sam’s side, sending him a wide teasing grin, making him roll his eyes at you. The smile in his eyes was evident though. He was very aware of his habit of starting every conversation like that whenever Sam found a new case. Had he not been aware of it before, his loving girlfriend had made sure he was now.

“My uncle was on this cruise, and the boat suddenly broke down a little south of the Bermuda Triangle,” he started, making his friends interject instantly, calling him a liar and an idiot. You and Sam tried to hide your amusement in the background if it all, snuggled close together for warmth.

“It has nothing to do with the triangle. So shut up!” the guy sulked before grinning. “Well, not exactly. They had to dock at this island so they could fix it. The guests weren’t allowed to go onto the island, because apparently there were cannibals everywhere or some shit. But this couple… Bentley, newlyweds, they went onto the island anyway, even after there were rumours that people had been eaten there before.” He stopped talking when he was questioned on how a huge cruise ship could dock on an island that only held cannibals, but you weren’t really paying attention to his reasoning since your boyfriend suddenly snorted besides you.

“10 bucks says the next to go onto the island is a repairman,” Sam whispered into your ear, making your eyes widen in surprise as you sent him a questioning look. Sam just shrugged with a smirk, and you turned your attention back to the boy telling the story.

“So when they found out that the couple were missing, no one wanted to go onto the island after them until the repairman volunteer. He was a big dude, like 6.5. Big ass beard, and he looked like an MMA fighter.” the description made Sam make an audible grunt as he tried to stop himself from laughing.

“Sorry,” Sam hit his chest for effect as he coughed, “it’s been a chilly night.”

The kids just shrugged and turned back to the story, but your eyes stayed on Sam, questioning him.  

“It was Dean,” Sam whispered to you in explanation, and you frowned at him in confusion. Yes, Dean was a scary looking guy to people that didn’t know him, but he sure as hell did not fit that description.

“When was Dean in Bermuda?” you whispered, back clearly not convinced, but Sam just smirked back at you.

“He wasn’t. And it wasn’t a cruise ship either. It was some adventure motel in the middle of nowhere that took tourists out into the swamps to explore,” he whispered back at you, and you couldn’t help but smile. It was all starting to make a little more sense. “The Bentleys were the third couple to go missing, but not until after Dean got there. I was hold up with a broken leg in the Bunker, a few months before we met you. He went in alone, posing as a repairman. The resort closed down when they went missing, but Dean went into the swamps after them.” Sam nodded towards the boy, grinning at you. “Let’s hear what happened next.”

You had missed a chunk of the story listening to Sam, but none of it seemed that important since repairman Dean had now only just made it to an abandoned cabin. When you looked up at Sam he nodded, so that much appeared to be true. However, when the kid said Dean found the guy shredded alive with his guts hanging out and the chick screaming her head off next to his dead body, Sam rolled his eyes, whispering, “Dean brought both of them home. A little injured, but alive and fine.

“So when the repairman tried to get the chick back to the boat safely, this sharktopus looking thing appeared out of nowhere. It had tentacles and razor teeth, but it was full on running on land,” the guy insisted, much to the ridicule of his friend, which luckily, downed out your and Sam’s chuckles.

“Yeah you laugh! The chick got eaten alive right in front of the guy and he only got away cause it tore his leg clean off, and it took some time for it to chew,” the guy sulked as his friends kept laughing, and you giggled against Sam’s chest, before looking up at him.

“Werewolf?” you whispered, making Sam snort with laughter.

“No. Alligator,” he grinned at you, and your eyes opening wide, before you erupted into laughter, which didn’t lessen as Dean’s voice sounded behind you.

“Well it looks like I hurried for nothing,” Dean nodded at the college kids before blowing in his hands to warm them. “Come on. I am freezing my ass off out here.”

You and Sam politely thanked the college kids for letting you stay and for their story before trailing after Dean, who instantly started teasing Sam.

“I gotta say, I am impressed dude. You managed to get lost 2 miles from the main road. How do you do anything without me again?” He sent younger brother smug grin, making you actually feel bad for Sam.

