2 comments/ 10258 views/ 4 favorites Cthasguahafgh By: nicecthulhu Thank you to VinsanityOrElse for his editing help. I assume it's common knowledge that the R.C.M.P. is the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and members of this federal police force are often referred to as Mounties. The L.C.B.O is the Liquor Control Board of Ontario, but it is also commonly used to mean an L.C.B.O. store, one of the government-owned liquor stores found in the province of Ontario. 1 In my rage I slammed my fist down on the table. Then I forced myself to calm, sat back in the chair and looked into the eyes of the men in the 'interview' room. They wanted me to break and confess to murder, but after what I'd been through there was nothing they could do that would induce me to change my story. "Look," I began in a calm tone, "I'll tell you the whole thing again, but this is the last time! I've told you everything twice already and I don't expect you to believe me. But I want to see her!" The three R.C.M.P. officers glanced nervously at each other. The psychologist stared at me intently, trying to piece together whatever had 'really' happened back up at our house from every inflection in my voice and tick in my face. I didn't know how they had gotten him to the interrogation so fast, and I didn't care. A fourth officer suddenly opened the door, walked over to one of the others who was watching me and whispered something into his ear. "Son, you have to realize how crazy your story sounds..." began the spectacled psychologist in a friendly tone. "We'll take you to her if you tell us the story one more time," said the new cop in a flat voice. The balding doctor glared at him. "Okay, now we're getting somewhere." I licked my lips and a constable pushed a glass of water across the table toward me. "At least one of you is willing to listen to reason." I giggled and then started laughing like a madman. As I regained control over myself I noticed the psychologist busily making notes. "Are you hoping to publish a paper in some prestigious and stuffy old scientific journal, or are you writing down my monster story for a horror novel?" Now the spectacled face turned to me and glared. One of the Mounties cleared his throat pointedly. I put my hands up in surrender. "Don't worry. I'm going to tell you guys the whole thing again. I'm as tired as you are, and I want to see Cyn." 2 We'd driven slowly through the isolated town, found our turn and headed off into no-man's-land. The pick-up jumped and jostled and Cyn woefully predicted that the movers probably hadn't managed to preserve any of our breakables. The road wasn't quite a road and I prophesied that Cyn would be helping me clear snow during the winter. That put a smile on her face; she was one of those women who wasn't afraid of a little manual labour. We weren't too downhearted about the move. In fact, we were still quite excited about it. I work for a mining company and there had been an opening that meant a promotion and hefty raise. Cyn and I had discussed it for several days, but in the end she had stared at me with those soft, green eyes and we started packing. She'd been a small town girl and was eager to settle down and possibly raise a family, once we found a place outside of Toronto. I'd grown up in the 'centre of the universe' and was tired of it. Moving to Beaver Falls was a chance for us to start our life together, away from apartment buildings, gangs and long line-ups. The movers had already brought our stuff up, and Cyn had talked one of her artsy-fartsy friends into arranging everything so the house would be ready when we arrived. A large bump shook the whole pick-up as Cyn was stuffing the directions into the glove box. "Aren't you going a little fast?" she asked without looking at me. "Sorry." I slowed down and was then able to avoid most of the dips and bumps on the road. "I thought you were as eager to see our new place as I am." She flashed me a smile. "As long as we make it there alive, sweetie." The road circled around a thick grouping of pine trees and then there it was. I let the vehicle coast to a stop. The house was easily four times the size of anything we could have afforded in the city. The walls were stone, the roof was peaked and there was a balcony on the second floor. It was a grand house, and the inspection had verified that it was in great shape, despite the fact that no-one had lived in it for over a decade. We'd managed to buy it for much less than the realtor had thought likely. "Wow! It looks so old!" "Only about sixty years," I recited. "Built during the Second World War." Although, I agreed with her assessment, our new home was styled to look much older than it was. "Out here that's old and look at it! It's in great condition!" She took a long, deep breath. "I'm so glad we did this," she said, placing her hand on my leg. "Between the house and this scenery you're going to have lots of inspiration." She glanced at me. "You always inspire me, honey. Or were you talking about my artwork?" I smirked. "Oh, you're artistic all right. Or do you mean your drawings and paintings for those children's books?" "Is that all you ever think of?" I rolled my eyes and stepped on the gas. Cyn's eyes were now glued to the house and once I pulled up in front of the porch, she slowly undid her seat belt and opened the door. The afternoon sun behind the house cast a shadow over us. "So, you do like it then?" I asked. "Francis said the photos didn't do it justice, but..." Cyn walked up the stairs to the porch and then took a deep breath. "It has such character!" Cyn had fallen in love with this house while just looking at the photos of the old-fashioned stone and mortar walls and the thick wooden beams stretched across many of the ceilings. I rolled my eyes and began to unload our necessities from behind our seats. By the time I'd collected the bags, she'd already disappeared inside. By the time I struggled inside with the bags, she'd already disappeared to explore the various rooms. I shrugged and lugged the bags upstairs and along the balcony which overlooked much of the main floor. I dropped them in the master bedroom and took a quick look around. I had to admit that Francis had known what he was doing. The room looked rustic and comfortable. There was