Short Story: Curious Bedfellows

[FalseProphet]

Rebecca Mertile shuffled out of the small home that she kept in the forest, loosely wrapping herself in a sheet to ward off the chill of the Harvest Time night. Her thick soot hair caressed her throat and shoulders and ended just barely before her breasts did, the feathery bobs cupping them like the hands of the handsome, dark-eyed fellow whom she shared her bed with. Twig thin fingers dug into her vaguely helpful covering and pulled it tighter in an attempt to ward off the little shivers in her skin. Rolling her head back to see the sky through her canopy, she marveled at how the stars and the twin silver moons looked different somehow after the experience she just had. A long, shallow sigh escaped her lips, and thought about her new lover through the afterglow of their experience.

She hardly believed that she even had a man in her bed, much less one that made her feel like he had been able to. The debonair fellow seemed so well traveled, so well versed in everything, and combined with his strong, noble looks, there was no surprise that every female in the village had swooned at his passing glances. Why was it, she asked herself, that he picked me, a midwife several seasons passed the marrying ages, when there were many prettier, younger women in the village? She knew she wasn’t plain, but she wasn’t delusional enough to think herself fabulous. There had been a few men who fancied her, but none who had enough interest to ask for her hand. None of them would make a suitable husband, even if they had asked. She was becoming lonely but never showed it to anyone, seeking strength in her purpose and in helping the more fortunate women of the town, those women who had been granted children. Then, the mysterious stranger came through town two nights before, clothed in the finest silks from the Eastern Trader cities. His silver tongue and songbird singing voice enraptured all the ladies of the village.

“And now, here I am,” Rebecca said softly to herself. She smiled as she basked in the gaze of the two great eyes in the sky, feeling herself get excited at thoughts of all the places and ways the stranger had touched and kissed her. Tiny pricks of ice crept along the skin of her exposed shoulder, causing her to readjust her sheet. The frigid sensation prodded her spine and snaked down to her well formed hip. The rest of her ran as warm as could be, but the nudges of cold nails against her skin did not subside until she looked down at herself. The nudges stopped. She looked herself up and down as best she could, and found nothing unusual. Chalking it up to being a side effect of her fantastic night, she began to turn to get back to bed, when something stopped her. A quick glance over her shoulder at the open grassy clearing in front of her steps proved that she had stopped for no reason.

Then, a low humming sound came from the far reaches of the forest. It was strangely musical, a song reminiscent to one she had heard in the village many times. It seemed to be out of reach, unreal and undeniable at the same time. “Who…Who’s there?” she said in the barest of calls. The hum stopped a moment, then continued, faint but still very present. It filled the clearing and echoed off the trees and the walls of the house. Rebecca couldn’t help but let her curious nature get to her, and she took five steps into the center of the clearing. The humming seemed to migrate, first to her right, then farther into the forest. Perhaps someone is out by the lake, she thought, but at this hour? She asked the hum again, “Who are you?”

A night breeze answered her, spiraling around Rebecca and blowing her hair and sheet around. It curved around her and snaked into the forest, rustling leaves and branches as it traveled. A sharp icicle prodded her in the base of the spine, then eased into a chilly patch the breadth of a male hand. She stepped forward again, and heard the humming become a whisper, maintaining its musical rhythm and beat. Straining to hear what it said, she continued into the bleak woods with guarded gait, her verdant eyes scrutinizing every twig and shadow.

Rebecca judged that she was close to the lake when she began to feel the chills again, this time they crept across her entire body. Her tender flesh shuddered as frigid fingernails dug into her, skittering from her shoulders and neck to her back and arms, her breasts and stomach, her hips and rear and crotch. She huddled against herself to ward off the chilly, invisible claws, ready to spring up and run from the onslaught. The more she sought warmth the farther the claws dug, and if not for the sheet remaining ashen white, she would have thought herself bleeding a thousand fine rivulets. Through her eyes, squinted with agony, she saw that the forest had been engulfed in a bank of fog; the fog only came in the dawn time, and it seemed to be the blackest part of the night. The fog rubbed her through the worthless protection of her sheet, trying to guide her body to stand up straight.

Then, she became acutely aware of the whispering again. “Please…Amros Lake…Please…” Barely able to think through the onslaught, Rebecca could not answer the pleading. “Don’t stop…Don’t…Come please…” Her skin in response became as cold as the fog, but the blood in her veins pumped hotter than ever before. Rebecca still could not answer, but she let the fog’s hands lead her up and push her farther through the forest. The scratching subsided, leaving her ready to split in two with her heated blood and frozen skin. The fog became denser around her, giving her virtually no visibility beyond an arm’s length. Whispers came from all sides, some hurried, pained pleas and others malicious, terrible notions.

“Help me…”

“Join me…”

“Give yourself to me…”

“Find my love…”

“Enjoy my pain…”

Rebecca couldn’t sort one voice from another anymore, choking on any attempt to cry out for help. She bit her lip and continued to the very edge of the water, blindly led by the prodding of the haze. Just as she was about to fall in, she stopped, her eyes like dinner plates as she gazed over the densely foggy lake.

Another frigid breeze came in from behind, scraping all the mist from the air. Once the water was visible, she came to the conclusion that she almost wanted the icy nails all over her. An ashen form stood in a rickety dingy a dozen feet away from Rebecca. It vaguely seemed female, long and flowing and cloudy in texture. Its face was hollow and terrible, and the home to scarred, red eyes jutting from their sockets. Seeming to be twice the size of normal eyes, they pulsed slowly like laboring clogged hearts, and oozing grey juices seeped out of the gaps between the eyes and the sockets. The creature’s teeth clattered and ground together, leaving no noise in its wake. Rebecca couldn’t help but gaze right into those most terrible eyes, paralyzed as the creature’s boat turned and began to head towards her.

Another sensation overtook her nerves, a slight pressure on her shoulder. She couldn’t bring herself to move in response. “Becca?” The voice was that of the dark stranger whom she had shared her night with. He walked in front of her, blocking her view of the fog creature with his tall form. “What are you doing out here, lover, at this terrible hour of night?”

It took the woman several moments to speak. “I thought I heard something in the forest. I came out to admire the night, and then I heard all these voices and felt like the fog was ready to rip my flesh from my bones…Oh, didn’t you see that terrible creature behind you? It had eyes that could be used like daggers…”

The stranger chuckled. “It’s funny how the light of the moons can play tricks on your mind, lover.” He hugged her head to his chest, running his hand through the strands of Rebecca’s dark hair. As his other hand rested at the small of her back, he looked up at the moons, his reddish black eyes glittering with silver specks in their lunar light. “Never you mind what you saw or felt out here. It is nothing more than wind and moonlight.”

“Okay.” He felt her body relax against his. “But it seemed so real…”

He grinned at her, showing his rows of perfectly white, sharp teeth. “Illusions always do, that’s what makes them so effective. Come, my delicious, I will relax you in the best ways that I’ve learned how. You’ll forget all about this by the morning’s light.” He licked his chops as he gazed out of the corner of his eyes at her long, slender neck. She still was excited from whatever she had seen just moments before, and her blood ran freely and hot. They walked arm in arm back to the little house.

As things stood, the stranger would be quite pleased with his dinner for the night.


Comments, constructive criticism, and bribes are always accepted.