arachne97-blog

[arachne97-blog]

Don't End in Blood 1.2 This isn't Moria (Part 2)

“Shut up.” David stepped up and reached for the ledge with his left hand while clinging to the flashlight in his right. He grabbed the edge of the rocks above him and pulled, trying to eke out an extra few inches. David shone his light along the cover’s edge, the beam trembling rapidly from his shivers and Mike’s unstable surface.

The barrier didn’t fit the hole perfectly. An inch-wide sliver of space stood where the irregular rock failed to fill the hole. David caught a gleam of a puddle just outside the rock cover with his flashlight. He reached up and probed at the space with his hand, giving an experimental shove. The rock wall wasn't thick here, but it was still too much to shift at his awkward angle. He returned to checking the rock with his flashlight. “So, you knew about this stuff?” Suddenly, his footing was gone. He tried to cling to the wall with one hand but ended up sliding along the wall to the ground. “Dude! You didn't have to drop me.”

“You’re fine. What did you see?”

“Uh. No air vent per se. The cover doesn’t fit the wall, so it isn’t sealed. There’s some space on this side. Maybe we could move it with some leverage, but I don’t see how we could get the angle right from down here. You didn't answer my question.”

“Yeah. Let's find what tools we have here.”

David sighed and returned to the backpack while Mike emptied the pockets of a jacket he found in the corner. Mike pulled out two protein bars before trying to fit the jacket on. After some desperate attempts, he rolled the jacket in a ball and tossed it back in the corner. David glanced up from the backpack to see Mike’s shoulders slacken. “Before she died, Mom said she didn't want you to know about this stuff. You seemed to forget most of Dad's ghost stories, which worked for her. I mean, we weren’t helpless. She made sure we knew a little preventative stuff. Iron fixtures in every room. Those martial arts lessons and weapons training. The matching necklaces we could never take off. The Latin...”

“Wait. Mom said those activities could get us into college. Extracurriculars and languages and crap. And the necklaces and the iron are just superstitions. Good luck charms or something.”

“Good luck in that it stops you from being possessed by a demon--”

“Demons are real?”

“Let me finish. Mom kept us as innocent as possible. I guess she thought we'd be safe enough. Especially with Serena and her grandmother next door.”

“Wait? Is Serena--”

“She isn't a hunter. Not sure what she is. We haven't talked about it since Mom caught her showing me a picture of a werewolf when we were kids. Focus. There is something here that wants to eat us. Did you find anything in that bag or not?”

“Uh, waterproof matches, a mostly empty Sterno fuel can, some empty food wrappers... oh, a shovel.” David pulled out a hand trowel from the day hiker’s pack. “Not sure how useful it’ll be, though. It’s cheap. Picked to be light rather than sturdy.”

“Better than anything else I found. We have a couple of protein bars, but I’d rather us not be here long enough to need them. Here. Give me the shovel and a boost.”

David rubbed his gut and tried not to think about the sandwiches still on the counter at home. “Why do I have to give you the boost?”

“Because your twig arms aren’t going to be shifting anything.”

“Oh, but they’re strong enough to give you a boost.” David handed his brother the flashlight and shovel, then knelt with his hands cupped for Mike to climb. His older brother leaned to either side before he steadied himself with the ledge. The flashlight scraped on the rock ledge, and then Mike's shadow appeared to wedged the shovel in the crevice on the opposite wall. He felt Mike swaying as he pushed and shoved, and David almost dropped him at least twice before he hopped down. He’d left the shovel stuck in the crevice but brought the light.

“That is really stuck on there. We need a sturdier platform. Something with a longer handle would be good, too. Was there anything else in that bag?”

“Not really. I mean, there was a first aid kit, but otherwise no. I think they were dayhikers or something. They just had supplies for a short trip.”

“Great. Uh. Maybe we can pile some dirt or rocks or something. Make a ramp or a tower to climb up to the ledge?”

David gathered loose rocks and piled them as neatly as possible beside the wall while Mike searched for an extension for their lever. He found two nearly the size of his head with relatively flat edges to use as bases. Stacking them, he managed to build a small step. It wouldn’t work long, but it might support one of them long enough to shift the cover. “What about using one of these like a hammer? Get some percussive force going.”

Mike took the rock and clambered on top of the pile. He held on to the ledge with one hand. “Here. Shine the light up so I can see.”

David took the flashlight and stepped back to get at the right angle while Mike gave the shovel’s handle a few test taps. He pulled his arm back and slammed against the handle.

The shovel's handle gave a loud clack and fell away, its cheap steel giving way to a loud clatter. Mike stood staring at the now firmly wedged shovel head. “Crap.”

