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Thread: Hypnosis [Original fic/Supernatural]

  1. #1
    Join Date
    Feb 2005
    Madison Square Garden

    Default Hypnosis [Original fic/Supernatural]

    Hey, all... there's so much amazingly delicious drama here that I had to involve myself. And meanwhile, I started writing something, so it works perfectly.

    This was supposed to be for NaNo, but I epically phailed at that, so it's on my own time, I guess... I'd really like to finish it.

    The chaptering is ridiculously strange. I have no idea how to break it up properly, so the breakoffs are kind of arbitrary... I tried to do it at Important and Significant intervals, and keep related bits together... but meh. I'm weird and I can't write something normal.

    Anyway, woohoo.



    The hardest thing to pinpoint may just be where it all started. It could have started when they met, or when he moved out. One might say it began when she found it, others might say it was when she became enamored with it. And yet, for our purposes, it was none of these.

    It started when Abby walked down the basement stairs tentatively, as if one might collapse underneath her if she stepped to hard or quickly. It was a terrifying journey for a ten-year-old, this one into the bowels of the house. The light switch was inexplicably at the bottom of the stairs, and the light streaming in from the window at the top of the stairwell cast a strange gray-blue glow over everything she could see.

    She jumped over the last few steps and dashed toward the light. As it switched on and nothing jumped out at her she exhaled strongly, relieved. The basement area was oddly small, and most of the house's underbelly was only accessible via cramped crawlspaces. Boxes with various labels-- Christmas, Halloween, baby stuff, pictures-- were piled along the walls. The box Abby beelined toward was unlabeled; the 'junk box,' they called it. She clawed through it, tossing things she was uninterested in across the floor. They barely used the basement, and if someone else came down they would clean up, not her.

    The things were generally small, but there were some larger ones, though she wasn't paying particular attention to the things she tossed aside. So, when one object met the cement floor with a striking crash and shatter, she nearly jumped inside the box for cover. Once she identified the object-- a picture frame whose glass had shattered-- she quickly went to work covering her tracks. The fear of getting in trouble with her mother was much more real than that of monsters in the closet.

    She stretched her sleeves over her hands, corralled the glass shards into a pile, and pushed them into a small space in between two boxes... safely out of sight. She picked up the frame a stuffed it into the bottom of a nearby box, covering it with old Christmas decorations and wires whose use had long been forgotten. It took a while for her to locate the photograph that had been inside; the black and white picture blending in with the gray floor. She didn't know what it was and didn't bother to look. Soon enough it had been pushed underneath some crate and Abby was sprinting up the stairs, away from the darkness of the basement.


    Claire and Bryan had been childhood friends. Their parents had been friends, and their siblings had been friends. As time passed and everyone grew older, the families did drift apart, but these two always remained in touch. When Lori was born, Bryan attended the Christening. When Claire got divorced, Bryan helped her move into a more reasonable house. When night school, forty hour workweeks, and two young children became too much, Bryan went as far as to move in with the women-- something platonic, temporary, and much appreciated.

    The boxes had been stacked meticulously in the living room. There were neat piles, each one the same height. Claire stood and surveyed her work. It had been nothing but procrastination, really; she still had no true plan for where to put all of her friend's things in the small house. She had moved the girls into a shared room, something they had been oddly receptive to, and given Bryan Lori's old room. Yet even so, now there were doubles of things... simple things such as toasters, and more daunting ones such as furniture. She considered selling the stuff, but a garage sale would bring in a few hundred dollars and the most, and besides, what if the ever needed new furniture? A new toaster? She would be thankful to not have to spend money on something new.

    In the long run, it seemed better to keep as much as she could of the practical things. Yet just because this was the best decision in her eyes did not make it the simplest. Stashing everything in the modestly sized basement seemed the most viable option, but would also require massive organization of her extraneous things. So she stood, staring, trying to decide whether or not it was worth it.

    Eventually, Bryan walked in, back from returning the truck. “Hey. So, any decisions?” He eyed the neat stacks and rows incredulously.

    She took a deep breath. “Yup. It's going to the basement. But we'll have to organize things down there a little, first.”

    This was easier said than done. Upon getting down into the dirty and dusty basement, they discovered boxes that were empty, rotting, half full, and full of things Claire did not even remember she had. So many things had to be thrown away and so much completely redone and cleaned that the task seemed completely unreasonable. But once it was under way, Claire thought it was equally insane to stop right in the middle.

