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Monster Mayhem
Monster Mayhem
Monster Mayhem
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Monster Mayhem

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Monsters and more, monsters galore! What hides in the shadows or lurks in the night? What reaches out for your throat to provoke a scream that curdles your blood, to violently tear the life from your body? Could this be your answer? This full-length collection of dark prose, short stories and novellas will surely appease your palate for all things beastly and ghastly. Rating: HIGH controversy.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 10, 2012
ISBN9781301350841
Monster Mayhem
Author

Raymond Towers

Raymond Towers is an author of fantasy, horror and science fiction that strays away from the mainstream, plus a little in the way of true paranormal and other genres. He has written and independently published over forty titles, most of them full-length novels and collections, with several more on the way. The author has been a lifelong resident of warm and sunny southern California, a location that pops up frequently in his writing. At the moment, the author is looking for ways to reach new readers all over the world, in addition to pursuing his great love of writing and taking it to the next level.

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    Book preview

    Monster Mayhem - Raymond Towers

    About the cover: The cover image is titled Angry Zombie At The Window. It was produced by Ron Sumners and can be found at Dreamstime.

    About this title: Monsters and more, monsters galore! What hides in the shadows or lurks in the night? What reaches out for your throat to provoke a scream that curdles your blood, to violently tear the life from your body? Could this be your answer? This full-length collection of dark prose, short stories and novellas will surely appease your palate for all things beastly and ghastly. Rating: HIGH controversy.

    #####

    Other e-books by Raymond Towers:

    A Terrible Thing To Waste

    Apocalypse Now!

    Before The Seven 1 – Don Diego Meets Lucky Luis

    Demonic Murmurs Collection

    Dobrynia’s Path 1 – Dark Harbinger

    Dobrynia’s Path 2 - Ragnarok

    Roaches In The Attic 0 – Non-Retrieval

    Roaches In The Attic 1 – First Contact

    The Black Cellar

    The Throwback

    The Two Sides Of Humburg

    Two Bedroom Cottage

    Variant Worlds 1 Collection

    Varriano 1 – The Case Of The Missing Q-Drives

    Monster Mayhem

    A Collection Of Horror By

    Raymond Towers

    Smashwords Edition

    Copyright 2012 Raymond Towers

    Smashwords Edition, License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    All of the characters in this e-book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, whether living or dead, is purely coincidental.

    This e-book contains a HIGH amount of controversial subject matter.

    #####

    Table Of Contents

    Introduction

    For The Appetizer, The Tried

    And True From Mythology

    Monster

    Moonlit Revelry

    The Lady Of Pearls

    When The Madness Comes

    Bottles Of Wine Vs Beasts Of The Night

    Midnight Rendezvous 1

    Midnight Rendezvous 2

    Midnight Rendezvous 3

    Blood Streams

    For The Main Course,

    Some More Exotic Dishes

    Bus Stop Curiosity

    Hidey-Hole Monster

    A Really Bad Burger

    Rounding Up Carts

    Belligerent

    Last Cup Of Coffee

    Hitting The Mall

    The Mass

    Not Too Much Wine,

    Or You’ll Get Tipsy!

    The Frog Prince

    The Frankenfrog

    Bad Move

    Terence The Terror

    Watering The Yard

    Crazy Rhino

    Bradford’s Guest

    Franken-Cock

    And Of Course, Our House

    Specialty, Zombies For Dessert

    The Dead Will Rise

    Dead World

    Accursed

    Arousal

    Teddy’s Visitor

    Clammy Feet

    Out For Lunch

    Empty Sockets

    Dead Jerry

    Rodrigo’s Corpse

    Dad’s Back

    I Came Back Alone

    Back Already? Our Buffet Line

    Has A Little Bit Of Everything

    Some Bullshit Is Going On In Benton

    Day One

    Day Two

    Day Three

    Day Four

    Aftermath

    About The Author

    Author Website

    Introduction

    Monsters. We’re all afraid of monsters, aren’t we? From vampires and werewolves, to bugs and spiders, from things we know, to things we don’t know and don’t care to know, to my personal favorites, the walking, stalking and eternally hungry Undead.

