heard a low guttural laugh.
“Jas? What are you doing?”
“Are these for me, Carter?” she said; but her voice sounded odd, different, so deep and coarse that it was only barely recognisable as being female.
“What?” he said, but then he realised what she was holding. An icy finger of dread slid through his gut.
With unnatural grace, Jasmine stood up and turned towards him. Her hair, still damp with sweat from their passion, fell down over her face in a ragged veil. From the shadowed area within, she peered out at him with narrowed eyes, pupils like charcoal pits. The bundle of rags rested in her cupped hands.
“Jasmine,” he said slowly, trying to maintain his composure. “Put them down.”
She shook her head, a grim smile stretching her features. “No. They’re mine!” Her voice was deafeningly loud, filling the chasm that yawned between them. She raised the bundle of filthy rags out towards him. Then, deliberately, she unwound the rags and exposed the bones. They seemed to glow in the moonlight, to bathe in the silver rays spilling in through the window. His eyes were drawn to their dull white tone. They seemed to speak to him as before:
I am yours and you are mine . . .
“Jasmine,” he said. “Please don’t…”
Still smiling, she placed her fingertips on the smooth length of a short, thin bone—he thought it might be a rib—and recoiled suddenly. She threw her head back and let out a short gasp of ecstasy. When she looked back at him, her eyes were wide and dancing with naked desire. She touched it more fully now, running her open hands over the different bones: a broken femur, a phalange, a section of shattered skull.
There was a flash of white light from the window, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. The light was so bright Carter was forced to look away. Jasmine’s laughter filled the room; not her light, feminine laugh, but the ugly cackle of an insane creature. When Carter looked back, her eyes had rolled up into her head, exposing the whites.
The bones were gone. In her hand was the empty, dirty rag. She let it drop slowly to the floor, the first leaf of autumn. Disbelieving, he looked around for the missing bones, but he knew intuitively what had happened, and his fear gave way to acceptance. The man was invading her now, but in a different, more fundamental way.
She cried out in a mixture of ecstasy and pain. Then she exhaled long and slow, her hands running over her body, cupping her breasts, stroking each nipple, sliding down into the shadows between her legs. She moaned loudly, before chuckling in that deep, unfeminine way.
“Hmm, I like this,” she said, looking down at her body with a stranger’s eyes. “I like this a lot. I am going to have so much fun with this body.”
“Jas?” Carter said hopefully, but he already knew it wasn’t Jasmine any longer. He knew who had taken her place.
She looked at him now, as if seeing him for the first time, her eyes full and black and filled with monstrous glee.
“Please, Jas,” he whispered. “Don’t hurt me.”
“Now, my sweet,” she said, delicately removing the Boker stag-handled hunting knife from his bag on the dresser. “I’m not going to hurt you. We’re just going to have a little fun.”
Inheritance
( For Louise. )
“Good morning, Sheriff,” Kyle Tippet said from the shadows of the general store.
“Good day to you, Mr Wade,” the grocer called from behind his stall.
Walking through town, Wade was always conscious of how the townsfolk kept a respectful distance. No one ever brought up the subject of the dark twist of night which clung to him every minute of the day, but they all saw it. The spectre appeared less tangible in daylight, more ethereal, but still clearly visible. The children were terrified. They didn’t understand it, and their parents couldn’t explain it. No one could. Ever since it happened the people he had sworn to protect had shunned him. Yes, they all wished him good
“Jas? What are you doing?”
“Are these for me, Carter?” she said; but her voice sounded odd, different, so deep and coarse that it was only barely recognisable as being female.
“What?” he said, but then he realised what she was holding. An icy finger of dread slid through his gut.
With unnatural grace, Jasmine stood up and turned towards him. Her hair, still damp with sweat from their passion, fell down over her face in a ragged veil. From the shadowed area within, she peered out at him with narrowed eyes, pupils like charcoal pits. The bundle of rags rested in her cupped hands.
“Jasmine,” he said slowly, trying to maintain his composure. “Put them down.”
She shook her head, a grim smile stretching her features. “No. They’re mine!” Her voice was deafeningly loud, filling the chasm that yawned between them. She raised the bundle of filthy rags out towards him. Then, deliberately, she unwound the rags and exposed the bones. They seemed to glow in the moonlight, to bathe in the silver rays spilling in through the window. His eyes were drawn to their dull white tone. They seemed to speak to him as before:
I am yours and you are mine . . .
“Jasmine,” he said. “Please don’t…”
Still smiling, she placed her fingertips on the smooth length of a short, thin bone—he thought it might be a rib—and recoiled suddenly. She threw her head back and let out a short gasp of ecstasy. When she looked back at him, her eyes were wide and dancing with naked desire. She touched it more fully now, running her open hands over the different bones: a broken femur, a phalange, a section of shattered skull.
There was a flash of white light from the window, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. The light was so bright Carter was forced to look away. Jasmine’s laughter filled the room; not her light, feminine laugh, but the ugly cackle of an insane creature. When Carter looked back, her eyes had rolled up into her head, exposing the whites.
The bones were gone. In her hand was the empty, dirty rag. She let it drop slowly to the floor, the first leaf of autumn. Disbelieving, he looked around for the missing bones, but he knew intuitively what had happened, and his fear gave way to acceptance. The man was invading her now, but in a different, more fundamental way.
She cried out in a mixture of ecstasy and pain. Then she exhaled long and slow, her hands running over her body, cupping her breasts, stroking each nipple, sliding down into the shadows between her legs. She moaned loudly, before chuckling in that deep, unfeminine way.
“Hmm, I like this,” she said, looking down at her body with a stranger’s eyes. “I like this a lot. I am going to have so much fun with this body.”
“Jas?” Carter said hopefully, but he already knew it wasn’t Jasmine any longer. He knew who had taken her place.
She looked at him now, as if seeing him for the first time, her eyes full and black and filled with monstrous glee.
“Please, Jas,” he whispered. “Don’t hurt me.”
“Now, my sweet,” she said, delicately removing the Boker stag-handled hunting knife from his bag on the dresser. “I’m not going to hurt you. We’re just going to have a little fun.”
Inheritance
( For Louise. )
“Good morning, Sheriff,” Kyle Tippet said from the shadows of the general store.
“Good day to you, Mr Wade,” the grocer called from behind his stall.
Walking through town, Wade was always conscious of how the townsfolk kept a respectful distance. No one ever brought up the subject of the dark twist of night which clung to him every minute of the day, but they all saw it. The spectre appeared less tangible in daylight, more ethereal, but still clearly visible. The children were terrified. They didn’t understand it, and their parents couldn’t explain it. No one could. Ever since it happened the people he had sworn to protect had shunned him. Yes, they all wished him good
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