Ahab Flanders

Of the world below, creeping amongst the catacombs and sewers of the city. There is a man, a man once called 'Ahab Flanders'. But now he is 'Osiris of The Underworld'.

It could've been good fortune, though Osiris, knew better than that. He sensed her presence, he smelled her blood. It had been years; years of waiting for her. Searching the world, it had finally dawned on him to go back to the provincial town of Arrat and lurk in the shadows of Wayot.

Now after waiting a year, she was here. Back in the slums. All he had to do was trust his nose and he would find her.

Osiris, squat low in the cavern. Recalling his own awakening and the events surrounding his demise. He blamed Polly, his wife. The women that he had married in a secret ceremony in Arrat. With only one or two of their dearest friends to witness their love. But now he hissed at the thought of her betrayal.

After he had regained his concisenesses and was able to think more clearly, he wondered where Polly had disappeared to. Then he saw her, standing against the door, holding her throat, blood trickling between her fingers and tears streaming in silent cascades down her face. In her spare hand she held the stake, that should of ended his life.

Mighty vampire slayer that she was. He knew her for what she was and he howled in rage. Not recalling that she was his wife, once.

Pain, greeted his eyes as she moved backwards and flung the door open.
Too bright, too bright. His mind screamed as he staggered back, waves of disorientation swelled and roiled. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the sensation to go. But memories flooded his mind, finally he realized.

Vampire. I'm a vampire and she is my wife, the mighty 'Epona of The Thirsty' as she was known in the underworld, serial killer of vampires.'

Polly Flanders

Polly smiled as she passed some of the images. Recalling some of her old friends and their tales. Momentarily she pauses as she spots an image of Ahab in his younger days it had been given the honor.

"Polly, they believe he has passed." Regina spoke softly, her grating smoke laden voice now disappeared and the true voice, of a cultured lady came into play.

Continuation...

"Aah, now there is the voice, I prefer," turning to face her friend, a slight sadness in her eyes. "Yes, you told me that. I can hardly believe it myself."

Together they sat at the larger table, pushing aside the spare settings. Making themselves at home. Polly did not feel hungry, but allowed Regina to whisper a order to the young man that had entered the room. Regina's scrutiny was intense as she watched Polly.

"What?" a definite sharpness was in Polly's voice.

"Nothing, everything, whats been happening?" Regina's voice softened as did her eyes, as she realized that Polly had been thinking of Ahab. "Tell me what happened after I saw you last..." her eyes drifted "Oh my, its been ten years." Realization dawned, making Regina feel utterly stupid.

Polly leaned forward over the table, and the candle flames danced. She whispered "He is near. I feel him..." her hand touched the two puffy scars on her neck. A movement that was not missed by Regina.

"No Polly, he didn't." Polly stood rapidly, sending the empty glasses flying, as she rushed around, flicking the hair from her friends neck and gasping. "He did."

Sobs wracked at Polly's body with such force that she shook off, Regina's attempts to console her. Her arms gripped the other side of the table for comfort. But Regina pried her fingers loose and brought her arms to her sides and then held her tightly.

"Tell me, of the past Polly." She whispered, into her friends hair. "When you both left, you were very much in love, you were both on the road to become the greatest lean, modern, and vicious of all the Serial vampire killers."

Polly's tremors had lessened and the tears, ran silently, down her face as rain runs down glass. Her head hung low, her bangs flattened against Regina's breasts. A look of hope from Regina, made Polly take a gulping breath.

"Alright, but let go of me."

The serving boy, choose that moment to return. On a wheeled trolley, he sallied forth with steaming platters of vegetables and rice. Beside the platters there was a huge coffee urn, sitting over the top of its own little flame. Just enough to keep the coffee warm.

Regina, quickly shooed the lad from the room, with a per-functionary look and bade him to close the door. Turning, she served bowls of the sweet smelling vegetables. Her look at Polly, was enough to make her force feed herself. Polly knew from past experience that her friend would do exactly that if it came to it and right now, it seemed she did have a hunger for anything that did not bleed.

