Sam and Dean tromped into the supernaturally dense fog that had risen from the field, guns out, ears straining. Sam literally couldn’t see his hand when he held it up in front of his face. He kept position on Dean’s five by instinct. Sam heard his brother stumble and hit the ground. He froze, senses alert for any threat.
“Fuck!” Dean swore, sounding pained. “No, I’m not hurt, Sam. Just my freaking jeans.”
Better do some laundry tonight, Sam thought.
“Yeah, it’s your turn,” Dean agreed. “There’s something warm, wet, and slippery all over the grass … ugh, nasty.”
Sam heard a sudden, sharp yelp. "Dean!" “There’s something wrapping around my leg!” Dean yelled. Sam can hear Dean grunting, most likely as he hacks at whatever is wrapped around his leg.
Word Count 100 - sorry, I had to distract myself from writing tentacle pornkeerawaMarch 20 2011, 03:18:10 UTC
A disgusting smell came wafting through the fog. It stank like that house outside of Santa Barbara, the one they found when he was 17. A family of six had been massacred and then eaten. (Although Sam later suspected Dad might have lied - oni were rumored to eat their victims alive.) Nothing was left but smears and spatters, bone fragments and unidentifiable little chunks of meat. That would have been bad enough, but the family had been dead for at least a week in the summer heat -
“Get over here, Sam, and stop trying to make me puke!” Dean yelled.
100 words! XD (and yeah, totally went there)slinkymilinkyMarch 20 2011, 14:42:11 UTC
Sam jogged over to where Dean was struggling on the ground, his feet slipping where the grass was covered in a dark, viscous slime.
“Sorry Man,” He said kneeling beside his brother. Deans forearms were covered in the stuff, black and oily and around his ankle was wrapped - - “Wait...is that a...a...”
“-Tentacle? Ya think, Sherlock?!” Dean growled, digging his buck knife into the spongy looking feeler that seemed to be growing out of the ground.
“Stop thinking about that!” Dean yelled suddenly, “stop with the mental images!”
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“Fuck!” Dean swore, sounding pained. “No, I’m not hurt, Sam. Just my freaking jeans.”
Better do some laundry tonight, Sam thought.
“Yeah, it’s your turn,” Dean agreed. “There’s something warm, wet, and slippery all over the grass … ugh, nasty.”
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“There’s something wrapping around my leg!” Dean yelled. Sam can hear Dean grunting, most likely as he hacks at whatever is wrapped around his leg.
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“Get over here, Sam, and stop trying to make me puke!” Dean yelled.
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“Sorry Man,” He said kneeling beside his brother. Deans forearms were covered in the stuff, black and oily and around his ankle was wrapped -
- “Wait...is that a...a...”
“-Tentacle? Ya think, Sherlock?!” Dean growled, digging his buck knife into the spongy looking feeler that seemed to be growing out of the ground.
“Stop thinking about that!” Dean yelled suddenly, “stop with the mental images!”
“I can’t help it. Tentacles, Dude. Tentacles.”
Then the thing started pulling.
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