“Well Sam might not always have the best sense of direction, but at least he never went hunting for a weregator.” You send the older Winchester a smug grin, and Dean instantly sent his little brother a look that could kill small animals.

“You told her? What the hell man?!” Dean hissed, but Sam just laughed, pulling you close against his side.

“Actually, you are quite the urban legend,” Sam grinned. “The college kids did the telling. I just adding in a few facts. What do you say you tell Y/N how you got that scar on your leg?”

You eyes widened, and you practically jumped to pull up Dean’s pants leg. He moved quicker managing to hold you at bay.

“Shut it Sammy!” Dean growled, turning his back on both of you, clearly sulking. “One more word out of either of you, and you can walk home.”

You and Sam shared a look before erupting into laughter, making Dean’s broadening shoulders tense even further as he picked up the pace.

“Son of  Bitch!”

Sam Tag Team

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#sam x reader #red’s 900 followers campfire ghost stories challenge #sam winchester x reader #spn fluff #sam fluff #sam winchester fluff #spn imagine #sam imagine #sam winchester imagine #spn fanfiction

[beaflower77]

Do I Really Want To See                    What Is Down There?

Here is my first Creepy Writing Challenge Original Fiction. I tweaked the writing prompts @little-red-83 gave me, with her permission, of course.

Who : A Librarian   What : Creepy child, black eyed ghost (changed to amber eyed, tall mysterious figure)    Where : old trapper’s cabin (changed to old, run down house)    When : During a break in (changed to taking a break)             Why : Wrong place, wrong time (well maybe not, in my opinion. I’m ready anytime)                          

                     Do I Really Want To See What’s Down There?

They had spent the last fours driving. It was late, they were exhausted and the road was miserably long, dry and steady. And her leg was beginning to throb, cramping up.

“Hey, you awake?,” she asked, prodding her driving companion on the leg. That leg, the leg which was pushed and prodded, twitched slightly, and its’ attached body awoke. “Mmmm,” Lovey mumbled, “What’s the matter? Are we there yet?”

“No. I don’t know where we are, I think we’re lost,” Dexter said, slinging the map off to her. “Here. Look at the map. I need some help here.” Sitting up, groggily brushing her eyes and hair from her face, Lovey took the squished map, unfolded it. “It’s dark outside, you know,” she mentioned. Dexter lifted her arm from the wheel, “Then turn the light on.” She switched the little rectangle on the car ceiling. “I need to know where we are. Nothing about this area looks familiar from the map. You’re the librarian. Help me out.” Lovey in return rolled her eyes, sighed.

Unfolding the map, turning, folding half over, turning round again, “It’s gotta be somewhere up there,” mumbled Lovey. “This map is old. I thought you took the newer one. Doesn’t the library have tons of them?,” she mentioned, refolding it up, returning it to the glove compartment. “No. My library sucks, “complained Dexter. “That’s the one you gave me. Do you have any idea where we are?,” Dexter once again asked, eager to get somewhere, farther away from wherever they were. Hardly any lights were left on this forgotten stretch of land. It was getting very late.

“There! Up there!,” a smile creasing Lovey’s face, as she started to recognize small bits and pieces of landscape. Pointing ahead, “After this old gas station we should come to a fork in the road. Make a left, and my Aunt’s house should be bout a mile down.” Turning to Dexter, trying to make apologies, tapping her lightly on her arm, “See. We’re almost there. You did it. You did good with the driving. Good job. We’ll be there soon and then we can really get a good night’s sleep.” Giving a loud and wide yawn, stretching her back, with her arms raised as far as they could reach the car’s roof, hearing little crinkles from her joints “Oh, I’m so sick and tired of being in this car,” Lovey softly whined. “Yeah, well, I hope your Aunt is home,” was all Dexter could think of. 