David picked up the largest chunk of the handle. “Now what?”

[arachne97-blog]

Don't End in Blood 1.2 This isn't Moria (Part 1)

The original chapter was too long to put on Tumblr, so it's going out in 2 parts.

Summary:

David Milner, a soon-to-be college freshman who has no clue about the Supernatural, finds himself tossed in a cave by a creature that looks a lot like an orc.

The road so far: As David and his older brother, Mike, had one of the worst days fishing of their lives. As they pack their Jeep to return home, Mike is snagged off into the bramble by a white streak. David follows after into the woods, only to be caught himself by a nightmarish monster. He is dragged into an abandoned copper mine and tossed into a dark pit.

Copper Falls Mine, MI, Aug 16, 2008 “Please tell me that isn’t you, idiot.” David felt someone’s hand grabbing his ankle in the dark. A dim light came from a tiny screen and lit Mike’s face before flashing around and blinding him. The flip phone lit a small beam that wasn’t ordinarily bright but felt sharp after the pure darkness. He forced himself into a sitting position and shifted off the oddly shaped pile of fabric he’d landed on. From the phone’s gleam, he could make out an orange day hiker’s backpack, complete with a now broken water bottle. He squinted back into the light. “Damn it. It is you.” Mike snapped the phone shut, launching them back into darkness. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you go for help?” “I’m, uh,” David put the bag back where he had found it and stared around, trying to make sense of the space around him, “I’m rescuing you.” He sheepishly felt his face burning despite the freezing temperatures. “Good job.”

“Turn the light back on. I can’t see.” “No shit you can’t see. And no. Gotta make the battery last. Did you at least bring your phone? I have no signal.” “Dropped it in the woods. You aren’t hurt, are you?” “No. You?” “Couple of bruises. You gave me worse for ratting on you to Mrs. G. the last time you broke curfew.” David patted the floor, checking for obstacles before crawling toward Mike’s voice. “Where are we?” “I think this is one of the old mines. One of the abandoned ones that died when the towns gave out. I explored the pit we’re in a little earlier. It’s not that deep, but I still can’t climb out. Even if I could, the... thing put a rock in front of the entrance.” “You mean the orc?”

“What? No. Listen, we have a real problem here, and I don’t remember enough to get us out of it.” David heard shuffling from where he had last seen his brother before the light flicked back on. Mike’s phone sat between them, screen side up and giving off a dim glow. “What do you mean, remember?” He wasn’t proud of how shaky his voice sounded. He pulled his bare arms into his shirt for warmth. “Mom told me not to talk about it. She didn’t want either of us to end up like Dad.” “Mike. Back to earth, dude. What’s going on?” “There are things out there. Things like what took us. Monsters, spirits, ghosts. And there are people out there who hunt them. Mom and Dad were hunters before we came along.” David only had vague memories of his father. A tall man sitting by his bed, telling him stories that made him shake and hide under his blanket. Dirty glasses looking down in disapproval when he wasn’t as fast or as strong as his brother. A shiny badge and a gun that was too big for his tiny hands. The need to impress, and the surety he couldn’t. “You realize how crazy you sound, right?” “Crazier than a frickin’ creature from a fantasy book coming to life and dragging you to a copper mine? It’s real, David.” “Why didn’t we grow up hearing about all this?” “Mom didn’t want us turning into little vampire slayers, so she made Dad promise to raise us normal. He kept his word until her back was turned. Then he'd tell us a ghost story and teach us to fight. I’ll tell you later. But we have to piece together what we can to get out of here first.” “You know what? No. You expect me to go along with all this bullshit about X-files creatures, and all I’ve seen so far is an incredibly pale, incredibly insane guy kidnap us. I’m tired of not knowing what’s going on.” Mike ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “Look. I agree. Mom and I weren’t straight with you, and maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He held up a hand to stop David from interrupting. “It certainly wasn’t fair. And, yeah, I had opportunities to fill you in and didn’t. That’s on me. But we need to focus on what’s in front of us. Just for now. Ok? I promise I’ll fill you in when we’re back home and drinking PBR.” David took a deep breath and tried to push his frustration aside for the moment. “Fine. You’re explaining the second we get home. What kind of... thing do you think we’re dealing with?” Mike snatched up his phone and shone the light on the ground, searching for something. “I think I remember something about a tall, pale monster living in caves. Something to do with winter. I just can’t remember what it’s called or how to deal with it.” “So you remember what we already know and don’t remember what we don’t. Helpful.” “You could be trying a bit harder here too. I know Dad left when you were four, but he was telling you the same bedtime stories. In the meantime, make yourself useful and look through that bag. Maybe there’s something we can use in there.” “Yeah. Yeah.” David felt along the backpack. Empty food wrappers crinkled in his hands when he dug into the main pouch. A thin metal tube lay under a mildewed cloth of some kind. “Score. I found a flashlight, some of those thermal blankets, even a raincoat. Here.” He tossed Mike a packet of blankets and pulled on the raincoat. It was small enough he couldn’t zip it, and the sleeves ended several inches above his wrists, but his arms would be warmer. Mike pulled out a shiny metal blanket and draped it over his shoulders like a cloak. David turned the flashlight on, revealing a clearer view of their surroundings. A collection of rocks of various sizes and shapes littered the ground. Steep stone and dirt walls rose in a ring to a rough ceiling supported by timbers. The walls were broken by a narrow ledge that was barely out of reach. Behind it appeared to be the entrance. David would have to hunch down to slip through, but he could make it. If it hadn't been plugged by a large rock. What stood out most about their little prison was the reddish-brown vertical streaks along the wall with the ledge. “Is that?”