Polly Flanders

"Thanks for the offer, but not today." Polly chuckles. "Maybe another time, we can reacquaint ourselves." Polly reaches out to her friend, linking her arm with Regina's . They walk out of the lane, heading north down Trollop street, towards a cafe. "For now lets share a brew and some tales of old and new."

Continuation...

The darkening horizon, told nothing of the horrors that were dogging the streets of the provincial town of Arrat. Let alone the strip known as Wayot, where many maddened crowds of persons could be found. The purple blue sky, appeared the same across the world, but in Polly's world. It meant that the things mothers and fathers warned their children about, were waking and coming out to mix with the crowds.

Polly and Regina, knew that there were some cities and towns that retained their mythical flavor and an aura of romance, no matter what. But it was certainly not Wayot. Here it was anything but romantic, unless you were under the influence of some drug, common and obscure.

Doggy do littered the streets, human waste of all kinds, and other refuse, alive and dead. The smell was unbearable to those not used to moving around in this particular corner of Arrat. It was simply the world of solicited love.

As Polly and Regina were regulars of the area. Both with entirely different purposes, they knew the better establishments and that was one of the places they were headed towards. A soft drizzle had descended onto the town, sunset anywhere else would have been beautiful. The place they entered was nondescript, just a little door. Fronted with two large gargoyles and planters filled with living garlic. Black painted brick, surrounded the door of heavy oak, its brass strappings mirroring the rear view for those that entered.

Once inside, a bevy of human kind sat quietly eating and drinking. Their conversations hushed, only the occasional outburst of laughter could be heard. Polly followed Regina down the center of the room and then they turned left. Into what Regina had named as her private 'La Ritz'.

A little room, not at all decadent. Tastefully furnished, with two wing backed arm chairs in one corner and a neat little caffe table. Against the wall there was a side board dresser that held, small quantities of alcohol, that would not normally be seen on this side of town. The floors held delightful mishy rugs of the softest hues, of purple and blue, they were extremely soft under foot. In the center of the room there was two tables. One catering for a party of four and the other for more intimate dinners.

Subdued lighting and furnace generated heat, made the room inviting. On the purple black walls, silver framed sketches of the area hung with their own down lights. Some where sketches of the older buildings, others were old past residents that had held a special place in the proprietors heart. To many of the patrons that used this room it was deemed a honor to have your portrait hung on these walls. In silent remembrance of some of the best known characters of Arrat and Wayot.

Polly smiled as she passed some of the images. Recalling some of old friends and their tales. Momentarily she paused as she saw a image of Ahab in his younger days had been given the honor.

"Polly, they believe he has passed." Regina spoke softly, her grating smoke laden voice now disappeared and the true voice, of a cultured lady came into play.

To be continued...

Polly Flanders

Her undercut black and luminescent red hair, lies past her shoulders and her deeply kholed eyes, scan the crowds of men as they look for some momentary comfort. Rhubarb red lips purse as she spies a dear old friend.

"Tickle my bleeding crazy fanny!' she calls out.

"Why you filthy daughter of a shrew! Polly Flanders!" a lusty reply calls back.

Continuation...

"Look who's talking, you crab encrusted twat!" comes a hearty reply as the friends hug in the middle of the street. A cacophony of beeping horns and cussing is heard as the two women greet and part. Ignoring the disgruntled travelers and prospective punters. They move into a dim lane. Even there, there is a distinct din of the trades that are being spruiked on the sidewalk.

The aromatic sensations in the lane, barely make their eyes water. A mixture of stale sex, humanity and rotting fruit and vegetables does not bother the two women. Years of exposure to the smells and sights have only dulled their olfactory sense's.

"So you crazy whore Regina whats the word on the streets?"

Violet eyes regard Polly seriously as Regina begins to talk in a gravely voice.

"Shish Poll, the drugs are still very prevalent and well theres word that Ahab's been frequenting some of the doss house's."

Smiling slyly, Polly raises a penciled eyebrow. "Really, I thought that Osiris had gone to ground."

"Yeah well, that may have been the case, five years ago. However, word has it he's horny and thirsty." mutters Regina as she runs lacquered purple nails through her cropped blond hair. "From the look of your attire it appears you ain't had any for a bit either." Regina looks down at Polly's legs smiling, "I see your sense of humor is still at its best. I like the tights and spiders." she laughs as she licks her lips.