Surprised no one was home, they had waited forever on the doorsteps, peeking through opened curtains lining sealed windows, “I don’t know. She said she was going be here.” Lovey tried shrugging that nagging feeling off. Thinking they should just announce themselves, “She left the door unlocked. Let’s just go in and unpack,” Dexter suggested warily. And lifting her brown and kaki duffle, “She’ll probably be here in the morning. No biggie.” “Maybe she’s already asleep?, Lovey asked. The two sighed, tiptoed in, sneaked and snooped round the old home, went upstairs, peek into unused rooms, then looked at each other. “I’m not sleeping up here,” Lovey suddenly proclaimed, eliciting a look of heart sinking alarm from Dexter. “Okay, well if you’re not, I’m not either.” And they withdrew themselves from the too tight confines of the one long hallway and half emptied rooms for a bigger, fresher looking double bedroom downstairs. The untouched rooms were left untouched.

Trying to settle in, looking round the old, semi dilapidated house, the sparse but manicured bedrooms upstairs, downstairs, the two young women, crept about, shyly peeping into full closets, opened doors, peered round dark corners. “Where’s your Aunt? Why isn’t she here?” Dexter was getting creeped out by the minute. The lighting was scant, shadows were flitting. Lovey’s emotional feelings of unease weren’t much better off. Where was her Aunt? It wasn’t like her not to be here at this hour. Yes it was very late, but still, where was she? 

Dumping their belongings on the floor and bed, “This is the newer part of the house.,” Lovey explained. “When my Aunt originally bought the place, the other owners said they had the kitchen and this room and the bathroom added on. They had one of their in-laws living with them. I don’t think she uses the upstairs much.,”  “Yeah. I guessed not.,” Dexter replied, obviously not too impressed. Dexter looked round the room’s corner to the bathroom. “Bath is big. You could fit an army in there.,” she mentioned, poking her head round the doorjamb, waiting for another of Lovely’s explanations. “Yeah.,” Lovey agreed. “It’s cedar. The shower. A jacuzi and shower.,” she smiled with a knowing thrill.

Walking back into the bedroom, Lovey went and closed the second bedroom door, which separated their room from the hallway. And older part of the house. And locked it. “Why are you locking the door?!,” Dexter asked, looking frightened for a moment. “No reason.,” Lovey gave her. “Just, I don’t know. It seemed the right thing to do.,” and she proceeded to empty her duffle in the hopes of finding some night clothes. “Want to take a shower first? Or in the morning?,” Lovey asked. Dexter opened her bag, found some clothes, grimaced at the thought of being alone all night. “No. Go ahead. I’m fine. I’ll wait till morning.”

Listening to the sounds of the water softly pounding down, coming from the bathroom next door, the everyday sound was comforting, normal even. Dexter began to forget the unusual noises from the house, the uncomfortable feelings nipping at her neck, the paranoid gazes she felt from empty, yet watchful corners. But as Dexter relaxed more and more, letting the sound of Lovey’s shower melt her dismay and unease, she began to let her feelings and guard settle down, think and remember.  Dexter had met Lovey a few times at the local library while on Lovey’s desk shift and the two became fast friends for these past eight months or so. Smiling to herself, reminiscing, Lovey was sweet, kind, intelligent, but just a bit stubborn. Like this, insisting they spend the weekend at Lovey’s Aunts’ place. In the middle of nowhere. Halfway to the other side east of the state. Dexter laughed at herself, pondering this, as the continual everyday sounds filtered next door. Right next door. Literally a footstep away from Dexter in bed. Was this where they would start, she wondered? Start their life together? Begin here, with telling Lovey’s Aunt, telling friends and family their relationship was more than just friendship? Dexter smiled, feeling finally at peace with their situation, finally finding someone she felt connected to, was relaxed around, felt loved and accepted for just being her. And mentally, emotionally settled down further, knowing Lovey’s feelings and hers were more than genuine for each other. 

Laying in the warm, soft double bed, drifting further from reality, she half lay, half sat. Trying to read one of her books, not truly concentrating on the paragraphs, as she gazed round the bigger downstairs bedroom in which they shared, Dexter’s thoughts continually came back to earlier in the evening. Newer part, she thought. It’s still creepy. This whole house is creepy. The sooner the morning comes, the sooner we can get out of here. Dexter mused and turned an unread page. The shower sounds lulled her a bit further, and she sank back more against the pillows, letting her heavy eyelids drift down, starting to doze, and her book finally settled against her chest. And the sounds of the shower continued. 

