Like Father Like Son

Title: Like Father Like Son
Fandom: Supernatural
Set after the season 1 finale. Not a whole 'how the first episode of season 2 should go' story. Just a short little one shot based VERY loosely on spoilers from the Director's Cut Supernatural video at http://cwtv.com/video. This is definitely not how it's going to work out in the season premiere on Thursday.

Sam stood by his father's hospital bed, only a few scratches on his face to show for the run in with the semi that had crushed Dean's beloved Impala and put both Dean and John in the hospital.

John and Sam were engaged in an almost ritual yelling spree, while Dean stood by, shouting at them to stop fighting, though it seemed neither Sam nor John could hear his protests.

John was in the middle of one of his 'you-should-have-shot-me-because-if-you-had-Dean-would-be-okay' rants, and Dean was yelling at his father that killing him wouldn't have helped, when Sam finally gave up trying to listen to both of them. "Would you just shut up!!"

"Who me?" Both John and Dean answered in unison. Both looked quite suprised at the idea of being told to shut up.

"Both of you."

"'Both of you'? I'm the only one here Sam." John told him. "Who else are you telling to shut up?"

"Dean. Dean's here." Sam could not honestly think of another time that his father had been speechless.

Dean threw his arms up in the air. "Come on man. We had a deal. You tell Dad you can see me and I don't tell him that you let the nurses take my necklace off."

"We never made a deal, Dean, and I couldn't have stopped those nurses if I'd tried. I was unconscious at the time!"

"What are you talking about?" John seeing his son speaking to an empty corner of the room was a bit disconcerting.

"Nothing."

^*^*^*^*^

That's all for now. Tune in later for something new and exciting.

Creative Writing Group

I'm doing a creative writing group at my school. And I'll be posting all the works that come of it here. They're mostly short stories written from a prompt.

What if God had a telephone number?

"What a joke," I grumble to myself. I look to the slip of paper again and dial the number into my phone: 486-463-4373 (HVN-GOD-HERE). Raising the phone to my ear I listen as it rings...and rings. I shift and my sneakers squeak on the kitchen floor.

A deep voice greets my ears. "You've reached God. At the moment I'm working on a big problem in a small middle eastern country you've probably never heard of. Call back later or leave a message and I'll try to send you a sign in your lifespan--BEEP!"

I slammed the phone back into its cradle, hoping that I would wake up from this twisted dream.

No such luck.

I stood still in my kitchen looking between the phone and the piece of paper Liz had written the number.

I picked up the phone carefully, hoping I hadn't broken it, and speed dialed Liz.

"Hello." The voice was familiar.

"Hi Mrs. Morgan. This is Beth. Is Liz there?"

"Yes." I heard her call of "Liz!" through the phone.

Another line picked up and I thanked Mrs. Morgan for her time.

After the click of the first line disconnecting I started my rant. "How did you get that number? Who would set up a prank like that? When did..." I trailed off and took a deep breath.

"I get the number from an e-mail. I don't know who sent it. Why?"

"Did you call it?" I asked impatiently.

"No, I haven't had the time." She replied defensively.

"I got God's answering machine!"

"What?!"

"Yeah."

"Wow." Her voice was soft. It was weird, at least we agreed about that.

^*^*^*^*^

Write about a bimbo.

As soon as she walked in I knew. She was not like the rest of the girls here. I could tell by the way she walked that she was confident in herself. Her short shirt looked tight enough to cut off circulation.Her low riding jeans showed off the shape of her long legs. In the dark lighting of the club I could see how bright her emerald green eyes glowed. Her posture was self-assured as she sat down at the bar.

I couldn't hear her conversation with the bartender, but soon enough the bartender, all 5 ft. 4 of him, placed a pink drink with accompanying umbrella in front of her.

"Thank you." I heard her say, her voice high and her smile kind.

I decided it was time to make my move and pushed through the crowd of people to the bar. I slid gracefully into the barstool next to hers. I looked to the bartende, "I'll have a beer."

"I've never seen you in here before." I remarked to the beautiful woman.

"Yeah. This really isn't my scene."

"Oh yeah?" I probed, hoping for her to continue.

"I've been a model since I dropped out of high school. I want to be an actress. I was in the movie "Bob" you know? It was my big break."

