A Touch Of Crimson, Part 2

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Erotic Horror  |  House: Booksiesilk Classic Group


My supper finished, I set down at a small desk and started to write:

"Some times at night when the fog is misty, and the whiskey fresh from the still. One can hear a whoop and a holler, making one's hair stand straight up. Not all births in the Highlands are human. That's the way it is. Some are born a ghost straight from the womb to pay a visit."

Later that night I heard the silence creeping. Creeping outside my window. There on the back lawn, the dwarf was digging a hole in the light of a lantern. Soon he dragged what appeared to be a coffin. "Time to sleep, my darling." Hearing him through the pane.

Waiting until only the pendulum could be heard. I descended the stairs and out to the lawn where fresh soil was piled over the hole. A shovel was leaning against the fence. It seemed like an hour before I could open the casket. Looking up from the hole, six-foot down I felt the snow falling. It was in July.

Pushing the lid from the box a putrification suffered my senses. "Is that you Malcolm returning from the war? I have been so lonely, waiting for you."

Hands reached up and cradled my head against her chest. Peeling my nightshirt above my thighs as a cold wind blew the snow. One of her eyes fell from its socket as she sang a lullaby. Thinking I was someone named Malcolm.

Kissing me with what remained of her lips and tongue. I was frightened beyond my wits. She silenced me with her tongue as it slithered down my esophagus, feeling like a spider crawling. Then whispering from the chords of her creation as if it were from a chapter of the book I was writing. Salivating down my chin grasping my cock and stroking. Feeling my sterile semen dripping.

"My love has grown for you night and day. I thought you would never return. Dance with me...dance with me in your arms."

The next morning I heard the piano. She was playing Chopin's nocturnes as she wept. Then she stood in the sunless window, dancing. An old lady dancing with crumpled toes with a veil over her thinning hair wanting me to meet her crows.

The dwarf bowed and said. "Welcome home Master Malcolm."

When a person dies, are they gone forever?  I had no idea if I was Malcolm or if the old woman was in delirium.

 


Submitted: July 03, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Atticus Abbey. All rights reserved.

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