Editor's Note: This story of a mystery in Kenmore, Washington first appeared in the comments section on Nightsky's latest "Threads" review. A debut story from an aspiring writer, this script was worthy of a fate more distinguished than being lost forever among the hundreds of doomed stories that are submitted every day to television producers "for their consideration." There are already two episodes in the Sockchester brothers' adventures but with a little encouragement, I think we can nudge White Bat into writing more. I also hear rumors of wardrobe and set departments being created by fellow #WFBFamily members to boost White Bat's start-up production venture!
The WFB's "Fan Fiction Friday" proudly presents the pilot episode of Socknatural!
*snickers and runs away, but not before a page of script falls to the ground*
The Cardboard ImpalaTM slowly pulls up to the edge of a lake. Plastic fronds hang over the side of the lake, making dark shadows near the shoreline despite the pristine day. The lake is shaped oddly like the inside of a washing machine drum. A shallow island marks a central spot in the lake.
Sock Dean steps out: So there it is, Lake Washington. Doesn't look like there's a monster hiding in there.
Sock Sam leans his head out of the window: Does it ever? Okay, so in the last twenty years over thirty people have gone missing here in Kenmore, Washington. Interesting fact, they all were one half of a set. Spouses, twins, close siblings. The spouse or sibling filed the missing persons report.
Sock Dean: Wait. Siblings? Like Us?
Sock Sam gives Sock Dean a look: You're not going to lose me Dean.
Sock Dean clears his throat: Yeah, well, who's the most recent victim?
Sock Sam: Benedict Fish. His wife Annette filed the report two days ago.
SockDean: Alright, let's head over there now and comfort the poor widow.
Sock Sam: First, let's change duds.
Sock Sam and Sock Dean pop open the cardboard trunk and pull out black suit jackets to put on. They close the trunk and hop back in to the car.
Sock Sam and Sock Dean arrive at a red brick two-story. Window boxes filled with flowers bloom under each pane. A white picket fence goes around the whole yard. Sock Sam and Sock Dean straighten their ties and knock at the door.
Sock Dean: FBI. Agents May and Taylor. Are you Annette Fish?
Sock Woman: Oh! Yes, but call me Nettie, please.
Sock Dean gives Nettie a long appreciative look and turns on his charm: Of course.
Sock Sam clears his throat: Nettie, we’re looking into the disappearance of your husband, Benedict. Can you tell us the last time you saw him?
Nettie Fish: Oh! Poor Ned! We were just going to the lake to fish that morning! I laid out on the shore to get some sun.
Sock Dean: I can imagine you did.
Sock Sam nudges Sock Dean to shut up.
Nettie Fish: But then my Ned was gone! It’s almost like he just walked into the lake.
Sock Sam: Did he seem different in the days before? Did his eyes look strange or did you smell anything odd around the lake or in your home?
Nettie Fish: No. No. I just can’t understand why he would leave me like that!
Sock Dean: I can’t understand it either, but here’s my card, that’s the number you can call if you need any -any help at all.
Sock Sam clears his throat again: Agent May. We should go.
Sock Sam and Sock Dean walk back to the Cardboard ImpalaTM.
Sock Dean: So what do you think? Nessie got hungry?
Sock Sam: I think we need to check the lore on Lake Washington, then we’ll head back to the lake.
Kenmore County Library. Sock Sam and Sock Dean are surrounded by bookcases. Sock Sam is pouring over a stack of books while Sock Dean is playing Jenga with a stack of them.
Sock Dean: This place stinks.
Sock Sam: Well, they didn’t have a lot to offer, but I think we’ll make do.
Sock Dean: No, I mean it smells, like mold and mildew and and dead rats and lizards.
Sock Sam: Dean, The bunker smells like that all the time.
Sock Dean: Nope, there’s something wrong with this library. I need to get out of here.
Sock Sam shakes his head: Fine, just go. We’re at the High Tide motel, right?
Sock Dean: Room 120.
Sock Sam: Okay. Got it.
Sock Dean grabs The Cardboard Impala'sTM keys and slides out of the library.
Sock Sam reaches for a book from Dean’s pile and knocks the whole Jenga tower down. Sock Sam groans.
Tapping Feet Bar is squeezed in between a shoe shine shop and a hardware store on the main road through downtown Kenmore. Inside, Sock Dean drinks out of a shotglass on a wood table and flirts with the female bartender. A few patrons nurse their own drinks or chat over round tables.
Sock Dean: So have you heard about all the disappearances at the lake lately?
Bartender: Well, people go missing all the time. My ex left me months ago, but I didn’t look for him. He either ran out to find another girl or drowned himself. I couldn’t care less.
Sock Dean: I don’t know why he’d leave a girl like you. Green is your color. Your eyes, your dress.
Bartender: Oh you like this dress? I had to change it a dozen times. You wouldn’t believe what condition it was before? Lace ruffles and poofy sleeves!
Sock Dean: You pour drinks and alter clothes? When do you have time to sleep?
Bartender: Oh, I make time...
(She winks her button eye at Sock Dean as she fills up his shot glass)
Bartender:...And have an apprenticeship at a dressmaker studio when I’m not here.
The Bartender goes on to other customers when someone familiar walks in.
Nettie Fish: Agent May! I’m...surprised to see you here.
Sock Dean turns to see Nettie all dolled up in a revealing dress and fishnet stockings. The tip of her tongue touches her upper lip as she looks at the bottles behind the bar.