    Bryan's boxes sat in their assigned places for a while, but eventually came there turn to be sorted, consolidated, and moved. Claire thought it would make more sense to sort through the things before bringing them downstairs, something that would hopefully lessen their load. Bryan, however, was insistent that everything be brought down, and that he be allowed to go through it at his leisure. They were personal things, Claire recognized, and it would be less work for her, so she hastily agreed to this arrangement.


    The television flashed images and cast strange shadows on the wall. Claire tried to block the noise and light out and concentrate on her work. It had been a completely idiotic decision, she lamented over and over, to drop out of college to get married. If they had waited, she would have a degree and a better job. Maybe they would have realized they would just divorce anyway. Hell, she could have stayed in school after the marriage. It would have been a strain financially, but a much more intelligent decision in the long run.

    But no matter how much she went through what her options were then, that did not change where she was. Brain exhausted, she tossed her pencil down and leaned back in the chair to stretch. She was done; the daydreaming and wishful thinking was her mind's white flag. Perhaps putting the girls to bed would recharge he a little. Probably not, but she had to do it and pegging it as something cathartic made it seem appealing.

    The girls' beds had been pushed together as far as they would go. There was only room for the necessary things; two dressers sat in the only possible places the would fit, facing at odd angles. The walls were a muted pink, and the paper border near the ceiling was peeling. Claire didn't have the initiative to fix it, and besides, the girls were getting a little old for fairy tales anyway. A cork message board had grades and drawings and news clippings tacked on haphazardly. Over their respective beds hung wooden letters: ABIGAIL on the right near the closet, and LORELEI on the left near the door.

    The girls knew the method well, and their mother being there was something they were used to more than something they needed. Eight-year-old Lori had been jumpy lately, some nights insisting a night light be turned on, but she had always been easily spooked. One bad dream could mean weeks of sleeping with a light on. Claire used to come in after she fell asleep to turn it off and save power, but Lori started to wake up during the night, horrified that the light had been shut. So on it went.

    The girls said goodnight to their mother and let her shut the door behind her as she walked out of the room. As soon as her footsteps faded, Lori breathed heavily and Abby turned to her. “What'd you tell her for why you're scared?”

    Lori stared at the ceiling blankly. “I had a bad dream,” she answered mater-of-factly.

    “Anything else?”

    “No.” She flipped over harshly, facing away from her sister now, and attempted sleep.

    Lori woke up. The clock flashed 3:47 in her face. The bright red light hit her eyes and she winced. It took a second for it to register with her that the light in the room had been shut off. Terrified, she slowly made her away across the two beds and snuggled up next to her sister. She lay there, awake, until the sun started to come up and the room was light again.

    Abby stirred. She tried to roll over, but her sister had migrated during the night, and she almost rolled on top of her. “What are you doing?” she demanded, annoyed.

    Lori jumped a little, then surveyed the room. “The light went out.”

    “Mom came in and turned it off. I heard her.” She shoved her sister, trying to regain her space.

    “No she didn't. You're just saying that.” Lori slid into the space between the two twin beds, clutching her stuffed rabbit.

    “No, I'm not. I heard the door open and shut, and it woke me up. I got up and the light was off. I even heard her walk back to her room. So chill out.” With another defiant push, Abby separated the beds and rolled over to get more sleep.

    dragon quill
    because modern media sucks

    livejournal facebook fanfiction

    'Don't be so modest, you're not that great.'

  2. #2


    I always like I don't have to force myself to read your writing. It's like pesto pizza! It pracitically eats itself!

    I don't have much worthwhile to say about it though. You have some interesting charecterization, but, even with the whole 'supernatural' tag, i can only guess where the story is going at this point. Mechanically, I thought I saw an awkward sentance when I read it, but I can't find it now, but otherwise, there don't seem to be any problems.

    I'll definitily be making an effort to keep up with this!
    I'm not here
    (This isn't happening)

    Slipstream - A Cherry Red Gibson

  3. #3
    Join Date
    Feb 2005
    Madison Square Garden



    Having Bryan around was a double-edged sword for the girls. On one hand, he was not their father who they missed dearly. On the other, they had known them their whole lives and her very adeptly took on the parental role. He slowly became more prominent in their lives than even their mother, who went to work before the woke up for school and was constantly stressed and on edge. Everything was a hassle, and they avoided her lest they feel like a burden.

    However, Claire did become concerned when the light stayed on. That is, usually Lori's fear would subside within a few weeks if not less, and soon enough the light would be back off, and things running normally. Yet after three months the electric bill reminded her that the light hadn't gone off.