**************************************************

Where had the entire evening gone? The night was now darker than ever, and a tomblike quiet filled the eerie house. Dexter woke with a huge breath, stretch and a yawn. Had she fallen asleep? When did this happen? She rolled to the empty, chilled side of the bed, reached, and took a glance at the bedside clock. “Three a.m.?,” Dexter questioned the thickened air. She lay there in bafflement. Where was she? She stretched her mind. Where was she? “Oh, yeah,” she said aloud. “This house.” Trying to see through the darkness, “Lovey?,” she whispered sleepily. “Lovey?” That sound. What was that sound? That comforting, drip, drip, dripping sound she heard in the background. “Lovey?,” Dexter again whispered through the dark, as she woke more, becoming just a little concerned, a moment of fright actually beginning to root. 

Pulling back the comforter, stepping into the dim hall, she knocked on the door, pushing it ajar just slightly, peering inside. “Lovey?,” Dexter asked again. Why was she asking? It was three a.m. Did she seriously think her friend was still in the shower? After five hours of having been there in this house all night? “Lovey?,” again she asked, now becoming seriously frightened by the thought of aloneness setting in. The bathroom was empty. Devoid of life. No Lovey. The shower? The shower was on, fully on, steam having left the bath long ago. Dexter stepped close to the curtain, turned the knob, wiped her wet hands, fingers on the towel laying nearby. Not knowing what to think, where to look, Dexter left the bathroom light on, stepped back into their joint room. Flipping a switch near the bed, Dexter’s eyes clamped shut against the invading light. She looked round the room. The door opposite the bed was still shut and locked. Where was Lovey? Not wanting to go from this room, nor wishing to go exploring, the house was no longer just beginning to make Dexter uncomfortable, it made her upset.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

Dexter heard it. She heard it very painfully plain, clean. The stairs. She could visualize the set of stairs leading to the level above, and turned to listen. She herself had made those soft creaks as she and Lovey walked earlier. But unlike these footfalls, hers and Lovey’s were soft.

Creak. Creak. Creak. Creak.

Someone was on the stairs. Dexter sat on the bed, not moving, not breathing. Someone was in the house. Someone was on those stairs. Someone heavy. Their step was heavy. She fervently watched the bedroom door while sitting there, knowing on the other side was the older part of the house. She was in the newer part of the house. So, she assumed, she was … safe? The sound stopped. Dexter waited, listened, stared.

The knob turned. 

The knob of the bedroom door outside turned. And turned the opposite way. On the other side of the door, someone’s hand obviously was on the knob. The door was locked from this side. Dexter stared hard at the door. What was there? She wanted to call out, to ask, ‘Lovey?’, but she couldn’t find her voice. All Dexter could capably do was sit there, on the bed, in the newer part of the house, and stare at that blessed, wretched door. It rattled, rattled, rattled. And stopped. Silence. The air was thick with silence. Dead, drawn-out silence. Slowly crawling off the bed, still staring at the knob, the locked door, her fingers of their own volition reached out, stretched out to touch the knob, then quickly retracted back against her body. Dexter quickly backed away, retreating to the bed once again.  Knowing the opposite bedroom door near the bath was built on the new side of the house, she partly stuck her head out, mildly calling, “Lovey?!, Lovey?!”

The slow, cryptic creaking seductively whispered through the air again. 

Creak. Creak. Creak. 

The stairs began to strain against someone’s heavy footfalls, this time leading up to the second level. “Lovey?!!!,” screamed Dexter. She had enough. Rising, putting shoes on without socks, Dexter ran out the other side of the room, into the kitchen. The sky blue, newly designed kitchen. Flipping switches here and there, turning lights on. Newer parts, older parts of the house, she didn’t care anymore. “Lovey?!!!” Dexter needed to know. Running through all parts of the house now, Dexter came full circle back to the opposite side entrance of the locked door to their room. And looked up the stairs. Where there was not a thing, except darkness. Dexter was not going up there.

