Everyone Goes to Ellen's (G) (OC)
For the Saturday Picture Post at spnwriterlounge
Title: Everyone Goes to Ellen's
Author: Just Ruth
Disclaimer: Supernatural is the property of Eric Kripke and the CW. Characters/Situations are being borrowed for entertainment purposes only. You think anyone would pay me for this?
Rating: G
Genre: Gen
Word Count: 405
Characters/Pairings: Original Character (gender optional)
Warnings: AU
Summary: "Go to Ellen's, you'll find help"
Which pic(s) you used: Swamp, Full Moon, Jose Cuervo, Sam (gun), Dean (gun), Castiel
Notes: This is a style I've never written in before. Virtual black rose to anyone who guesses the trivia behind the title.
"Go to Ellen's," they'll tell you. "You'll find help."
Some say you can get there by following the road through the swamp outside Greenwood, Mississippi.
Others say take the dirt road that's just past the roofless chapel in Stull Cemetery, the one that's only visible when the moon is full.
Still other will give you directions from Fitchburg, Wisconsin or Saginaw, Michigan, or Pontiac, Illinois or Deadwood, South Dakota - it doesn't matter, if you need to get there, you will.
It won't look like much; a plain wooden structure with neon beer signs in the windows and a string of colored lights along the roof of the porch. If you look to the left of the porch, you'll see an older sign half-hidden in the yarrow and devil's shoestring that grows around the place. It says Lloyd's, but the modest sign that hangs now says "Ellen's."
If you go inside you will find prize-winning chili, melt-in-your-mouth apple pie and answers to questions you don't want to know. You can find help during business hours from brave men and women that battle things better left to legend and folklore. If you plan to stay past closing, you need to remember a few things: don't smart-talk the woman at the bar, don't challenge the blonde waitress to play Deer Hunter, don't let the guy with the mullet talk you into a game of pool, don't ask the blind woman in the corner for your fortune and never, NEVER pull up a chair at the corner table - the one with the plaque over it that says "Non Timebo Mala" with the circled stars. Only pull up a chair if you've tried everything else and all answers have failed and you think even God has turned his back on you.
Because they’ll come in the wee hours - the hours of the wolf that come just before dawn; they’ve been described as dark men, grim men. They aren’t. They’ll come in tired but after a beer, they’ll tease the bar tender and the waitress. They’ll trade jokes with the guy with the mullet and flirt shamelessly with the blind woman in the corner. Then they’ll tell stories - stories that are tragic and heroic and will chill your blood before they take their food and another beer over to the corner table.
If you pull up an extra chair - the table is set for three - you'd best be prepared to pay.
It won't be just the bottle of Jose Cuervo Especial, the bag of ground Italian roast and the quart of high-grad motor oil you put on the table (were you expecting graveyard dirt and a black cat bone?) that you'll pay with. If you're lucky it'll just be your peace of mind that you'll lose. If you're not; it could be your sanity or your life or if a man in a gray trench coat is sitting in the third chair - your immortal soul.
Title: Everyone Goes to Ellen's
Author: Just Ruth
Disclaimer: Supernatural is the property of Eric Kripke and the CW. Characters/Situations are being borrowed for entertainment purposes only. You think anyone would pay me for this?
Rating: G
Genre: Gen
Word Count: 405
Characters/Pairings: Original Character (gender optional)
Warnings: AU
Summary: "Go to Ellen's, you'll find help"
Which pic(s) you used: Swamp, Full Moon, Jose Cuervo, Sam (gun), Dean (gun), Castiel
Notes: This is a style I've never written in before. Virtual black rose to anyone who guesses the trivia behind the title.
"Go to Ellen's," they'll tell you. "You'll find help."
Some say you can get there by following the road through the swamp outside Greenwood, Mississippi.
Others say take the dirt road that's just past the roofless chapel in Stull Cemetery, the one that's only visible when the moon is full.
Still other will give you directions from Fitchburg, Wisconsin or Saginaw, Michigan, or Pontiac, Illinois or Deadwood, South Dakota - it doesn't matter, if you need to get there, you will.
It won't look like much; a plain wooden structure with neon beer signs in the windows and a string of colored lights along the roof of the porch. If you look to the left of the porch, you'll see an older sign half-hidden in the yarrow and devil's shoestring that grows around the place. It says Lloyd's, but the modest sign that hangs now says "Ellen's."
If you go inside you will find prize-winning chili, melt-in-your-mouth apple pie and answers to questions you don't want to know. You can find help during business hours from brave men and women that battle things better left to legend and folklore. If you plan to stay past closing, you need to remember a few things: don't smart-talk the woman at the bar, don't challenge the blonde waitress to play Deer Hunter, don't let the guy with the mullet talk you into a game of pool, don't ask the blind woman in the corner for your fortune and never, NEVER pull up a chair at the corner table - the one with the plaque over it that says "Non Timebo Mala" with the circled stars. Only pull up a chair if you've tried everything else and all answers have failed and you think even God has turned his back on you.
Because they’ll come in the wee hours - the hours of the wolf that come just before dawn; they’ve been described as dark men, grim men. They aren’t. They’ll come in tired but after a beer, they’ll tease the bar tender and the waitress. They’ll trade jokes with the guy with the mullet and flirt shamelessly with the blind woman in the corner. Then they’ll tell stories - stories that are tragic and heroic and will chill your blood before they take their food and another beer over to the corner table.
If you pull up an extra chair - the table is set for three - you'd best be prepared to pay.
It won't be just the bottle of Jose Cuervo Especial, the bag of ground Italian roast and the quart of high-grad motor oil you put on the table (were you expecting graveyard dirt and a black cat bone?) that you'll pay with. If you're lucky it'll just be your peace of mind that you'll lose. If you're not; it could be your sanity or your life or if a man in a gray trench coat is sitting in the third chair - your immortal soul.