"Yeah well they took my fancy and your right. I've not had the pleasure of feeling some arousal since ...."

Regina interrupts "I know lovey. Maybe I can help?" Her voilet eyes turning lusty.

"Thanks for the offer, but not today." Polly chuckles. "Maybe another time, we can reacquaint ourselves." Polly reaches out to her friend, linking her arm with Regina's . They walk out of the lane, heading north down Trollop street, towards a cafe. "For now lets share a brew and some tales of old and new."

To be continued....

Ahab Flanders

Just could not pass this one up! Its my husband! Woo Hoo, look out DD, I'm writing about you too!

The Great Archives determine you to have gone by the identity:
Ahab Flanders
Known in some parts of the world as:
Osiris of The Underworld
The Great Archives Record:
Of the world below, creeping amongst the catacombs and sewers of the city.
Vampire Name Generator.

Ahab Flanders....To be continued!

Polly Flanders

Incubus Frost is a devil of inspiration! Here is another that needs to have its tale told. Keep an ever watchful eye on this one....she appears to be a multi-faceted character.

The Great Archives determine you to have gone by the identity:
Polly Flanders
Known in some parts of the world as:
Epona of The Thirsty
The Great Archives Record:
Lean, modern, and vicious: the Serial Killer of vampires!
Vampire Name Generator

If you walk to the corner of Trollop street on the furtherest banks of .... You will see a character wearing a velvet dress and a heavy wollen cloak. Her feet are encased in leather boots with sturdy heels. Her slender legs are covered with black tights, with small images of spiders on them. Her thoughts for the tights when she brought them were 'Hmm, I like these and well my crutch is all cobwebby so why not have spiders running up and down my legs!', so without delay she brought the tights.

Her undercut black and luminescent red hair, lies past her shoulders and her deeply kholed eyes, scan the crowds of men as they look for some momentary comfort. Rhubarb red lips purse as she spies a dear old friend.

"Tickle my bleeding crazy fanny!' she calls out.

"Why you filthy daughter of a shrew! Polly Flanders!" a lusty reply calls back.


To be continued....

Water Ice Dancer

I'll have to thank Incubus Frost for this link and some added inspiration. Keep an eye out for her tale.....

Your fairy is called Water Icedancer

She is a bone chilling bringer of justice for the vulnerable.

She lives near bubbling brooks where Lords and Ladies and Cuckoo's Pint grow.

She is only seen when the bees swarm and the crickets chirrup.

She wears deep blue dresses. She has icy blue butterfly wings.

Get your free fairy name here!

Having lived amoung the Mernacian's two seasons Water Ice Dancer was faced with a serious dilemma, a most torturous task........to be continued!

Awakening Llyris

Awakening Llyris.

It was one of those days when fate decided to conspire against her. Climbing onto a chair Llyris had to get to the smoke alarm, to stop its screeching. As she pressed the button, Llyris must have moved. In a flash, that was quicker than her ability to yell for help, Llyris found she was hitting the floor, hard. Her forehead bounced off the edge of the breakfast table as she hit the floor.
She could recall nothing, and laying on the floor her reality slipped away. An enormous flash of light went off inside her brain, activating things forgotten or hidden within its depths.

Voices assailed her ears, like fingernails on a blackboard.
“Who’s this?”
“Where did she come from?”
“Is she the Witch we are looking for?”

Llyris made a wry face as she struggled to sit up. It was proving difficult; the cold tiles that were her kitchen floor were no longer under her. This floor felt smooth and cold, and with eyes that stung and a head full of cotton, Llyris managed finally to sit up. The screeching voices were unruffled and unconcerned. Offering no assistance they just continued to screech in her ear drums.

“Having problems?” A baritone voice came from behind her. Llyris could not see its owner, as her eyes just would not open with the commands her brain kept sending them. All of a sudden everything became blessedly silent.
“Thank you.” Llyris murmured.
“You’re welcome,” the baritone said “I had better get you up and take a look at that cut. Your eyes appear to be clogged with blood.”
It had been a while since a male had given her face the once over, even if it was covered in blood.
“Thanks” Llyris said as the man assisted her to her feet. As she stood, her world wavered “I appreciate ….” She sighed then promptly passed out.