    They’re all here, grinning and waiting to sink their fangs into you, or to howl maniacally as they rip you apart, leaving scattered blood and gore for others to find in the morning. Thirty-eight writhing pieces of dark fiction, in novella, short story and prose, each patiently waiting their turn to thrill you and chill you, to make your stomach queasy and to dare you to keep turning the pages.

    Open wide, and take a bite out of them, before they take a bite out of you. Here they come!

    #####

    The Appetizer

    Monster

    Down in the cellar, the monster creeps,

    During the day, this monster sleeps,

    But at night, the monster often escapes,

    So lock your doors and shut the drapes.

    If you’re out at night, walking the streets,

    Perhaps, perchance, this monster you’ll meet.

    If it should see you, you’d best beware,

    Walk with sure steps and don’t be scared.

    For if you panic and reveal your fright,

    The monster will swallow you up in the night.

    You may try to run, but it will catch you in flight,

    The monster will swallow you up in the night.

    #####

    Moonlit Revelry

    Entranced I was by their ethereal beauty, as I hid behind the gathered leaves.

    Visible in their radiant splendor, the tiny sprites danced unaware of me.

    Their unclad bodies gleamed a pale tinge as they floated about in a widening arc,

    From the streaks of moonlight slicing through the drawn veil of consuming dark.

    So completely enchanted was I then, I stood numb as they approached my form.

    Their gazes displayed contempt and pity, for all my clothes were tattered and torn.

    Darest thou spy on our winter ritual? One of the sprites did venture forth.

    I explained my presence in the forest for indeed I’d fled from the faraway north.

    My crime had been that of being hungry, for I’d stolen from a vendor’s stand.

    For this justice must be served! The sprite concluded with a wave of her hand.

    Diving like a pack of ravenous vultures, the group of fairies did fall upon me,

    Their teeth and claws scratching and tearing at my flesh, and forcing me to flee.

    Stumbling and flailing I staggered away, one ruptured eye leaving me half blind.

    The merciless sprites still bit at my back, for no quarter from them could I find.

    Until wrenching in agony I did reach out, catching a wicked sprite in my grasp,

    With a vow of vengeance I did gnash at its body as the rest drew back and gasped.

    Dropping the morsel, minus its head and shoulders, onto a patch of moonlight,

    I took advantage of their numbed pause to bolt recklessly into the night.

    How I escaped, it does elude me, but by morning I managed to find a town,

    Admitting my crimes, I accepted arrest rather than roam free past sundown.

    Secure in a cell I glance outside, wondering if the sprites would find me tonight.

    For my petty crimes I would pay, but I’d much rather be jailed than eaten alive.

    #####

    The Lady of Pearls

    Or The Tale Of 100 Zombies

    One hundred zombies outside the front door,

    Struggling, clamoring, dying to get in.

    Numerous thumps around the inn walls,

    Wails that mimic the empty howl of the wind.

    A single purpose for their twisted existence,

    To snuff one more life for their bloodthirsty master.

    Events that would befall any weaker man,

    Although it is true, I am starting to falter.

    Take Roberts, leader of our failed expedition,

    Who dropped from mere fright only a few minutes prior.

    (I might have taken a moment to mourn over the loss,

    Were present circumstances not so painfully dire.).

    Or the trooper who’d taunted me, Corporal Smith,

    Who’d tried near single-handed to fend off the wolves.

    He’d held a bold front to eventually succumb,

    His severed head on the porch as a form of reproof.

    And let’s not forget Serenyi the Indian guide,

    Whose famed expertise first led us to the caves.

    He was the first to fall to the ravenous rodents,

    Which poured from the walls in murderous waves.

    I’d been terrified, weak, up until that very moment,

    When my gaze settled upon our elusive prize.

    The mythical Lady of Pearls, bound in chains of gold,

    A sight rarely, if ever, witnessed by human eyes.

    Imprisoned in the earth since the beginning of time,

    For spurning the love of the great Mountain King.

    She glanced over my form with her immortal gaze,

    And in my heart I felt my own emotions stirring.