Sock Dean smiles easily: I’m off duty now, Ms. Fish.
Nettie Fish: Ah ah ah.
Sock Dean gives her another long look and turns toward her from the bar
Sock Dean: Nettie. Here, have a drink on me.
Sock Dean gestures to the bartender, who passes him another drink to Nettie.
Nettie Fish drink it in one shot: Thanks. I usually don’t drink like this.
Sock Dean blinks and gestures to the bartender again: I doubt it’s usual that your husband goes missing.
Nettie Fish sighs: Well, Neddy would go out on fishing trips with his buddies, sometimes for weeks on end. Up and down the coast, even to Alaska a few times. I’m a very patient woman.
Sock Dean nodded: He didn’t know what he had.
Nettie Fish finishes a third drink: I just keep thinking, I need to back out there to the Lake. I’m sure he’ll be there if I just keep waiting for him.
Sock Dean: Well, maybe, but I think you’d better get back home safely first. You're moving pretty fast.
Sock Dean notices her wobbling as she stands up.
Nettie Fish takes the shotglass out of Sock Dean’s hands and drinks it: No! I’m going to stand on that shore and wait until he comes back. He has to come back!
Sock Dean waves the bartender on and tosses down his cash while trying to carry a stumbling Nettie out the door.
Nettie Fish: Oh Agent May, You’ll find him, right?
Sock Dean: Yup. We’ll find him. Let me take you home.
Nettie Fish: NO! Take me to the lake. I need to wait for him.
Sock Dean drives the Cardboard ImpalaTM towards the Fish’s home, but Nettie opens up the passenger car door and hurls red lint out the side. Sock Dean immediately pulls the car off the highway and to a stop. Lake Washington gleams just beyond a few trees.
Nettie staggers out of the car and starts stumbling to the lake: Neddy! I’m here! Come back!
Sock Dean chases after Nettie, but she’s already in the water, which has started to churn and swirl.
Sock Dean: Hey! Hey! Don’t!
The current becomes too strong for either one of them, and both are swept away into the depths of the lake.
The Cardboard ImpalaTM sits silently on the side of the street. Passenger door still ajar. Its headlights peer at the trees surrounding the lake.
Sock Sam wakes up to find out that he fell asleep on the books in the library. He rubs his face and runs a hand through his hair before he calls Dean’s cell which goes directly to voicemail.
Sock Sam: Hey Dean, so according to the lore, I think it’s a water wraith. They’re essentially spirits that roam over different bodies of water. They usually are dressed in green, but other than that, they’re mostly like other wraiths we’ve dealt with. Silver to the heart, mirrors show their true appearance, and a love for luring people to drown followed by a wrist spike to get out the brain fluid. Call me when you can.
Sock Sam asks around but no one can tell him where Dean went.
Sock Sam sees The Cardboard ImpalaTM near the edge of the lake.
Sock Sam runs around the car: Dean! Dean!
With no other choices, Sock Sam hooks his gun to his belt and dives into the water. It remains calm for time being.
Soaked Sock Sam swims to an island in the center of the lake. He sees a few trees, but when he gets closer he finds a small thatched hut.
Soaked Sock Sam chambers a round of his silver bullets and goes in.
The bartender turns from her prey, a straw retracts into her wrist: Hunters! I should have known why he was hanging around Nettie.
Soaked Sock Sam: Where’s Dean?
Bartender Water Wraith: Not dead yet. I wanted to have some fun with him before…
Soaked Sock Sam shoots two silver bullets into the water wraith’s chest.
The Water Wraith falls to the floor, dead.
Soaked Sock Sam hurries to the woman the wraith was feeding from: Annette! Ms. Fish! Nettie!
He sees she’s dead and he looks around the hut, but Dean is nowhere to be found.
Soaked Sock Sam steps out of the hut: Dean! Where are you? Where would she keep him?
Soaked Sock Sam dives into the lake again. He notices that the island keeps going down to the bottom rim on the floor of the lake. He swims around the bottom rim and thinks he might see the flannel shirt of Sock Dean. He grabs ahold under the rim and yanks with all his might.
Soaked Sock Dean comes free and both swim to the surface.
Soaked Sock Dean and Soaked Sock Sam land ashore and lay on their backs catching their breath. The Cardboard ImpalaTM is a few feet behind them, still waiting patiently for their return.
Soaked Sock Sam: Water...wraith
Soaked Sock Dean: Yeah...got that...when...she started...drowning me.
Soaked Sock Sam: Nettie...didn’t make it.
Soaked Sock Dean stands up and curses: We need...a win. I’m sick of losing socks!
Soaked Sock Sam: This...was a win. There’s lots of people who won’t become the water wraith’s victim now.
Soaked Sock Dean walks back to the Impala: Well, it sure doesn’t feel like it. Holy crap, that thing was crazy. It stuffed me in that crevice, where there was a tiniest oxygen leak. My lungs were literally on fire.
Soaked Sock Sam: Let’s get back to the motel. I’m sure it’ll feel better to get on a dry set of clothes and get back home.
They shake off the best they can and hop in the car. The Cardboard ImpalaTM drives out of sight to the sun rising over the lake or perhaps a particularly bright light bulb.
Fade to black.
Soaked Sock Dean: Ugh! You smell like foot!
Soaked Sock Sam: So do you!
You're Socknatural's screening audience, so make sure to share your reactions with its author and producer in the comments below!
Picture of Sammy Sockchester courtesy of Marion.
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