Read Online Visitor in Lunacy by Stephen Curran - Free Book Online

forward she took hold of my knee. “But I do not think they are visions, Doctor Renfield. I think they are real.”
    Her lips were cracked and her skin was flaking and dry. Gripped by a sudden cold revulsion I was compelled to push her hand away and get to my feet.
    “Let's go.”
    On the first floor we passed the room from where I heard the mysterious clicking on my previous visit. The door was fully open and as I went by I saw it had been almost entirely emptied of furniture except for an upturned chair and gate-leg table covered by a square of black material. Although my view was obscured I felt certain someone lurked within.
    Mrs Utterson led me on to the third floor, where the scent of the flowers had been all but overpowered by the repugnant smell of stale tobacco. The bouquets had wilted and fallen petals lay on the carpet. Reaching the final step she turned suddenly, blocking my ascent and forcing me to lean back, holding on to the banister with one hand for support. I wondered if I should mention I was feeling unwell.
    “It was I who discovered him,” she said.
    “I do not want to know.”
    “But you must hear it.”
    “Please, no.”
    “He was lying on the floor beside his writing desk, his head between the legs of his chair. There were deep bite marks running up both of his arms and his left wrist was missing a piece of flesh. Of course, he had lost a good deal of blood. All the books had been thrown from the shelves and scattered around the floor. I did my best to bind the wounds while the housemaid sent for the private attendant. It was he who extracted the missing piece of flesh from the back of my husband's throat.”
    She was breathing heavily. With nothing more to say we stood mutely at the top of the stairs. My vision became indistinct. For a moment I believed there was nothing behind me: no steps, no walls. Only blackness and an abyssal drop.
    Clawing at my shoulders she pressed her lips forcefully against my own. I stumbled backwards but managed to save myself. Breath hissed from her nose in short bursts. Her eyes fluttered wildly beneath their lids while mine remained open. Blood rushed in my ears and the walls seemed to shake and roar, as if the bricks might crumble and collapse. Unbuckling my belt with my uninjured hand I tugged my trousers down and pushed her to the floor as she lifted her dress. I was overwhelmed by noise. Mr Utterson's door loomed behind me, so strongly I believed I could feel the solid wood pressing down against my back. There on the carpet we wrestled with each other, lost in a bewildered state of carnality and violence. Everything was shrouded in white.
    In an instant, like a finger snap, my full cognisance returned and with extreme clarity I could see Mrs Utterson's shoulder moving beneath me. Her body was twisted, her hands clasping my head and her white-grey thighs tight around my waist, jerking and twitching, while she emitted a series of strangled gasps. My hips thrust against hers, knocking her lower back against the hard lip of the stair. I ejaculated inside her despite my deep revulsion.
    Depleted, we lay together, my full heft rested on her body and her arms spread across the floor. Silence grew around the two of us. Finally pushing myself away a sharp pain shot from my wound. Fumbling, I struggled to pull my trousers up, mortified to be exposing myself. She was spent and staring blankly at the ceiling, apparently oblivious to me. I turned and made my way carefully down to the ground floor, sliding my hand along the banister for support.
     
    After collecting my bag from the hallway I walked to the station and took the train to Marylebone. From here, rather than return home, I began to walk east, towards Bloomsbury and Clerkenwell, entering parts of London which, although I may have recognised them in the daytime, seemed foreign to me now.
    Much later I came across a part of the nocturnal city where there was nothing to be seen but lamps. Every step was lighted as