    With her composure intact and her head proudly erect,

    My heart was ensnared, could any sane man truly resist?

    Boldly, I defied the Mountain King’s wrath and displeasure

    By venturing forth a kiss and a cup of her breast.

    Then the mountain did shake, and walls began to crumble,

    And a torrent of plagues was unleashed to our number.

    First came the rats, then the spiders and scorpions,

    Ruining our plans of both pillage and plunder.

    From the depths of the mist came the dark Mountain King,

    Even as we fled through the maze of the caverns.

    When Serenyi was felled, we heard the King’s wicked cackle,

    And I turned and spat out, Mark my words, I will have her!

    We emerged into the forest, intent on massing defense,

    But most of our porters had already been slain.

    The survivors, Corporal Smith encouraged with a rallying cry,

    As the crazed wolves lunged, baring dark crimson fangs.

    Through craft and cunning the beasts broke through our ranks,

    Cutting us down, each time leaving fewer and fewer.

    The dark King himself then entered into the fray,

    And with his sharpened bone spear, turned Smith into a skewer.

    The soldier’s dead body, the demon hoisted aloft,

    Our backbone now shattered, we’d no choice but to flee.

    The wolves then dropped back as we ran through the woods,

    Leaving us to a new threat we’d yet to see.

    In darkness we stumbled, heading back towards the inn,

    And through our nostrils we perceived old rot and decay.

    A muffled cry of hidden struggle meant another lost soul,

    And we found ourselves wondering if we’d see light of day.

    Only two of our ranks reached the protection of the inn,

    And that’s when Roberts and I saw the creatures at our backs.

    It was one hundred zombies, by my close estimation,

    Setting up columns and lines for their impending attack.

    Yet they refrained from assault, awaiting orders from their King.

    We’d time to build up defenses, with not a second to waste.

    The inn was deserted and still, save for our laboring breaths,

    And with furniture we boarded up the windows in haste.

    The Mountain King roared, and one hundred zombies lunged,

    As our rifles spat fire to return the dead to their deaths.

    The maligned corpses only paused, not even fragments expired,

    But we continued our volleys until all our rounds were spent.

    Still our battle raged, as dead limbs found openings,

    Which our machetes hacked through, as if slicing through brush.

    The writhing appendages were tossed into the fireplace,

    And we were thoroughly exhausted as six o’clock struck.

    One hundred zombies, perhaps as weary as we were,

    Were all losing their strength with growing dawn light.

    And when Smith’s still cursing head hit the boards of the porch,

    Well, poor Robert’s heart seized, and the fool died of fright.

    Watching the zombies slump over robbed me of strength,

    My body collapsing and sprawling onto the floor.

    The Mountain King’s voice issued a direct challenge,

    Return to the caverns tonight! Then I was conscious no more.

    I awoke with a shake, a shiver, sometime in the late afternoon,

    My aches and cuts denying that it had all been a dream.

    Roberts’ neck had a wriggling zombie hand wrapped around it,

    At that moment I didn’t know whether to laugh or to scream.

    The battered front door now rested on a single hinge,

    And without much effort, I was able to force it aside.

    One hundred rotting corpses I’d have to gather and burn,

    Otherwise I might have to face them again that very night.

    When Corporal Smith’s head saw me, it let fly with curses,

    Scolding me for letting it sunburn all day on the porch.

    Like a steak, I turned it over on its uncooked side,

    Careful not to touch the wolf bites, or the side that was scorched.

    A grim task lay ahead, to face the Mountain King that night,

    I thought as I lit the first of many fires.

    A few weapons I still had, and Smith’s head could at least bite,

    And in the end, I would die or gain that which I so desired.

    Lady of Pearls, Lady of Pearls,

    Tonight, tonight, I come for you.

    Do not despair, my Lady of Pearls,

    For tonight, tonight, I come for you.

    #####

    When The Madness Comes

    A lonely house, the dead of night, several shots of rum.

    A mind in anguish, dark despair and then the madness comes.

    The seated figure, flickering shadows, the TV blazes on,

    A transformation in the moonlit night and then the madness comes.

