The fourth day (since the world ended)
Apr. 10th, 2007 02:50 pm>> The fourth day (since the world ended)
TITLE: The fourth day (since the world ended)
AUTHOR: ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ultraviolet9a
SPOILER: Not really. Mild ones maybe.
ultraviolet9aSPOILER: Not really. Mild ones maybe.
GENRE: Gen. (Het, if your imagination is stronger than mine.)
CHARACTERS: Jo and Ash. Mentions of the Winchester boys and Ellen.
CHARACTERS: Jo and Ash. Mentions of the Winchester boys and Ellen.
SUMMARY: “Ah.” Ash looks at the ceiling. His eyes are red rimmed and hazy, but damned if that could ever fool Joanna Beth Harvelle. There are razors, sharp razors and intricate little machines whirring so fast behind those watered eyes, that the world would have a hard time catching up. If it wasn’t falling apart already, that is. Post apocalyptic. Jo and Ash at the Roadhouse.
RATING: PG-13
FEEDBACK: Dude…duh.
DISCLAIMER: Don’t own them. Don’t make money of them. That sort of stuff.
FEEDBACK: Dude…duh.
DISCLAIMER: Don’t own them. Don’t make money of them. That sort of stuff.
NOTE: So, after our competition was done, e313 decided that the Horsemen of the apocalypse were four, so we HAD to have four stories. Same premise, post apocalyptic, 500 words min. Except, for variety’s sake, we changed protagonists. Her take is here.
e313 decided that the Horsemen of the apocalypse were four, so we HAD to have four stories. Same premise, post apocalyptic, 500 words min. Except, for variety’s sake, we changed protagonists. Her take is here.Jo expected the apocalypse to be a lot noisier. Flashier. Not just those purplish clouds in the distance and the feeling of electricity dancing over her skin, crackling over everything. Ash tells her how it isn’t so. The end of the world must be quiet.
“That so?” she asks. They have broken the most expensive bottles they could find, even the whisky her dad bought when she had been born, saving it for her wedding day. She takes a breath in. It’s bitter. Her dad hasn’t been around for years, his memory the only thing to haunt her every step.
They’ve moved two mattresses from the bedrooms into the main roadhouse, just in front of the bar, one next to the other. Plenty of pillows to prop themselves against.
Roadhouse barricaded as best as they could, though both know that they’re going down. The world is going down. Has gone down already.
And if they’re going down, they might as well go down in style.
“That exactly so,” Ash says.
