Summary: Winchester Sister - The reader is maybe a bit too deep in that Halloween spirit and redecorated the bunker, much to her brothers’ annoyance.
Word Count: 1894
Y/N = Your name ¦ Y/E/C = Your Eye Colour
I’m trying to write a seasonal story a day up towards Halloween in my “Halloween Bonanza”. This is the next one, number 5, this time it’s a Winchester sister short.
You’d had the Men of Letters bunker to yourself
for several hours whilst your brothers were out. Which honestly at most times
wasn’t really an issue. But it was closing in on Halloween, and your big
brothers should’ve honestly known better than to leave you to your own devices
during the spookiest season of the year.
Some girls liked the twinkling lights of Christmas
or the chocolate sweetness of Valentine. Not you though, no, Halloween was your
one true love. To the utter disgust of your brothers who couldn’t understand
how a hunter could want to celebrate a day that basically glorified the bad
Yet, there you were. Humming songs from a
Nightmare Before Christmas and other slightly spooky tunes as you moved quickly
from room to room. Surveying the different rooms and decorations.
You’d outdone yourself, if you dared say so.
Pumpkins, skeletons, orange fairy lights and fake cobwebs were everywhere.
You’d even managed to make use of some of the old stuff left behind in dusty
boxes in the bunker to make certain rooms extra creepy. The old projector now
showed an old-timey couple dancing on the wall, from time to time throwing in
single frames of jump scares, dancing skeletons, and words. The old chains were
hanging up in the kitchen, where you’d prepared a whole bunch of creepy food
and given the industrial styled room a morgue aesthetic to go along with the snacks
and metal cabinets. Everything was perfectly terrifying.
Yeah, your big brothers, Dean and Sam, should have
known better than to leave you alone that close to Halloween. You had a habit
of going Martha Stewart on them, or at least the Addams Family version of a
home decoration Pinterest board, during the spookiest of seasons.
Each room had a theme. That was your thing this
year. The kitchen had been turned into quite the convincing morgue, with
graveyard cupcakes, deviled eggs shaped like eyes, bloody pasta and more lined
up for snacks for a movie night. The library had turned into what you could
only describe as Edgar Allan Poe’s wet dream.