Read Online Sunruined: Horror Stories by Andersen Prunty - Free Book Online

there. The only difference is that a woman doesn’t have to work to get fucked. We can...”
    “Just go to a bar and sit down?”
    “Exactly. Unless she’s married. Then she gets to fuck when the husband wants to fuck.” Again, her mouth formed that derisive smirk. “Here, hold this.” She handed him one of the wineglasses and filled it full.
    “Shall we toast?” he asked.
    “To... to...?”
    “To fucking,” he said.
    “And the night,” she finished. They clicked glasses and quickly polished off the first round.
    Magdalena was right. She wasn’t much of a conversationalist. They sat in relative silence and drank a couple more glasses of wine. He found it quite agreeable. He sprawled out in the grass and looked up at the fat moon, listened to the night birds call out to each other from their separate cells of isolation, watched the slow flapping of the trees and the unmoving grandeur of those statues.
    Startling him, Magdalena sprang to her feet and said, “Catch me if you can,” and took off running through the garden.
    Hutchens, battling with his alcohol-soaked body, struggled to his feet and trudged in the direction she had gone although he could no longer see her. Slowly, he stepped his pace up to a slow trot and jogged around the flowers and shrubs, undoubtedly trampling some of them. Once he got about halfway around the perimeter of the garden, he stopped, winded.
    “Magdalena!” he called.
    Some feeling other than drunkenness settled into his bones. Now he thought for sure the wine had to be spiked or poisoned or adulterated in some fashion or the other. The whole garden brightened somewhat, became somehow richer, like all the green seemed to stand out, painting itself over a black, foggy canvas.
    “Magdalena!” he called again. Shit, he thought, what the hell kind of game is she playing?
    After thinking that, he saw something like a path open up—a green, liquid path. It wound around a series of small yew trees and disappeared behind a huge magnolia. Now he started to feel a duel sensation. His skin and viscera felt light, his hair stood up all over his body, shivers down the spine, like it was all trying to crawl away from him. But from the middle of his body—his lower stomach spreading down to his sex—he felt a heavy thickening. This animal desire combined with a revelatory high gave him renewed zeal in seeking out Magdalena. He was going to give her what they both came here for. Relishing in the intensity surrounding him, he slowly started down the path floating through the garden like an ethereal river.
    Visions ripped through his mind. He made no effort to try and force them out. The red raging fires of hell gave way to a group of sweaty, naked primitives, background drums beating as they coupled with wild ferocity. He saw a shimmering blue church and heard, from within the church and somewhere very far away, the slow chanting of “Ave Maria.” A whip came down on a sublimely porcelain and feminine back, lighting a red gash. Lightning ripped through a dark sky. Waves pounded a black coast. He saw dripping, hairless vaginas and throbbing, ejaculating cocks. He could smell lilac, the mighty river, the sultry air of the Gulf and somewhere, even farther away, the scent of Magdalena.
    He crept behind the magnolia and saw her there, standing still. She took off running through the dew-slicked grass, back toward the house. Determined not to lose her this time, those visions still raging through his head, those feelings still surging through his body, he chased after her.
    She splashed through the fountain and threw herself down in the grass on the other side of the walk, her dress sliding back on her thighs. Hutchens landed on her, shoving that dress up above her waist and taking down his pants and underwear with one motion. The only thing he could think about was tearing her apart. He forced her legs open and moved up inside of her moistness.
    Magdalena grunted hungrily as he thrust up into