"I loved that movie,"--I lie--"who were you?"

"Well I didn't really have a character. I was the one that screamed off-screen for the females."

"Really." I nodded. She was like a Barbie, mind and body. Perfect. A grin played on my face.

^*^*^*^*^

A girl carries one important thing with her, a pack of crayons. Why?

Her mother watched as she pulled on her shoes, slowly nut surely tying the laces. At six years old Amili was a bundle of energy.

"Come on, Am, we're going to be late."

"My name s'not Am, it's Amili!" She corrected her mother.

"Oh of course, I'm sorry. Here, put on you're coat. It's raining." She held out the coat so her daughter could quickly slip into it. Instead Amili pulled the rain slicker out of her mother's grasp and struggled into it on her own. "Good job. Let's go." She held the door open.

"Wait!" She darted down the hall and her mother barely heard the "I 'most forgot" that came down the hallway. A small crash came from Amili's bedroom quickly followed by a "I'm okay!!" Her came running back down the hall. A familiar box-shaped lump pushing against the fabroc of her pocket.

"Ready?"

"Yes, Mommy!"

"Let's go!" They left the house for the car and she hoped that someday her independant little girl would forget the one day she had forgotten to bring crayons with the coloring books.

^*^*^*^*^

That's it for writing. When I started writing the second one I didn't know where I was going with it, then halfway through I thought up the Barbie line and had to find a way to fit it in. By the end I was writing the female as ditzy as I could and the 'I' character as Dean Winchester of Supernatural. I think it works.

My next project for myself is to write some prompts using Skye Kittering and Drake Robbins as characters. I have some ideas for them, but I think putting them into timed prompt writing might help to make the solid characters.

The new season of Supernatural starts next Thursday, Sept. 28 at 9pm on The CW. I'm so excited!!!!!

Two Guided Writings

Two guided writing things I did.

What color is the sky?

The sky is blue, except when it's stormy, then the sky is a dark, cloudy gray color. And when there's a rainbow the sky is filled with many colors: red, blue, green, orange, purple.
The sky is above us because it is. There's probably a scientific reason, but I don't know it. Who get's to decide what to name things? How did they get that job? Sky is a cool word. Could be a cool name. I have gone off into complete randomness. But I'll keep writing. Duck duck duck duck duck. There'a a story behind that.
My sister, my best friend and I made up hand motions to all the songs on Kelly Clarkson's CD "Breakaway". We were all in the back of a car at the time and kept hitting each other in the face. Kelly Clarkson!! There are multiple stories behind that one.
But the answer to life, the universe and everything is 42, which, coincidentally, is my best friend's parking spot number here at MTA. So, the is not blue. The sky is, in fact, 42.

^*^*^*^*^

Prompt: Start and finish a short story with a character walking through the woods.

Every morning I start the day with a walk, and have been doing so for at least a decade. Where I walk has always depended on where I live. When I lived in my small, dark apartment in New York my walks were around the block my building was in and to the small office where I worked. After that I lived in a small, upper class neighborhood in Schaumburg, Illinois. My walks were around the neighborhood and to the parks nearby. Now the place I call home is this cabin in the woods, and every morning I walk the paths: around my cabins, and the lake. It's quiet up here, far from the main road. Only the sounds of birds, squirrels and other animals break the silence. I don't get lonely though, with Maddie to walk with me. The perfect companion. She listens to me and never talks back. Always ready to walk with me in the morning. Our ritual walk through the woods.

School Returns

School is back full time now. Classes, homework, teachers, high school drama, the whole nine yards. I really have have to get back into writing. Writing is like a release for me. I have to find a time to do it between sleep, school, girl scouts, extra-curricular activities, homework and television.

I'm getting braces on tomorrow. Kinda nervous.

I found a site just recently that has stuck with me: http://fate.rooniverse.net/. The site is the home for this person's virtual television show. The basic idea is that you make up characters and write stories in script form. I don't know why it's stuck with me, but it has and I want to try it. In the case of Fate (the site at the address above), the writer is writing scripts with Dawn Summers (of Buffy the Vampire Slayer) as the/a main character.

I think that's it for now. I'm kinda late for bed and I have to get myself up and to the orthodontist tomorrow.