    The snarl of rage, the hasty exit, shattered glass on the floor.

    The need to hide, the limping stride, a grim reflection by a store.

    Realization, fits of rage, the fury burns inside.

    A need to strike, an urge to kill, the lusting for a life.

    Echoes, footsteps, panting breaths, the increase of the stride.

    The reaching claws, the shock, the fear, the struggle deadened by the night.

    A fallen victim, a fading heart, death saturates the air.

    The hunger filled, diminished thrill, a retreat to the lair.

    The chilling breeze, the blood soaked trail, a sudden remorse felt.

    Bitter tears and wrenching moans for the hand that fate has dealt.

    The familiar seat, the forgiving screen, half a bottle of rum.

    No choice save that to sit and wait until the madness comes.

    #####

    Bottles of Wine Vs Beasts of the Night

    I should have gone down to the shelter tonight,

    Where the blankets are itchy, the mattresses worn.

    For I find that it might have been far more pleasant,

    Than lying here in the bushes and now, all alone.

    It had been shaping up as a nice, quiet evening,

    As the cops drove by slowly, not giving a care.

    Even the hoodlums only threw a couple of stones

    Before they too took a hike and strutted elsewhere.

    Then, of all things, toothless Rudy came by,

    Teasing me and flashing a full bottle of wine.

    What made things worse, I had craved it so much,

    And visions of liquor filled the whole of my mind.

    I begged him for a swig, for a taste, for a sip,

    But toothless Ol’ Rudy wasn’t giving a drop.

    I offered my cans, but he shook his head no,

    So I kicked dirt in his face and finally gave up.

    I pouted and trudged away bitter and bent,

    Scouting for a spot some ten yards away.

    As I rolled out my blanket, kicked off my shoes,

    I wondered if Rudy would ever be swayed.

    Perhaps I could wait, until he fell to snoring,

    Then quietly creep to the sleeping man’s side.

    If I played my cards right, I’d be swiping that bottle

    And whatever liquor he’d left, would be all mine!

    I pretended to doze, but it had been a long day,

    And with weary sighs I succumbed to fatigue.

    It must have been midnight, when I finally roused,

    With delight I discovered Rudy still lay asleep.

    His snores rasped away like a bear’s in the winter,

    But before I could move I heard a twig snap.

    There was another among us, treading through foliage,

    And quietly I withdrew my knife from my sack.

    I was struck by a smell of stale sweat and urine

    Mixed in with the powerful musk of wet dog.

    And after the low rumble that I knew was a growl,

    A hasty retreat was all I could think of.

    The beast was quicker, thrashing through bushes,

    Splintering twigs as I froze from the fright.

    I heard it pounce upon helpless Ol’ Rudy,

    Sounds of their struggles carried through the night.

    He’d no time to scream, as his cries became muffled,

    Eclipsed moments later by a deafening roar.

    Clothes were heard ripping, and leaves rustled about

    From Rudy’s lips came a most gruesome moan.

    The voice wavered, trembled as it slid past my ears,

    The dire sounds of a man emitting death throes.

    Then it slipped away quickly and died into the night,

    Replaced by the snapping and crunching of bones.

    I heard a new kind of tear, that of the rending of flesh,

    And for a ridiculous moment, I remembered the wine.

    Until the gnashing of teeth slapped me back to reality,

    And the warm smell of blood made me fear for my life.

    That, my dear reader, is how I ended up here,

    Filled to the brim with anxious indecision.

    What would you do, if you were in my shoes?

    Run with abandon, or hold fast your position?

    Has the beast smelled my scent, or only that of Rudy?

    And can it differentiate between one and two?

    And if I flee and give away my position,

    Is the animal’s belly satisfied, or will it pursue?

    Many questions to ask, very little time to decide,

    For poor old Rudy constitutes a meager meal.

    With my head pounding, and my heart hammering,

    Just how well can this damned creature hear?

    Finally, do these old bones have what it takes?

    To muster up courage and mount an attack?

    Will they wilt under such strain and pressure,

    Or surprise with adrenaline and force the beast back?