    And Lori refused to turn it off. She reacted harshly whenever her mother brought it up and, when Claire finally insisted she just try one night with it off, Lori burst into tears. This perplexed and upset Claire on many levels, mostly because her daughter adamantly refused to discuss whatever it was that was scaring her so badly.

    The light stayed on, but for the most part every thing else continued as normal. Sooner or later everyone feel into a daily routine and began passing their time much in the way they had before the divorce and move. Yet things were jarred again when Bryan's mother became ill, and he was forced to move several towns over to help care for her.

    Bryan spent most of his time in the basement after this news came, sorting through his things and figuring out what to take and what to leave. Lori enjoyed helping everyone, and it seemed to take her mind off things. She took it upon herself to provide refreshments to Bryan during his long hours in isolation, and his appreciation, whether honest or not, comforted her.

    The tray was almost longer than the span of her small arms, so she had to move slowly and very deliberately as she made her way down the stairs. One false move and the glass would slide, swishing and spilling, possibly contaminating the snacks. Each step was a battle. One stair at a time she inched forward, her small legs stubbornly balancing her as she wobbled and contorted. She knew how many stairs there were, and she counted on her way down so she could focus her immediate attention on the tray.

    Five... six... A loud noise. She looked up and scanned the basement. Bryan had dumped the contents of one of the boxes all over the floor. He tossed the container thoughtlessly to the side, and Lori craned her neck to see if it had been labeled. It was their junk box, full mostly of old toys. More intrigued than afraid, she quietly set the tray down above and crouched to get a better look as Bryan threw teddy bears, photo albums, and wires all over the floor. He must not have found what he was looking for, Lori concluded from his aggravated groan. “Dammit!” His frustration echoed throughout the basement. Lori tensed, startled.

    He kicked the box hard. Lori was frozen, aware enough to know that she was probably not supposed to have witnessed this. She didn't dare move in either direction. She watched as Bryan started to go through the box again and again, taking things out and replacing them. Slowly, Lori began to inch back up the steps. Six... Five... The tray was on its own; she just wanted to escape unscathed.

    She made it to the door and closed it quietly behind her. Her mother looked up from the kitchen across the hall and smiled. “Did you take it to him?”

    Lori nodded vigorously, eyes wide. Her mother seemed to want more information, however, so Lori scraped together whatever she could think of to say. It came out quickly. “He was busy and I left it on the stairs I don't know if he saw me he looked really busy I didn't want to bother him.” She nodded to signify the conclusion of her speech, and then trotted off to her bedroom as casually as she could.

    She must have looked more visibly upset than she realized, because immediately upon seeing her sister Abby stopped her homework and asked what was wrong.

    Lori wasn't even sure how to respond to this. What exactly was wrong? She wasn't quite sure, but something in her stomach had told her to be afraid. She described to her sister what she had witnessed, assuming it would be summarily dismissed. Quite the opposite happened. Abby got up and shut the door tightly, and the led her sister over to the other side of the room. They sat down behind the far bed, almost in the closet.

    “Remember when I was looking for the charger?” Abby asked. Her eyes were distant as she replayed the incident in her mind.

    “Yeah.” Lori was not following.

    “Well I went to look for it in the junky box. And I was kind of tossing stuff around, and I heard something smash. It was this picture frame. I didn't know whose it was, but I knew mom would get mad, so I kind of just shoved the glass and stuff where ever I could.” She finished and looked at her sister, obviously expecting input.

    “What does that have to do with anything?”Lori got up to leave, but was pulled back down by her exasperated sister.

    “It means,” she strongly emphasized this word, “that what I broke must have been what he was looking for. And it wasn't there. And we're in trouble.”

    Lori pulled her arm away from Abby. “We?! Why would I be in trouble if you broke it! And why was he putting pictures in our junk box anyway, that just seems stupid!”

    Abby furrowed her brow. “That is kind of stupid.”

    “Maybe he thought it'd be safe there?” Lori giggled. “Except you broke it, so it wasn't!”

    “But if he really wanted it to be safe why didn't he just give it to mom to put in the bank or the safe or something? The junky box gets beat up like that all the time.” Lori shrugged, having lost interest, and began to toy with her shoelaces. Abby stared at the carpet for a while, then looked up suddenly. “Is he still down there?”

    “Ahdunno.” Lori continued to twiddle with her feet.