[arachne97-blog]

Don't End in Blood 1.1 Blue Gill

Summary:

David Milner can't believe one of his last days of freedom before school starts was wasted on this fishing trip. All day in the hot sun for two stupid bluegill. As he helps his older brother, Mike, load the car, something yanks Mike into the darkening woods leaving David to pursue.

Copper Falls Lake, MI Aug 16, 2008

David Milner was positive the only reason older brothers existed was to annoy their younger siblings. That would explain why he was starving, sunburned, and covered with so many bug bites he might as well have had chickenpox. He strained to haul his side of the boat out of the lake without stepping farther into the water. “I still say we should have gone out deeper.” He stumbled over the dirt launch and tried not to trip over any offending roots or rocks.

For some reason, David was always stuck walking backwards across the small ad hoc parking lot to the edge of the tree line where Mike inevitably parked the Jeep. Their nearly empty bucket of bluegill, their tiny catch of the day, sat on the ground next to the tackle box and cooler, fueling his annoyance. The cooler had been mostly empty all day because someone had failed to transfer the sandwiches from the counter that morning. Not that Mike would admit it had been his job.

He had at least remembered the PBR and pop, though. “Two lousy bluegill and a largemouth bass-- that did not live up to its name—are not worth the bug bites.” He grunted, hoisting his end higher.

“It's your own fault. You think DEET on its own will prevent those vampires from sucking you dry.” Mike tugged on his thin, long-sleeved shirt with his free hand. David rolled his eyes at the annoying superiority only an older brother can manage. “You need layers, kid. Or even just a backwards ball cap. See? No burn on my neck. You did it to yourself.”

David shoved his glasses up his sweaty nose with the back of his wrist, almost dropping his side of the boat. “If we went deeper, we would have been away from the bugs."

“I told you. This lake is shallow. And I’m not going out to the island. I lost my lucky lure out there.”

Between the mosquitos, black flies, and sunburn, he would be scratching all night. It had been Mike's idea to have one last impromptu fishing trip before classes started at Michigan Tech. The last hurrah had been a bust, but at least they had spent the day on the water.

They loaded the boat, more fiberglass patch than aluminum, on top of Mike's Jeep. David returned to grab the fish, emergency kit, useless cooler now filled with empty PBR and pop cans, oars, rods, and tackle box while Mike finished securing it.

David bumbled the oars and equipment toward the car. “Why did we even bring the kit? It’s not like we’ll need a flare gun on a lake I could swim across.”

“I’m enforcing a habit. If we have it on the little lakes, we’ll remember to grab it on the big ones and won’t get in trouble with the Coast Guard.”

The woods around them took on an eerie twilight look where colors dimmed to shades of brown. The grass, dried brown by the August sun, stood stock still in the breezeless heat. The moment lay before him like one of those photographs of the end of summer tourists bought from cheap shops. The dark and green lakewater had stilled as nature seemed to hesitate.

He plopped the gear in a heap at the back of the car and breathed in the lake moss and mold, fish and dirt, summer and nearly come autumn. The only noises were his brother struggling to fasten the boat. Before the area had been surrounded by the whining and croaking of nature. “It’s kinda quiet. Where are the crickets?”

“You watch too many horror shows.”

“Seriously. I think something's up with the weather. Maybe there’s a storm coming or something.”

“Whatever. I guess it’s a good thing we’re heading back now, right? Text Serena and let her know we’re on the way.”

