Two very short stories.

Posted by Barbanne on November 18, 1999 at 15:00:49:

I called these my tales from the crypt. They are short and dark!

The First Tale.

I lay there above the ocean, basking in the warmth.
The flat rock I had chosen to spread out on was hot beneath me, warmed by the sun.
I lay stretched out on my back on my beach towel and looked out over the expanse of flat blue water and marvelled at the tiny waves that curled into shore far below me where the cliffs met the water in a confusion of rocks. I could see the curvature of the earth on the distant horizon.
I ran my hand along my thigh and felt the goose bumps as my skin quivered under my touch. I ran my hand around my tummy and felt the wetness of the perspiration mottling my skin. I used my hand and pushed my bra top up so that my breasts popped free. My fingers descried lazy circles over my nipples, barely touching them and causing the soft little nubs to stiffen expectantly, aroused and excited.
I felt the urgency of my arousal now and slipping my other hand inside the waistband of my bikini pants I pushed them down around my hips. I slid my hand over my slick tummy and into the other side and pushed that down too, rolling the material onto itself.
Still stroking my nipple I explored the soft saddle of flesh between my legs and inserted my finger into the hot, wet slickness of the cleft. I sought out the clitoral mound and began rubbing it slowly, very gently.
The urgency grew and became a demand.
My hand rubbed faster and faster.
My eyes were closed and my breath came spurting out between my lips in panting need. My hand rubbed ever faster.
"Why do it alone?"
"Eh?" I looked up.
A man, a gorgeous man hung before me. Black hair, glorious features, an Adonis. And with an Adonis's body!
I gasped. My need became an urgent wanting. His face floated before me. His hand outstretched to me. I took it and he pulled me forward.
I pushed up off the towel and stepped forward and hurtled off the cliff.
I looked down.
My body lay on the rocks far below, arms and legs outflung. Bra still pushed up, bikini pants down around my hips and blood leaking redly, viscously from my shattered head.
The man smiled and pulled me down.
"Naughty girl, you have sinned and to sin is to die."
I looked and his face changed to the face of death and I felt the endlessly eternal pain of hell stabbing into my pussy and hacking at my breasts.
He smiled again.
"Ah yes my dear, the pain? You don't enjoy that do you? My dear the pain is eternal.
He grabbed me and we hurtled downward. Blood burst from every orifice of my body.
I screamed........................................................

The Second Tale

I cooked all afternoon.
Mixing ingredients, lighting flames, heating, stirring, preparing.
When everything was ready, I spent the evening, putting it all together. Packing, arranging, even decorating.
Finally my surprise gift was finished and I went to bed a happy girl.
The next morning I delivered it to them.
My carefully wrapped parcel.
My surprise.
I took up a position, not too close, but not too far away, where I would be able to see when they opened it. I had gone to so much trouble, I didn't want to miss the moment when it was opened. Someone picked it up and I watched as they showed it to each other. I could see them talking about it and although I couldn't hear a word they said, I knew they were intrigued and quite unaware of what I had so carefully made for them.
Then they opened it. That was the best part.
I watched as they untied the ribbon.
Snipped the string.
Unwrapped the paper.
The blast took out everyone in the room and quite a few in the street outside. All of the glass came shattering out of the windows like a constellation of stars. It was beautiful. The whole front wall of the pub bowed and then every opening blew apart and the debris was like fireworks night.
A bomb is a very democratic form of death. It kills indiscriminately and it strips its victims of any dignity. Men with their shirts torn open. Women with their skirts lifted and their white thighs and secret places laid bare for all to see. Breasts, carefully shielded from view normally, open to view now, tops, shirts, brassieres torn off. Children laid out like discarded toys, their little bodies scattered in unnatural poses. A young girl, not yet a woman stripped totally naked and flung like a rag doll over a broken mail box.
And the blood. So much blood.
I heard the clanging of the sirens and walked away.
I hurried to Liam's.
Within minutes of reaching his place I was in bed with him.
Death is such a powerful aphrodisiac.
His cock filled my quim and he rode me desperately like a jockey in some mad surreal race. I sweated buckets and moaned and my breath whistled out and I screamed with ecstasy. I was alive, so alive and they were dead, all dead.
I saw the bodies in my head. I would always see the bodies in my head.
It is my reward. The culmination of my hate filled dreams.
My prize.
My triumph.