Returning her gaze back to the bedroom door, putting her hand tentatively on the knob, Dexter slowly turned it. And turned it the opposite way. Nothing. The knob didn’t budge. Dexter pulled, pushed, rattled it. Nothing. The blasted door on this side was solidly locked. Dexter was now in the older part of the house. Her comfortable bed was on the other side, in the new part of the house. “Shit,” aloud she exclaimed. Her comfort level dropped a few feet.

“Dexter,” whispered a voice. She heard it, causing her to come to a standstill, looking at nothing but flat air. “Dexter,” it spoke again. Not a menacing sound, not a thrilling one either. Just a sound. A thought borne on the air. A word on the breathless, darkened air. “Dexter.”

Coming to a stop, Dexter glanced round. Where to go? Where to look? More importantly, she decided, where to hide? Where was that voice coming from? “Hello?,” quietly Dexter asked the void. “Hello?,” then more forcefully, “What do you want?!!”

She ran back round toward the kitchen. The new kitchen. Feeling a little safer there than the older parts of the house, the foyer, the dining-living space, Dexter stilled, quieted her breathing. Looking round at the kitchen appliances, the walls, the sink, she could hear the plumbing seamlessly dripping away. Drip, drip, drip. She turned the sink knobs hard. The dripping continued. She sneered. Turning her head, Dexter willed herself to focus. That was when she heard it. Quiet, but soft, a deadly serious knocking against some small panel they hadn’t noticed before had begun. Whirling round the kitchen, this way, that way, as it knocked, knocked, knocked. 

Her heart skipped, her guts clenched, she wanted to vomit. Taking a polite, steady, frightened step toward the knock, Dexter looked down at the panel. Just a panel, no bigger than a two by three metal paneling bolted on a door. Another door, great. 

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Widening her eyes, taking a step back, her arms prickling up, “What’s there?,” Dexter whispered. “Dexter.,” came the whisper again. She couldn’t breath, yet her breath came and went in a thick, deep rattle. Approaching the panel with cautious trepidation, Dexter noticed the small panel was actually only a little rectangular shaped piece of metal, bolted onto the bottom of the door. Just a little cat trap she thought. Cute. A little whispering, scary, bolted down cat trap, somewhere in the back recesses of her mind, she thought reasonably. Looking up from the panel, Dexter noticed the doorknob, and almost yanked it open, wanting to yell. Yell at what she couldn’t fathom. However she wished to, she couldn’t. Starting to cry, to weep, not knowing what else to do or think, Dexter started to fastidiously scratch at her hands in nervousness. “What’s there?,” she whispered. “Dexter.,” it whispered back. Inside, she shrank.

Perhaps, “Lovey?,” she asked, half hoping to hear her friend’s familiar voice, convincing her this was just a stupid, messed up night. “Lovely, stop playing around. This isn’t fun anymore. Lovey? Hello?” Silence ensued. She couldn’t move.

                           ***********************************************

Lights suddenly went out! Darkness! 

A multitude of darkness came rifling through the house, startling, shaking Dexter in a panic. And with the dark, a sudden gush of cold, frigid air. Looking round, twirling, Dexter’s eyes couldn’t adjust fast enough. With some creaking, a loud shudder, the door with the silver, metal panel burst open, emitting a figure, an outstretched arm, hand, and pointed fingers. “Ahhhh!!,” Dexter screamed before it in abject horror, pity for her own life taking hold. She looked on in frozen terror at a darkened, foreboding figure. “Lovey!!,” Dexter screamed again. “Please! Where are you?!!” A look or horror glossed Dexter’s face, her pleadings came tripping over her words, thoughts. “No!!,” Dexter whimpered, a dawning realization coming from within her being, as the amber eyed, colossal figure slowly advanced toward her, a half maniacal look crossing her otherwise beautiful, soft, kindhearted features.

As it raised its’ arm, extending a slim, single finger behind itself, “She is waiting for you,” it suggested. It was more of a command. “Down there.” The female figure waited. It stared Dexter down, demanding a response, but giving no more words, only its’ perceived thoughts. Shaking her head rapidly, her hands, fingers folded over themselves, tucked up to her mouth, Dexter could not force herself to move, even if it was to look down into the depths of the opened doorway. A doorway which led to a never-ending, ebony abyss, with only a pin prick of light smoldering beneath the gloom above.