Moments, hours, days’ later Llyris awoke. Her eyes opened to reveal an elegant older style library, with a dark haired man bent over some papers on a huge polished desk. He wore black leather pants, with what appeared to be dark feathers down the outer seams. His shirt was white linen with antique lace coming from the cuffs, gracefully collapsing over his hands and obscuring his wrists. Llyris let her eyes travel the length and breadth of his form.

When he looked up, she felt a little rush of pleasure. Conscious that this man was the owner of the baritone voice, Llyris spoke “I’m sorry, thankyou and where am I?” her words stumbled over each other. ‘Shut up motor mouth’ she told herself.

One of his eyebrows lifted and a playful smile came across his face, allowing Llyris to see a hide and seek dimple appear in his right cheek. Moving forward he spoke, baritone voice caressing her ears.
“Let’s see how that cut is doing, shall we?”
With steady fingers, he gently touched the swelling on the front of her forehead. Llyris brought her own unsteady fingers up, grazing his as she touched her own wound. She found herself thinking full and sensual thoughts as she grazed his hand.

He cleared his throat and his mouth drooped at the corners. Taking a step back, he watched as Llyris gently prodded her wound and the surrounding swelling. As she did so, it all slowly disappeared. Another playful smile slid across his face, and taking a deep breath he said “Well let me assure you. You are a good healer and witch!”
Llyris gaped at him, then stood and moved towards the fire. She could see her reflection in a wonderful large mirror above the fireplace and noticed that her unsteady legs had prompted him to walk beside her.

Llyris stared at her reflection in the mirror; blood was evident on her purple linen blouse. Her red and black streaked auburn hair was tousled over her shoulders, and there was also now a streaking of shocking white hair at her temples and above her forehead where the cut had been. Dismay washed over her, she could recall all that had occurred before the fall and nothing since, until the screeching voices had woken her.
“Oh, good grief what has happened to me?”
Llyris ran her hands through her hair, watching his emerald eyes, he was in thought. Llyris could see small things shivering in the mirror, but decided not to focus her concentration on them. Combing her fingers through her hair, she started to rake out flakes of dry blood. Even with the blood her hair still felt good to the touch. Smiling to herself she was pleased as she felt her hair was just one of her good aspects.

He took a deep breath and started to speak.
“You fell, obviously. Then all of a sudden you appeared in the kitchens of Our Lady of the Southern Reaches.” His eyes bore directly into Llyris’s crystal blue depths and that dimple surfaced again as he paused, smiling ever so briefly.
“You passed out, just as I arrived to get my lunch. Our apprentices received such a fright causing them to screech left and right.”
Llyris again gawked at him “Oh, I’d …. “
He eyed her briefly, and then thoughtfully he spoke “We can talk over a late lunch. Would you like that?”
“Oh, yes.” She said demurely.
“We have a lot to talk about. Oh and my name is Raine and you are?”
“Llyris” she spurted out.

Llyris felt as if this was all a daydream, yet she wanted to click her heels and jump into the air. He smiled and the dimple stayed in place.

©FI/ND 2005

Chill Night 3

Part: Three. Un-named. Same again, help me name it.

The middle aged man had house guests. His son’s lady friend was staying a few days.

Ralph had been able to control his voyeuristic urges for over a year now. But as soon as he saw his sons lady friend he had felt the unmistakable urge boil up and gurgle within himself.
‘Craig won’t be happy; if he caught me doing this.’ Ralph grumbled to himself as he bent an arthritic finger; pulling a conical shaped plug from the wall, dropping it into a vase on his bedside table.
Leaning forward, Ralph peered into the next room.

Sharon stood in front of the mirror; holding a little black dress against her body. Turning right then left she smiled.

Ralph got a fright.

Sharon’s smile revealed two very long, very sharp incisors on either side of her mouth; Sharon lightly brushed the tip of her tongue, down the length of them.

‘Oh My’ Ralph stepped away from his peep hole, grabbing for the bedside table as he did so; he knocked the vase, sending it crashing to the floor.

