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Fight Club/Supernatural: The First Rule of Hunting
Jess gave me the best prompt ever: Fight Club/Supernatural.
HOLY SHIT, DO YOU THINK BOBBY AND MARLA ARE RELATED??
The First Rule of Hunting
Fight Club/Supernatural. PG13. The narrator, Marla Singer. 183 words.
You think Tyler is gone, really gone this time, but it's hard to tell: sometimes you think you see his smirk in a puddle of demon blood, or hear his triumphant laugh when you sink a stake into a vampire.
You don't tell Marla this. The only reason she's still hunting with you is that she thinks you're actually sane, but the exact words you said to her were, "I'm as sane as any of the other hunters out there." You think she suspects sometimes. Sometimes you suspect she stays only because she's scared to be alone, but that's okay, you are too.
The first rule of hunting is you don't tell anyone about hunting, and you're excellent at keeping secrets.
"Bobby says there's a wraith up in Delaware," Marla says, wiping her dagger clean. A cigarette dangles out the corner of her mouth, and when she looks up you see a smudge of demon blood on her cheek.
You reach over and wipe it off.
"Let's go," you say, and you both climb in the Impala, and you drive into the night.
HOLY SHIT, DO YOU THINK BOBBY AND MARLA ARE RELATED??
The First Rule of Hunting
Fight Club/Supernatural. PG13. The narrator, Marla Singer. 183 words.
You think Tyler is gone, really gone this time, but it's hard to tell: sometimes you think you see his smirk in a puddle of demon blood, or hear his triumphant laugh when you sink a stake into a vampire.
You don't tell Marla this. The only reason she's still hunting with you is that she thinks you're actually sane, but the exact words you said to her were, "I'm as sane as any of the other hunters out there." You think she suspects sometimes. Sometimes you suspect she stays only because she's scared to be alone, but that's okay, you are too.
The first rule of hunting is you don't tell anyone about hunting, and you're excellent at keeping secrets.
"Bobby says there's a wraith up in Delaware," Marla says, wiping her dagger clean. A cigarette dangles out the corner of her mouth, and when she looks up you see a smudge of demon blood on her cheek.
You reach over and wipe it off.
"Let's go," you say, and you both climb in the Impala, and you drive into the night.