    A hard cross to bear, that much is certain,

    But time is ticking away, both for me and for you.

    If faced with such an insurmountable crisis,

    Tell me, please tell me, what would you do?

    #####

    Midnight Rendezvous 1

    Midnight rendezvous in an empty graveyard, where although the climate is well tempered, frequent chills course through my body with each and every step that I take.

    I’ve placed myself in no minor peril by coming to this most unholy site, to mingle among the darkest shadows and the ghosts of the dead. Yet risk my being I must, for so great is my longing for the one who has taken such a hold and captivated my aching heart.

    There are watchers among the tombstones, keeping their distance at the moment, yet ready to pounce like angry snakes should the opportunity be allowed.

    Into the cemetery I plunge deeper, ignoring those that would do me harm, for eventually I do discover her, below the branches of a dying tree. She is leaning against the coarse trunk, her head turned away from me, and in her hand she holds a single black rose that is as dead as everything else here.

    Ignoring my presence, she sways with the breeze, but I have come too far a distance and risked too great a stake that I defiantly refuse to be denied. Summoning my strength, I pin her against the tree, and in the waning and spotty moonlight witness the traces of warm blood on her lips that betray her recent feeding. My jealous ardor has been aroused at the thought of her warm embrace with another, and I utter a curse with envious words that the blood should have been my own.

    And she knows this all too well, as she easily throws me onto the grass, discarding beside her the cloak that she wears and teasingly mounting me with her seductive form. Her fierce claws rip away at my clothing, unforgiving as they graze against my soft skin, until we are no longer restricted from one another and our bodies meet in the darkest of embraces.

    For a brief time, the two of us are in union, issuing the soft moans from the lips of lovers that carry through the air and over the graves, inviting nearer those who sulk among the tombs. But in these moments of passion and climax my only thoughts are gathered towards the being whose body trembles and shudders above mine, while our hands are gripped tightly together.

    And then her weakening and utter collapse brings her mouth dangerously close to my throat and the sharp needles that are her curse bring the taste of death into my flesh.

    As before, I am torn in the midst of two worlds: The one, to preserve my carnal existence, the other, to succumb to the intoxicating fumes of the afterlife, until my thoughts fade away into the black night.

    And when I awaken, cold and pale and naked, with countless new scars that I must account for, searching for the cloak that might have been left behind, and grasping at explanations for my absence, yet all the while looking past these mundane trivialities and further into the future towards my next midnight rendezvous.

    #####

    Midnight Rendezvous 2

    Demon ears, calloused and gnarled, twitch, intently listening to my plodding footfalls as they rustle leaves and snap twigs, announcing my arrival into their dark domain.

    How many times, I did proceed to wonder, had my lost brother traversed this very path? Obscured as it was by the dreadful fall of night and the rising, chilly mist from the nearby swamps.

    The soft beat from leather wings kept pace with me, and through the dim and lonely moonlight, my eyes gazed upon numerous, nameless headstones. But who in their sane mind would choose this place for burial?

    With a slight clearing of fog there appeared before me one of the more daring of the many pursuing devils. It was a miniature Buddha, its skin sickly and green, its limbs short and thick like those of an infant. We were at an impasse, this grinning ghoul and I, its wide-open mouth revealing both rotten and serrated teeth. I pulled forth my sword from its hidden scabbard under my cloak and with a single, powerful slash rent the shocked specter in two.

    Crouching defensively, I awaited the assault from the horde of evil. Instead of the nightmarish charge I expected, I was met by a symphony of unnerving howls and cackles, the hideous laughter from the dozens of goblins concealed among the trees.

    Pressing on further into the woods, I left this madness behind, coming a few minutes later to a makeshift gallows. Upon inspecting the handful of dangling corpses, with some relief I discovered none of these were my brother’s.

    Recanting a silent prayer for the dead, I abandoned the gallows, carefully striding, ever deeper into the greedy clutches of the woods, where the branches reached out with their twisted, barren fingers and the night eagerly tried to swallow me in her gloomy mouth.