Sharon heard the noise, looking in the mirror; she glanced at the wall behind her. Crinkling her left eye she barely spotted the peep hole. ‘A dirty old man is Craig’s dad.’ Sharon smiled again. ‘I knew it, from his sheltered thoughts; this certainly cold is advantageous.’ Sharon reached for the hanger draping the dress over it. With a pretense of innocence she reached for the top button of her shirt and undid it.

Ralph couldn’t help himself he turned back to the peep hole, looking through it, his age spotted right hand gripped the bedside table. Ralph watched as Sharon bared her throat, her fingers moving rapidly downward, pulling at the pearl buttons, through their tiny holes; releasing the tension of the white linen that lay across her chest. When the final pearl button came free and the lapels loosened there was a flash of white lace in the mirror.

Ralph’s eyes widened, his grasp on the table tightened. ‘At least she has taste and wears decent lingerie.’ Ralph smiled, he could see her whiter than white skin against the white lingerie. ‘I know her for what she is!’ Ralph thought as he watched her hands undo the zip on her jeans. ‘I am old now; I will not allow her to hurt Craig.’

Ralph’s posture and stance straightened, his old muscles tightening as he watched the creature that was Sharon wiggle out of her jeans. Revealing a barely there G string, her high firm buttocks, were not even dimpled. ‘She certainly is a beauty, even more so now than when alive. I bet!’ Ralph mused in his mind as he watched, nostrils flaring as Sharon stood in front of the mirror, in her lingerie; casting a very quick glance to the peep hole, Sharon ran her hands down her body, over her breast’s, soft palms lingering; down her sides around to her buttocks.

Ralph stepped away from the peep hole; hearing a noise in the hall. Straining his listening; ‘Blast these hearing aids.’ Putting his hand to his ears, Ralph adjusted the volume. Ralph’s eyes narrowed coldly as he looked back into the peep hole.

“I love that look.” Craig spoke as he entered Sharon’s room, walking towards Sharon, he reached for her hand, pulling her towards himself; he kissed her on the mouth.

‘Oh no you don’t…’ Ralph felt upset at what he saw, stepping away from the peep hole ‘Not in my house; not with my son!’ Ralph headed across his bedroom, flinging open the door, he strode out into the hall; walking up to the guests room door.

As Ralph reached for the door handle it opened; Craig and Sharon stood side by side. Finding himself looking straight at his son; Ralph let his eyes wander over his boys features, slowly his gaze went over to Sharon.

Realising he was too late; Ralph took an abrupt step backwards. Knees growing weak he lent against the hall wall; he could see the puncture marks on the side of his son’s neck. ‘She’s bitten him, he is in her thrall!’ Ralph looked at Sharon defiantly.

Sharon’s sensuous lips curved into a smile, her eyes held a glimmer of delight, as she saw the realisation dawn across the Ralph’s old face. Shaking his head Ralph needed a moment to gather his thoughts; for a short moment he felt that he had forgotten where he was. Looking directly at his son, a small well of tears built in his eyes.

“Are you alright Dad?”

Stifling the lump in his throat Ralph replied “Yes, I am fine.” His eyes ran across his sons features “I was lost in a thought, I guess.”

Sharon stepped forward, patting the back of Ralph’s hand, her elongated fingers sending a shiver down his spine.

“Its ok, I do that sometimes too,” her voice showed happiness “When I am relaxed and content. Are you relaxed and content Ralph?” her eyes narrowed and she raised a perfectly coffered eyebrow.

Ralph stood there looking at Sharon, using all of his will power to hold her gaze, and not lose his thoughts to her.

“Yes, I guess I am.” Ralph said as he felt his grip loosen, turning his back on them both he slowly walked back to his room. A cold silent tear slipping down his cheek, as he shut his door; he leant against it. Casting his eyes across the room he let his eyes settle on the photo of his bride. Murmuring to himself he vowed he would take his sons and Sharon’s lives, even if the were already dead. Moving slowly forward he sat on the edge of his bed, a sob escaped his lips as he reached for the photo of his wife; hugging it to his chest he sobbed silently.

©FI/ND 2005

To be continued, depending on the time.

Chill Night

Part two: Un-named, Help me name it.

