Categories > TV > Supernatural
My little brother’s wife passed away. Together they had an eight-year-old daughter, Avery. If something ever happened to Sam on a hunt, I would get responsibility of Avery. My niece hated to be left alone and clung to Lisa at all times. One day, Lisa asked me to watch my niece as her and Ben went on a small day trip.
Lisa crushed a crying Avery in an affectionate hug. “C’mon now, your uncle Dean is going to watch you!” said Lisa. “Lemme see that Winchester smile!” Lisa sighed when Avery was not going to do as told. “Behave for uncle Dean, please?”
With Lisa and Ben gone, I sat Avery down on the sofa and began to tell her stories of her mom and dad. It seemed to make her happy.
“You’re daddy once surprised your mommy by standing outside in the snow in daisy duke shorts, Ugg boots and a hat with moose antlers,” chuckled Dean. The happy memory had twisted his mouth into an expression of glee. Avery laughed along with uncle Dean. “It was so cold out, his nose became numb!”
The wind outside blew hot and dry. After a few stories, my niece had fallen asleep. I placed Avery on the couch, in the spotlight of reddish and warm, late day sun and noticed the teddy bear my sister-in-law had given to her. The hands, feet and ears of the bear where covered in ash. The cheeks were marked in a sad decay.
I figured maybe she had been helping Lisa clean the fireplace and went to use the restroom. I came out and heard the shrill cries that I have not heard since my niece was going through the terrible twos phase. Avery’s hands, feet, and cheek were covered in ash. Her cries were deafening.
“What happened!?” cried Dean. He could see the trail of tears like a shining ribbon of silk on her cheeks. “Why do you have ash on yourself?” She had not talked since her mother perished in the fire, just like their mom. Hard days made a Winchester, harder nights shaped a Winchester. Dean’s niece broke down in sobs and fell against his shoulder. “Your uncle Dean is here.”
That night, I allowed her to sleep in my bed. The shadows seemed to deepen and dart mysteriously as I heard someone walk into the room. The wind moaned, sounding like voices of the dead. I waited in a silent darkness.
Dean knew she was awake, he could hear her frightened whimpers. “Uncle Dean, she’s here, in the dark,” said Avery, her voice was shiveled into a whisper.
A strong wind picked up, blowing the yard in a furious rage. Dean sat up and looked into the darkness of the bedroom. Avery pointed him in the right direction, the corner of the room, between the wall and the bookshelf. “Whose here?”
I did not see the full figure, only the two intense eyes staring at the bed. The color of dark urine, the color of my brother’s wife’s eyes.
Lisa crushed a crying Avery in an affectionate hug. “C’mon now, your uncle Dean is going to watch you!” said Lisa. “Lemme see that Winchester smile!” Lisa sighed when Avery was not going to do as told. “Behave for uncle Dean, please?”
With Lisa and Ben gone, I sat Avery down on the sofa and began to tell her stories of her mom and dad. It seemed to make her happy.
“You’re daddy once surprised your mommy by standing outside in the snow in daisy duke shorts, Ugg boots and a hat with moose antlers,” chuckled Dean. The happy memory had twisted his mouth into an expression of glee. Avery laughed along with uncle Dean. “It was so cold out, his nose became numb!”
The wind outside blew hot and dry. After a few stories, my niece had fallen asleep. I placed Avery on the couch, in the spotlight of reddish and warm, late day sun and noticed the teddy bear my sister-in-law had given to her. The hands, feet and ears of the bear where covered in ash. The cheeks were marked in a sad decay.
I figured maybe she had been helping Lisa clean the fireplace and went to use the restroom. I came out and heard the shrill cries that I have not heard since my niece was going through the terrible twos phase. Avery’s hands, feet, and cheek were covered in ash. Her cries were deafening.
“What happened!?” cried Dean. He could see the trail of tears like a shining ribbon of silk on her cheeks. “Why do you have ash on yourself?” She had not talked since her mother perished in the fire, just like their mom. Hard days made a Winchester, harder nights shaped a Winchester. Dean’s niece broke down in sobs and fell against his shoulder. “Your uncle Dean is here.”
That night, I allowed her to sleep in my bed. The shadows seemed to deepen and dart mysteriously as I heard someone walk into the room. The wind moaned, sounding like voices of the dead. I waited in a silent darkness.
Dean knew she was awake, he could hear her frightened whimpers. “Uncle Dean, she’s here, in the dark,” said Avery, her voice was shiveled into a whisper.
A strong wind picked up, blowing the yard in a furious rage. Dean sat up and looked into the darkness of the bedroom. Avery pointed him in the right direction, the corner of the room, between the wall and the bookshelf. “Whose here?”
I did not see the full figure, only the two intense eyes staring at the bed. The color of dark urine, the color of my brother’s wife’s eyes.
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