    I stepped into a dark clearing, trespassed only feebly by moonlight, where I observed, among the dead foliage and remnants of spider web, several clusters of those damned black roses favored by my brother, and in their midst, the pair of star-crossed lovers that I sought.

    Kneeling among the black blooms was the she-devil seductress, who at my approach raised her head to reveal sad and distraught eyes. Resting against her bosom was a dead and desiccated form, clothed in attire that I recognized as belonging to my brother.

    Tears of lamentation broke through the steel of my resolve, the sudden flood of anguish and pain sinking me onto one knee. For a bitter moment, I stared into my kin’s shriveled and lifeless face and into the listless visage of the vampire that had become his undoing.

    As I returned to my feet, and with the gentleness of a mother, the vampire slowly lowered my brother’s body to the comfort of the roses. In one graceful motion the wretched lady arose to her own feet, without neither fear nor care for the honed, steel sword I held in my grasp.

    Menacing growls and rumbles began to emanate from all directions, as her demonic legion awaited her command to come forth and slay. But incredibly, instead of unleashing her awaiting hordes of minions, she turned to dismiss them with a mere wave of her arm.

    After this she lingered in silence, this solemn causer of death, until finally she stepped around the stiff form of my slain sibling and walked directly underneath a lone ray of moonlight, where I was at last able to clearly gaze into her countenance. She was beautiful, strikingly so, precisely as my brother’s diary described, with her hair long and black and cascading down to her slender midriff. Her eyes, gazing into mine, were cold and penetrating like daggers, and her black lips as dark as the image of death she had become.

    As I tightened the grip of my sword, she reached slowly to her middle, unclasping the single loop of coarse thread that held her robe, shunning it from her lean shoulders until it dropped to her feet, while reluctantly, suspiciously, my eyes ran the length of her body.

    The vampire’s skin radiated a milky white in the bask of moonlight, the single ray illuminating the supple roundness of her breasts, followed a few inches below by the soft protrusion of her growing belly, to ultimately cast a silvery sheen on the slenderness of her legs.

    Searching upwards and into her eyes, I could only discover regret, regret at having become enamored of a mortal, my unfortunate brother, regret at having taken his life in order to break that impossible love, and regret at the impossibility of carrying her unborn child to full term.

    Heavy tears of resignation sprung forth from those sorrowful eyes, and in a summoning of strength, I lifted my sword to deliver the killing blow. Fully expectant, the vampire made no attempt to prevent her own demise and remained still as the tip of my blade pierced into the depths of her heart.

    Gasping for forgiveness, the she-devil slid from my sword to the ground, but as I dragged her body next to that of my brother’s, I had none for her. For one final time, the two ill-fated lovers were again at each other’s side, I thought, as I reached into a pocket for the sharpened crucifix I’d brought along.

    After lodging the object deep within her chest, I set about in a search for twigs, and although these were to be found in abundance in all directions, it nevertheless took my dejected self a considerable amount of time before I could produce enough embers for the resulting funeral pyre.

    Tossing dried leaves and broken branches onto the leaping flames, only a single creature of the night dared oppose my unholy actions. It was a tiny gremlin, composed mostly of matted hair and discolored teeth, with thin and bony limbs and black, curved claws on both hands and feet.

    With a great deal of morbid curiosity, I stared at the small creature, holding it at bay with slight pressure from the bottom of one boot, even as it gnashed its sharp fangs and tore away at the thick sole and fervently cried and thrashed for its now deceased mother.

    This then, was the resulting offspring of mortal man and immortal woman, I contemplated, finally skewering the struggling hellion with the sword, and lifting its small, impaled body into the eagerly lapping flames, where it hideously writhed and screeched itself into oblivion.

    My revenge exacted, I quietly abandoned the accursed patch of hell, hoping the fire would spread and destroy the entire Godforsaken land, where the formerly fierce ghouls and goblins now stayed at a far distance from he who had dared entered their domain in order to slay them.

    It was not until the advent of morning, after my own shock had subsided, after I’d buried my tainted clothing and taken a bath in near scalding water, that I was finally at peace, and allowed myself to further mourn over the grievous and injurious loss of my beloved only brother.