David tossed the fish bucket on the floor of the passenger back seat. The two bluegill flopped in protest, reminding him of the pathetic catch. He scratched at the bites on his neck, then pulled out his phone from his back pocket. As he texted their adoptive sister, Mike’s feet crunched on the gravel as he walked behind the Jeep to grab the last load.

“What the hell?”

David looked up to see a huge and pale something flash from the other side of the parking lot, tackle Mike, and vanish into the darkening bramble of woods past the car. He’d almost caught a glimpse of gnarled, lengthy arms and dark, worn pants before it was gone. It was almost as if the blur and his brother had teleported. “Mike?”

He hesitated, hand clenching on his phone with a thumb ready to press the nine. He should call for help. There might even be enough of a connection for a voice call. Earlier, his phone had found a signal in the middle of the lake, the small body of water acting like a satellite dish. There was still barely enough signal here on the shore.

No. No way he was going to wait for the police to arrive and organize a search party. Not this far out from town. He dashed into the woods.

Thorny vines grabbed at his legs and shorts. Low-growing trees and bushes snatched his sleeves and dug into his arms. A hooked root clasped his foot, causing him to faceplant onto a rotten trunk. The sharp pain in his cheek said he would have a shiner in the morning.

He took a moment to catch his bearings. No visible tracks were on the ground, but David was sure he’d heard the creature go this way. He searched for any sign, remembering the lessons Mike had given him during the past few deer hunting seasons. Finally, he looked up. Strange slashes bounced from tree to tree, leading deeper into the thicket. They were almost like the claw marks of an enormous hand.

David clambered to his feet. He had to keep moving while he still had the light. Too much later and he would lose any chance of seeing the marks. The gathering darkness led him to pull out his phone, flip it open, and turn on the light. Moving more carefully after the previous headlong rush, he jogged toward the direction of the tracks. He had to find his brother quickly and decide what to do about whatever had grabbed him later.

He’d heard of wolves in the area, but even if one decided to attack a human, it would run along the ground, not in the trees. Perhaps there was some sort of albino bear or--

Or nothing. The air from a deep breath shoved the adrenaline back down. He had tracks to follow, and he had to find his brother. A soft rustle and a cry out of his light’s reach broke the silence.

“Help!” The cry moved to the left from the path of marks. David dashed toward the call.

Right into what felt like a tree. His eyes followed the sight of bony flesh and emaciated ribs to a skull wrapped in paper-thin skin. He stared up at a pale face framed by two almost antler-like elongated ears. Red eyes blazed hungrily from a gaunt face marred with frostbite scars. Sharpened fangs peeked out from a lipless maw oozed drool.

David tried to reconcile what he saw with what he knew from nature. In his confusion, he could have sworn he was looking at a ten-foot-tall version of an orc from The Lord of the Rings.

Fire slashed through David's arm as he was yanked upwards and pulled through the woods at an impossible speed. The man or orc or whatever it was, leaped through the trees over rotting trunks and under snarled branches, causing David to slam against a large limb. His phone toppled to the ground as spots swam across his vision.

The creature hesitated momentarily, giving David a slight reprieve from whipping branches and scraping twigs. He struggled, but the thing's hold was impossibly firm. It shifted its grip, holding David under one arm. As he was pressed against its icy torso, the stench of sweat, mold, and rotting flesh shoved its way down his nostrils. He could hear the creatures’s joints crackling like ice at the end of a long winter. Then, the bombardment of branches began again as the thing launched itself over the rough terrain. The charm around his neck, a memento from his mother, swung up and smacked him on the bottom teeth.

David’s arms and legs swung back and forth. Vertigo fought him as he kept one arm over his head, trying to hold his glasses in place and not let passing branches smack him into unconsciousness. He used his other arm to try and break the creature’s grip.

He wasn’t sure how much more of the borage he could take without puking when the monster slid to the ground on the side of a rocky hill. David twisted, nearly sliding free when the creature moved two wooden boards covering a man sized hole, only to have it grip him tighter. The creature dragged David in through the dark and cold.

The monster rushed through a sea of rapidly cooling air. David watched the creature’s shadow, half hunched as it raced along, until it blended into the darkness on the wall. All light vanished as he was dragged along deeper.

They rounded corners, and he lost track of the turns in the labyrinth. He couldn’t see anything, and even if he could, he couldn’t escape or break the creature’s grip.

Panic crushed at him as tightly as the monster’s arm. There was no light, no way to gain a sense of direction. He had no way of preparing for the sudden jumps as the creature dodged obstacles or the soaking he received when it forded an icy underground stream, causing him to sputter and choke.