Holding Dexter’s terrorized gaze, the figure continued. “Down. There,” it again commanded. Lowering her eyes, lids shaded in obedience of sorts, Dexter managed to take three halting steps forward, peered down into the basement, sensing steps spiraling downward. “Do I want .. to see … what’s .. down there?,” she whispered, half looking, half cowering before the tall figure, shoulder up close to her ears.

The figure raised its’ chin, looked down severely, and stared while continuing to point in the direction of the dark. “Down. There,” it repeated. As Dexter heavily shifted her leaden feet forward, she peered down the stairs. When her eyes reached the bottom, when what she saw came slowly came into focus, Dexter began to see what appeared as a light colored, no a white colored hole. In that hole, something lush and green awaited. And on the lush greenness, lay Lovey. Dexter’s mouth opened. “ Lovey?,” she spoke, asked. Dexter called down that hole again asking more firmly, “Lovey!!” It was then the towering cloaked figure turned, and just as suddenly, gave a hefty shove to Dexter’s back and shoulders.

Clawing, kicking her way through the turbulent, thick ozone, Dexter finally descended down through a misty haze. Spilling through the haze, further falling, falling, hurtling towards the only tree within sight, Smacking against branch after exposed branch, tumbling, scratching against her limbs, Dexter thunked, thunked her way to the ground. Bruised but slightly, not so damaged, Dexter’s poor body rolled, abruptly coming to a stop and, she began to push herself off the dirt ground. As Lovey’s concerned face came into view. “Dexter?!,” she exclaimed. Then more firmly, “Dexter!” Falling quickly, “Aahhh!,” Dexter continued to scream, clawing at nothing but the thickened air.

Lovey clambered, rushing over, calmly at first then more forcefully, prodding her friend into alertness. “Dexter!,” she harshly whispered. “Dexter, what has happened to us?!”  “What didn’t happen?,” Dexter claimed herself, at first not realizing a thing, trying to sit, regain her breath, holding her head in hand, starting to stand. Her hands, limbs, beginning to shake terribly, from the fall as from the momentous turn of events. Now she truly noticed Lovey.

“Dexter,” Lovey hastily whispered. “We don’t have time to goof and talk. Come on, get up! Look around! We’re not at home anymore! Come on!,” and she helped her dazed beloved up. “What the … ,” Dexter exclaimed, grimacing, her limbs tired, sore, feeling out of whack. Her face turned to a grimace, pointing in the distance, “What the hell is that?”  Motioning Dexter away to some hopeful safety of a sudden nearby wooded glen, “Those look like Orcs Dexter,” Lovey soberly explained. “And those,” pointing in the opposite direction of riders with horns, arrows and golden armor, “Those look like elves.” Giving Dexter another good shove, and pull, “Come on. Let’s move. We’ve ended up someplace. And it’s not home anymore.” 

Looking up at the now empty, placid blue heaven above them, Dexter let Lovey drag her away from the upcoming skirmish, hiding themselves among lush, green and golden leaves and trees. “Seriously?,” Dexter considered, looking with perplexity upon Lovey’s calm but watchful gaze. “Yep. Home has been replaced by …. Middle Earth.” And they walked ever near some bewildering wooded, elven dwelling.  

They tell the tale of the old house just for fun these days, perhaps just to keep immature, locals from playing inside. Perhaps to keep kids from getting hurt on loose floor boards or whatnot. But still, the door with the little steel trap, had been barred, locked, nailed shut by someone. Or something.

Lovey’s Aunt? She was never found. And the two young women? Well, people say they ran off, eloped or something of that magnitude. Some say they were never there to begin with. Fact is, no one really knows. But every so often, someone goes into that house on a dare. Their friends wait outside for their return.

But no one has ever been known to come out. 

Ever. 

#Red's 900 followers campfire ghost stories challenge #Original Creepy Fiction #@little-red-83 #Based On A Semi True Account #Middle Earth #There Is No Return Ever #Rewritten 9-24-2019