On why the husband of prodigalproblemchild should allow me to borrow his wife for the premier of Supernatural, season 7, on September 23, 2011
Supernatural is a fantastic show, one which I have been fluctuating levels of obsessed with for the last 6 years. I was a fan of the TV teen comedy drama Gilmore girls when it first came out and watched it with my mother as a form of bonding, because we are both kooky, like Rory and Lorelai. Supernatural began airing in 2005, directly following Gilmore girls and starred the somewhat cute boy, Dean, played by Jared Padalecki. We were amused by the fact that his character was named Sam and some other guy played a man named Dean. At any rate, being weirdos, my mom and I were pretty quickly hooked on the show Supernatural.
Sadly, though many of my friends were fans of Gilmore girls, they did not pick up on Supernatural at all. I spent the next 5 years alone in my fandom of Supernatural, occasionally trying to get other friends interested in the show, but failing each time. It was just too different or too weird or just not what they were interested in. Eventually, I came to terms with the fact that the only person I could obsess about the show with was my mother.
This changed around the end of season 5 and the beginning of season 6, when a friend of mine began watching it, but he never managed to keep up with the show, so I could never speak with him without fear of spoilers. Then another friend randomly discovered it before season 6 ended and plowed through the series. For the first time, I knew what it was like to have someone else to talk to about the show and it opened up a whole new world for me.
When I joined tumblr, I didn’t expect to do much other than write these posts on 533words and make crochet-related posts on fyeahcrochetgoat and my personal blog shellygurumi, until I discovered the massive Supernatural fandom out here. The obsession took hold stronger than ever before. Having someone else to enjoy something with makes the enjoyment of it that much greater, because you get to feed off each other’s pleasure, laugh along with the jokes built up around 6 seasons of awesomeness, or cry when the characters we love are put through difficult situations. Being able to have someone else to say, “Nooo! Cas! Don’t! Oh god, Dean, just give him a hug and tell him it will be okay, PUH-LEASE!” makes all the difference in the world, sometimes. Because we are connected through the drama and the comedy.
Season 7 is sure to be an emotional one, because of how things were left off in season 6, even with the Impala’s life hanging in the balance! We have to know what will happen with Castiel. We wait in fear of where the show will turn and what will happen. And for fear that it might turn in a direction that will leave us scared and confused, it helps to face this oncoming uncertainty with a friend who knows and understands why what comes in the next scene could mean bright smiles or big tears.
So I give you this plead, Husband to ProdigalProblemChild, let me borrow your wife for one night and let her watch the premier as it airs on cable. My home is mediocre and a bit of a drive away, I have to work on the following Saturday but I will open my doors to her, anyway! My TV isn’t very large, but we will see Supernatural at the time and date of the premier. As long as she isn’t allergic to cats, I promise she will return in good condition. We will feed and water her as necessary. And if Castiel makes her cry, I will give her a hug, but I will be certain not to steal her away from you.
In my final plea, my birthday is the Tuesday the follows said premier. So if nothing else, perhaps you can consider it a birthday present.
This ends my essay. I hope it gives you the answers you are searching for.
“Doors are dangerous,” Her Granny always said. “You never know what could be behind a door.”
Etty went through stages with her Granny. When she was very little, Granny was a very interesting old woman, full of stories and interesting facts. When Etty got a little older and stopped believing in the magic of old Granny’s stories, she thought the woman was crazy. That was, until her sixteenth birthday. It was always sixteen or eighteen in these stories, wasn’t it? She wondered why, sometimes, why those ages brought about such changes.
When she was sixteen, though, Etty started seeing the things Granny had told her about. She started to see the shadows in the corners of her eyes. She started to hear the whispers of the trees at night. When animals in the room stopped and stared at the empty air, she knew that it wasn’t empty, though no one else ever saw.
No one but her and Granny. Etty sometimes wondered why Mama and Daddy couldn’t see the things she and Granny saw. Mama always thought Granny was crazy and used to yell at her for filling Etty’s head with “nonsense” when Etty was still a small child. Daddy believed her, though and told Etty so when Mama wasn’t around.
Now there was no denying it. Etty knew what was real and what was stories, and it scared her a little to know that most of it was real. There were things in this world, all sorts of things, that most people never saw. They weren’t ghosts; not so far as Etty and Granny could tell. They were things from somewhere else. She didn’t know what, just that they were there. The worst of them, though, liked to hide behind doors and things.
Sometimes there were even doors that other people couldn’t see. They would be in the middle of an otherwise blank wall or even out in the middle of a field somewhere or on a path. They would just appear, like a shimmer, like a mirage. Those were the scariest doors. Sometimes, if Etty put her hand up to one, it would feel burning hot or freezing cold. Those ones she stayed away from, they were the scariest.
The others, the doors that felt normal, they were still scary. Anything could be lurking behind it and usually, they were there to keep whatever that thing was trapped. Sometimes people walked through the doors, completely unaware that they existed. Those people couldn’t see the things Etty saw. When they did, she often saw the people shudder or shiver compulsively. And sometimes, just sometimes, it made the doors open.
Sometimes, rarely, when the doors opened, nothing came out. Then Etty would rush up to slam the door shut before anything could happen.
“Never look through the door!” Granny would warn. So she would close her eyes as she closed the door, or look away so she wouldn’t see by mistake.
But more often than not, something would slither through or snake out of the doorway. She would watch as the things watched the passing people. Most times, they would follow after the people that walked through the door. Sometimes she would see those people on the news or in the papers in the coming weeks. Some murdered people, others turned to criminals, sometimes they just went crazy and did strange things. It all depended on what came out of the door and why it came.
copyright © 2011, 533 words