At one point, the beast twisted around a bend, its cargo’s legs slamming into a wall of rock and dirt. The weight of the tunnels and earth, of the stale air and darkness, pressed in while the inexorable creature kept pace. David could have sworn he smelled pennies, but the creature's stench confused everything.

Eventually, however, David felt it slow to a crawl. He could feel his captor shift its weight low to the ground as if it were shoving aside something in its way with a loud scrape. The thing lifted him backward in one arm, and he felt himself tossed underhanded into the darkness.

He hung in the air without knowing how far he had to fall. It was both not as far as he feared and further than he hoped. When he crashed down, discombobulated, he landed on a surprisingly soft surface. Nothing seemed to be broken, although he felt something crunch under him. Stone scraped sound above, leaving him in the dark and damp.

Hi. This is the beginning of a series that's been in my head for years.

I appreciate all comments and suggestions.

[arachne97-blog]

Don't End in Blood Intro

Hi. I've been writing and posting a series on AO3 for a while now. I'm going to start posting it here as well. Here is the series summary. I'll post one chapter per day until we catch up to AO3, then I'll post once a week on the same schedule

These are the tales of David Milner and Serena Gochenour. David Milner comes from a long line of hunters. Fourteen years ago, his father disappeared. His mother retired from the life, bringing her two young sons with her the Upper Penisula of Michigan. She sets up a new life as a local sheriff and raises her sons to be civilians.

Unfortunately, a local wendigo had other notions, capturing the two boys on a fishing trip and dragging them into an abandoned copper mine. Rescued by their adoptive sister, Serena, David turns to the supernatural to recover what he lost in the mine.

Updated every Saturday at 11pm EST. Told in 5 chapter long arcs

[arachne97-blog]

Shower Thought: Supernatural can be boiled down to a Shakespearean style play (Spoilers ahead. I'm using the season 15 flair bc you needed to have seen the whole show)

I orginally posted this to reddit then thought to add it here.

This morning I was thinking about the ending to the show and how you sometimes don't know if a piece of literature will be a tragedy or a comedy until the end. My English major self immediately flashed back to a couple of Shakespearean plays that read like comedies until you get past the climax or even until the final scene. I started doing some comparisons, and oh my Chuck, but the writers accidentally created a Shakespearean story.

I fully acknowledge this was a shower thought, and the writers didn't do this on purpose. The original show was not supposed to last 15 seasons so... this is the ramblings of an under caffeinated 30 year old lit nerd praying at least one other lit nerd is on here to comment/ add to this madness.

My reasoning. The overall structure of the show. Shakespeare's plays were five acts (Exposition, Rising Action, Climax, Falling Action, and Denouement.) Not the only guy to do that, but definitely his signature move. Pretty classic story structure.

Act 1: Season 1-3. Introduce to the world. Sam and Dean come together to find their dad. Get Sam hooked on demon blood. Start the apocalypse. Firmly settle the brothers in hunting.

Act 2: Seasons 4-6. Rising action. fight the apocalypse. Settle the status quo with the Sam Dean brother bon. Introduce Sam's trauma (time in Hell) and foreshadow what I will argue to be the climax by soulless Sam not bringing Dean back into hunting.

Act 3: Seasons 7-9 the climax. Climaxes are the moment in a story that redefine the plot. They change everything. And I argue that Sam hitting that dog was the climax. Because he hit the dog, he never looked for Dean. This caused Dean to distrust Sam when he gets back from purgatory. Sam's shame/ need to make it up to Dean influences his decision to take on the angel trials, nearly killing him. Because Dean couldn't let his brother die, he rescues and lies to Sam. Sam finds out about the whole Gadreel possession situation, and they argue, which is when Dean gets the mark of Cain, which leads to Demon Dean.

Act 4: Falling Action- deals with the crap from climax. Seasons 10-12. Dean's brought back from being a demon, we learn Sam did some dark shit while Dean was away. Enter the Darkness. and Chuck pops back in for a sec. Mary returns All of this would have been very different without the climax- Sam choosing to not search for Dean.

Act 5: Denouement. Returning us back to the status quo. Seasons 13-15. Mary's death results in the fights with Jack. Chuck shows up, gets mad the boys won't cooperate and throws a temper tantrum. Dean meets a piece of rebar. Sam enters the next period of his life alone (just like college years). He finds a different girl and manages to settle down before rejoining Dean.

I could go even more into how this show is a masterpiece/ has Shakespearean elements. Sam is the classic hero as defined by Joseph Campbell, the style of humor, even the occasional anachronism, all fit Shakespeare. But I have to go to work, and I've rambled about Shakespeare to a bunch of SPN fans for long enough lol.