Bree looked around the room; memories played in her mind. Knowing something had happened; something evil, yet the feelings that she felt were warm and nice. There were red roses everywhere, gales of laughter broke out constantly, and spreading outwards like a rock thrown into a pond; rippling the water. The noise level in the room seemed quite loud; even the musicians on a pedestal tried to keep up.

Bree felt the eyes, before she looked around. A fat man was insolently running his eyes over her body as he moved past her. Bree looked down and saw to her shock she was, indeed, completely naked. Gasping, she stared wide eyed around the room, to see if anyone else noticed she was.

Bree felt horrified. What happened?

“Very daring dear!” a voice spoke next Bree’s ear.

Looking around abruptly Bree saw the woman that had in her memories; pleasured her and the woman who had attacked herself and Sharon.

‘Sharon! Where’s Sharon? What’s happening here?’ Bree scanned the room looking for her friend. Mentally calling for Sharon did not help, but it did make Bree feel less self conscious.

The woman went on “And clever too, if I could pull it off I would have done it too!”

Bree looked at the woman again. She was smiling; revealing her pearly white teeth, a glint of silver caught the light as the woman’s tongue ran across her lips. Bree looked at the woman for awhile, before she realised the woman’s tongue was pierced. Sending a shiver from her crutch; a Memory came crashing into her mind.

Bree blushed, forcing the memory back into the recesses of her mind.

“Imagine the money that could be saved on clothing if we all had a body like yours. Though with some of the elephants around here…” the woman waved her hand, her bracelets jingling on her wrist as she did so. “They would never consent to looking horrible in public as they do underneath their expensive clothes.”

Bree was confused. Why had she done it? “I hope everyone is taking it well,” she said trying to remain calm.
Her companion was not fooled, “Don’t be embarrassed, not now. All you can do now is pull it off with style.”

Bree stared at the woman and then looking around the room, she saw for the first time, that they all wore togas. Suddenly she felt at ease.

“Coy on top of everything. How so very like you. Charming and daring.” The woman saw how Bree had relaxed.

“Where is Sharon?” Bree spun around and searched the room.

“Sharon’s partaking of pleasures in her own way, Bree.” The woman moved away, floating on the air.

“No,” Bree cried out, trying to make her voice heard over the noise of the party. “Sharon where are you?”

The revelry increased, Bree looked through the windows, and she could see figures moving up the street.

“Who are they?” Bree called out, pointing to the window.

The woman turned, looking over her shoulder. She looked in the direction Bree had pointed.

“You had best flee these invaders, Bree. Who knows what would happen if they captured you.” Raising her fine eyebrows, the woman slowly scanned her eyes down Bree’s body.

Bree knew in her bones, that what the woman had said was right. But she did not want to leave, not knowing where Sharon was. Bree looked around wildly.

“Step through this doorway, Bree,” the woman called “Quickly!”

Turning Bree saw the woman beckoning her, from a narrow door, hidden behind a tapestry. The woman motioned, her gestures becoming more insistent. One last time Bree looked around the room in search of Sharon.

The sound of crashing and banging came to Bree’s senses; a terrible sense that all was lost came upon her, as she walked to the door and stepped through.

©FI/ND 2005

Chill Night

Frigid darkness surrounds, cold air wrapping itself around everything it touched. The ancient, craggy mountains added to the gloom.

The unpaved path twisted sharply to the left then the right. Night wind blew harder drifting dead leaves around the young couple’s feet. They held hands, neither spoke. Backpacks snug across their backs, it was cold, noses were chilled, breath misting in the frigid air.

They saw the lights in the distance, knowing then a road was near they hastened their steps. Both young ladies had missed their train, now they walked off the main road down a track. The man at the station had said that way would lead them back to town before nightfall.

Nightfall he had said was not a good time to be stretching one’s legs. Strange things happened in this district at night.

A gust of cold air blew up the path, making the ladies shiver. Thick jumpers, gloves, beanies, lambs wool boots and skin-tight jeans didn’t help. The chill was seeping into their clothes.

The path stopped abruptly at a pair of wrought iron gates, the ladies could not see the path beyond the gates. A deep mist had settled in and nothing could be seen in the gloom.