    Some time later, my thoughts once again did begin to settle, on the accursed devil that he’d taken as his lover, and on the frightening hell spawn that might have been his son or daughter, before I rid the gruesome matter from my mind, forever.

    #####

    Midnight Rendezvous 3

    It was a sharp, black rain that began to fall upon the darkened streets, driving itself into my skin like sinister, thin coffin nails, clearing the cobblestone avenues of pedestrians. I should have fled along with them, but somehow I knew there would be no safe refuge for me, not on this unholy night.

    A nervous skittering alerted me, the city’s vermin roused from the depths of the foulest sewers and most putrid decay, and although my stride increased with the utmost urgency, these rats, with glowing red eyes and jagged bristles of fur, poured from their hiding places and mimicked my steady pace.

    There was a scream that set my agitated body to trembling, perhaps issued by an unfortunate damsel of the night as she witnessed the army of ferocious rodents swirling about. As to her fate, I can tell you no more, but as to mine, it might have been sealed as the heavy stone door of a long forgotten crypt.

    They were everywhere, these foul little creatures, leading me, cornering me, snaring me into their makeshift labyrinth of evil, until finally I stood at an impasse, blocked on three sides by walls, wading ankle deep into overflowing sewage and scattered debris.

    The rats halted, or were halted, loitering a few yards from my person, chattering among themselves and occasionally snapping their malignant jaws, until a very palpable presence stilled their noisy and aggressive natures.

    Of course, I knew what this meant, and moments later she appeared, casually sauntering through the midst of the wildly squirming vermin, gently caressing her own throat and bosom as she wickedly came near.

    Despite my fear, I found the she-devil to be a most alluring creature, as I took in her form fitting, pitch-black gown, and the magnificent swell of her breasts. The sleeves of her gown were accented with additional strips of black fabric, which gently swayed with the casual whim of the cool night breeze, and contrasted sharply with the paleness of her skin. An unholy pendant, the shape of an upside down cross, forged in silver and with an onyx inlay, hung from her throat like a dead man at the gallows. Most striking of all were her eyes and lips, eyes deep and penetrating, lips the color of fresh blood, and as she hovered near to me, I slipped a gasp.

    She was as beautiful as she was vile, and I understood now something I never could before, how my brother could have allowed himself to be seduced by such a terrible demon. The poor fellow, he’d been murdered by that first beguiling siren, and in turn, that miserable hellion had met her demise with the blessed edge of my sword.

    But this one, with her long and flowing hair in a fiery and dark shade of red, I could not as easily dismiss from my thoughts as I had that other. Like a moth to a flame, my very essence was drawn towards her, and the strong scent of her skin intoxicated and inflamed my passion.

    Perhaps this is how the vixen lured her victims to their gruesome dooms, but there was no trace of foreplay in her threatening demeanor, only her stern countenance and the quiet display of her glistening fangs. She was determined to kill me, of that I had not a sliver of a doubt, but also as clear, she was utterly confused as to why I was not wholly terrified of her.

    Surprising the demon as much as I surprised myself, I lunged at her, feeling the coldness of her white flesh as my arms embraced her shocked form, daring to taste the velvet softness of her lips both for the first and last time. Even as her strong hands gripped at my arms and her nails scratched away flesh, I held her head close to mine, forcing my frenzied lips onto her cold and lifeless ones.

    With the strength of three men, she shoved me back until I was halted by a wall, staring into my inflamed eyes while her own black emotions teetered between hate and lust.

    With my passion so fiercely ignited, I wrestled against those powerful limbs, resolving that, even in the face of such a hideous death, I would not be denied. Barely, I managed to shift her aside. As if expectant of a try for escape, the she-devil encircled her arms around my struggling and defiant body.

    Instead of drawing away, however, I braced my legs and drove myself to her, slamming her back into the very same wall she’d sought to pin me against, grinding my lips against hers even as my wanting hand sought out her cold breasts. A shudder issued from her body, followed by our erotic struggle for dominance, which I eventually understood to be the devil’s method of foreplay.

    My hand sought out her womanhood, discovering it both warm and moist, the only recognizable trace of life

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