    “Lulu, I want to see what the picture was of. Maybe it was something bad. And we can't go see if he's still down there.” Abby stood and tried to pull her sister up, but she resisted.

    “Abby, no!” She yanked her arm free. “I hate it down there. I don't want to go. Don't make me go with you.”

    “I don't really want to go alone, either,” Abby admitted. They stared at each other for a time, unsure of what to do.

    Lori sighed, trying to make it as apparent as possible that she was not happy about the decision she was about to make. “Fine. I'll go. But in the morning. I don't want to now. It's too late. And no way at night.” Abby took a deep breath and nodded in agreement.


    The girls got up as soon as it was fully light the next morning. The tiptoes through the small and creaky house to the best of their ability, successfully reaching the basement unheard and unseen. Abby opened the door slowly and tentatively, wincing whenever it made the slightest creek. Lori stood behind her, holing Abby's shirt tightly in her small fist. And then the door was open enough for them to slip through.

    But they didn't. Both girls stood and stared, intimidated by the dust and haze, for what seemed like a very long time. Eventually Abby took a small step forward. Lori mimicked it exactly. Like this they went inside, and worked their way to the bottom of the stairwell where the light switch was. It went on, and both girls exhaled in relief. Lori continued to clutch her sister's pajamas until her fingers were sore and white.

    Abby tiptoed over to the box she had slid the frame in, retrieving that first. She handed it to Lori. Next she began to peek under crates in the area, unsure of exactly where she slipped the photo. She found insects and mousetraps before the picture itself, but eventually it was recovered. Abby stared at it as she picked it up. She hadn't looked at it before at all, but seeing it now... it drew her in. She took in every detail, the foreground, background, and everything in between.

    Lori looked at her sister suspiciously. Was it really that good? What could it be of? She jumped to try and peek over Abby's shoulder, but couldn't get a good view. “Ab! What is it? Show me-e-e!” When she was not acknowledged in any way even after more poking in prodding, she finally shouted, “ABBY!”

    Abby jumped. “What?!” She pressed the photograph into her stomach, the picture itself concealed.

    “What's your problem? Why can't I see it?” Lori went to grab it, but Abby pulled away.

    “Will you relax? I never said you couldn't see it. All you had to do was ask.” Abby was annoyed and wanted to examine it more before giving it to her sister who would probably ruin it.

    “I did ask. You just always ignore anything I say ever,” Lori replied indignantly. She snatched the photo away from her sibling and looked at it. “It's just some guy! What were you looking at so much?”

    Abby grabbed it back, insulted. “Come on. Let's bring it upstairs where we can see better.” She pulled her sister's fingers from her shirt and plodded up the basement stairs. Lori followed quickly behind.

    In the light of their room, Lori could still not understand her sister's fascination with the picture. It wasn't particularly interesting. The focal point of the black and white photograph was a young man in a flannel shirt who was starting intensely at the camera. The background was an array of stands and tents; it appeared to be some kind of outdoor market. Abby shook her head. “I recognize this guy, but I don't know where he's from.”

    Lori scooted over to get a better look. He seemed vaguely familiar, she thought, but only in that way that all such nondescript people have a certain look. There was nothing particularly striking or distinguished about him, no beauty marks or big nose or the like. He was average height in proportion to the things around him, with mundane hair, eyes, and skintone. Granted, the picture was not in color, but had his skin been, say, green, the girls probably would have noticed...

    Suddenly Lori gasped. Her eyes widened and she paled. Her mouth quivered but she said nothing. Abby looked at her, concerned. “What? What is it?”

    “Abby... it's him...” Her voice was small, barely a whisper.

    At first Abby did not know what this meant, and Lori offered no further explanation; she only continued to scare, and her eyes began to water up. Abby studied the man more closely, and coupled with the sheer terror in her sister's eyes, she finally realized where she had seen him before. “We have to get rid of it.” Her voice was a whisper, but then she almost shouted, “We can't keep it!”

    The girls ran out of the room, unsure of what to do. Abby scanned the room, trying to figure out the best way to dispose of the photograph. Lori did not want to wait any longer, however, and grabbed the photo from her sister, ran into the kitchen, and threw it in the garbage. “There,” she said triumphantly, “It's gone.”

    Abby stared at the trash bin, breathing heavily, her heart pounding. She almost felt like crying. But there was an element of relief, too; maybe if the picture left the house, everything would stop.

    dragon quill
    because modern media sucks

    livejournal facebook fanfiction

    'Don't be so modest, you're not that great.'

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