Sharon pushed on the gate and it swung suddenly inward. Looking across at her friend, she leant forward and brushed her lips across her friends cheek whispering, “Come on, I’m freezing.” Sharon tugged her hand.

Bree’s eyes were wide as she passed through the gates. If Sharon had not been holding her hand she would have turned and ran out of the cemetery.

Headstones lay to the right and left as the path wove haphazardly through tombs. Bree’s heart pounded in her chest. ‘One foot then the other,’ she kept saying to herself.

“It’s OK, Bree. We are together, it’s only a cemetery,” Sharon consoled as she felt the tension through Bree’s handhold.

As the ladies approached the centremost tomb, the doors swung open and a figure emerged. Bree froze in her tracks. Sharon let her hand go as she stopped. The figure moved silently towards the ladies and another figure followed.

Sharon spoke, “Ah, excuse me.” Her voice came out as a croak.

At first the figure appeared as a shadow amidst the shadows of the night, but as it came closer, Sharon and Bree realised it was a woman. Her figure was slender and she had a thick mane of wavy, black hair cascading over her shoulders and breasts.

As the clouds drifted, a shaft of moonlight caught her features, causing Bree’s eyes to widen. Sharon’s jaw dropped. The other figure all but forgotten, the pair stared at the astonishingly beautiful woman coming towards them. High cheekbones and a narrow chin were carved to perfection. Her lips were painted blood wine red, accentuating her white skin and wavy black hair.

Dark luminous eyes dominated this striking face. A truly remarkable feature rouged, black around their sides.

Sharon glanced at Bree and noticed she was staring, not at the brunette, but back at the other figure. Tall, blonde and boyish-looking, this figure now stepped forward. On closer inspection they could see it was another woman with hair swaying like silk down her back. She had blood red lips like her companion with skin as white as snow. Her eyes held Bree’s, their bluish grey sparkling in the moon-glow.

Sharon and Bree felt a compulsion. The figures wills were pulling them forward. Bree took a tentative step towards the blonde. Sharon caught her friend’s movement out of the corner of her eye and immediately put her arm out halting Bree’s step. This shook Bree back into awareness.

As one, the two ladies turned, running for their lives. Sharon stumbled and fell, yet called out, “Run Bree, run.”

Bree looked across at her fallen friend and saw the two women descending on her.

“No, no, no,” Bree yelled. Grabbing a rosary that was lying across a headstone, she moved forward with grim determination.

A morose looking man stepped into Bree’s path and a searing pain gripped her side. Her knees buckled and her head swooned. Bree then collapsed without seeing or hearing the fate that had befallen her friend Sharon.

Candle light played across Bree’s chest and arms as she slowly came awake.
“Wh…where am I?” she stammered, licking her lips and turning her head from left to right.

Bree heard the heavy stain of an oak door closing. She blinked rapidly as she saw the eyes, powerful eyes staring down at her. Feeling trapped by the power of the eyes, Bree forced herself to swallow and avert her gaze, making the mistake of looking down in the process

Bree’s eyes now fell on the curve of a neck and the vee of a chest. With a throat that was now dry, she again forced the words from her mouth, “Where am I?” A flash of anger was in her eyes as she spoke.

A nervous smile curved the lips of one face looking down at her.
“Please don’t worry, Bree. We will keep you safe, we love you. We want you to stay. We want you.” The words came in a soft monotone voice.

Bree’s eyes strayed and looking back into blue-grey eyes she heard, “Do you want to stay?”

There was a long pause before Bree replied, “Yes”, in a soft voice.

The blue-grey eyes then disappeared only to be replaced by the dark luminous ones. The brunette’s hovering head leaned forward and she placed her mouth on Bree’s neck asking, “Are you ready for this?’

“Yes” came Bree’s breathy reply.

Pulling Bree’s head back, a smile came across the woman’s lips, “Not yet, you aren’t.”
She let go of the head hold and kissed Bree abruptly on the lips. Long elongated fingers traced down Bree’s tingling body. The kiss lingered as long as the fingers caressed.

Bree was lost; lost in the swoon of the moment and in the promise of pleasures to come.

©FI/ND 2005