an area for Cyn with a little table and chair, not that she was one for spending time prettying herself up. Her long brown hair framed a face that didn't need make-up. I glanced at my own reflection in her mirror and rubbed my rough chin. I could hear Cyn moving happily from room to room, below. I glanced at the bed. "William?" "Coming!" I called out in answer. The hard work began after I found her downstairs. It seemed Francis had not positioned everything quite to Cyn's tastes. It took a couple of hours to rearrange the heavy stuff to her satisfaction, and I think she stopped asking me to move furniture more out of pity for my aching muscles than anything else, but at last we finished and we parked ourselves on the couch. "I guess you're not up to cooking anything right now," I suggested. "I don't really have a choice, unless you plan to make your world famous French toast." "Bah! Let's just go to McDonalds or Swiss Chalet." She frowned at me and shook her head. "That'd be quite a long drive, honey. You really are just a poor city boy, aren't you?" "They must have some type of fast food place..." Cyn shook her head and patted my leg. "You stay here. You did all the driving so I'll whip up something. Check to see what channels we get with the satellite dish." She stood up and then disappeared into the kitchen while I channel surfed. Half an hour later she came back into the room with some mixture of pasta, meat and vegetables. "So what did you find for us to watch?" "Stargate's on." "I'm not sure I like it as much now that O'Neill's a General." We settled down and ate our dinner as it grew dark outside. Towards the end of the show, we finished our plates and Cyn lay down with her head in my lap. I ran my fingers through her hair. The frogs outside were getting a little noisy and I mentally debated turning up the volume on the TV. "You know Bill, I don't really care how the episode ends," she whispered. "Oh?" She rolled over and looked up at me with her bright green eyes. I put my hand on her chest. "You want me to light a fire in the fireplace?" I asked. She considered it for a few seconds. "Maybe we'll try that tomorrow. I can help you chop some wood. Do we have an axe?" I shrugged. She raised her hands to my arm and eased my hand down her chest, across her belly and to her belt. I undid her belt and then unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. She adjusted her position slightly and smiled up at me. I slipped my hand into her pants and cupped her. Cyn wiggled her bottom and I reached down and slipped her jeans off to her thighs. Her panties went with them, leaving her exposed. I ran my fingers through her hair, causing her to murmur. Her breathing sped up, as I pushed my fingers along her skin until I reached her pussy. I used two fingers to spread her lower lips and her legs opened at the same time. I teased her opening for a few seconds by caressing, but not entering. This had her breathing deeper and she closed her eyes. Once she reached the appropriate level of arousal, I ran my thumb up to her clit and began tickling her there. Immediately, she reached down and held my hand in place. Cyn stiffened, bit her lip and held her breath. She shuddered a few times and then relaxed. My fingers were now quite moist. "Was that a little one?" I asked. "Hm-mm," she answered. I waited until she opened her eyes, then raised my fingers to my mouth and sucked off her juices. "That gives me an idea, honey." "I'm sure it does," I answered. Cyn rolled over so she was facing my abdomen and then undid my belt buckle. She sat up, undid my button and unzipped my jeans. She fished into my briefs and pulled out my hardening cock. She flashed me a mischievous look and then bent down and took me into her mouth. For some reason she always began with a suck; it didn't really do anything for me but I wasn't about to complain considering what always followed. She squeezed my penis until the head was free of foreskin, then she licked me as if my member was an ice cream cone. She turned her head this way and that, being sure to caress every side of the head with her delightful tongue. I was hardening, but not very quickly. Cyn liked to take her time with a blowjob, probably because she knew I really enjoyed it. She kept one hand on my penis and stepped off the couch. She shimmied her pants and panties to her feet and then kicked them off. Then she knelt between my legs and put her mouth entirely over the head of my cock. I could feel her tongue teasing and tickling wherever it went. She gently bit down. Then I was free of her mouth and she was pumping my organ with her hands. There was a sweet look of pure concentration on her face as she worked. My erection grew larger and harder, until at last she squeezed it and then smiled in satisfaction. "Front or back?" she asked. "I like to see your face when you orgasm." She smiled. "Front it is, you naughty boy." She stood, and then slowly knelt over me as I lifted her t-shirt over her head. Then, her hands guided my hard-on to her opening and when she lowered herself down I slid in. It was a little painful at first, as it always was when it had been a week or more between lovemaking sessions, but her lubricants quickly remedied that. Cyn began an easy rocking motion that had me easing in and out of her with very little effort. She leaned forward and we kissed. It was a long, wet kiss and by the time it ended Cyn's tempo was quite fast. "Are you close?" she asked between breaths. "Not yet. Go ahead." She nodded and hugged my head to her breasts tightly. She was bouncing upon my lap, now. Her nipples were hard and sweat was running down between her boobs. I licked and then tugged at one of her nipples with my teeth. Cyn grunted and then lost her rhythm. She gasped, "Oh, God," a few times and then collapsed onto me. I gave her a minute or two and then, "Cyn?" "Yeah?" "Are you ready for more?" "Let me lie down, Bill." I lifted her off of me and then helped her balance until she could lie down on the couch. Crawling over her, I lifted her legs as I did so I lowered myself until our mouths met. At first I was just kissing her lips, but then she began to respond with some urgency. I manoeuvred my hips until I could feel my erection was poised at the entrance to her vagina. She nodded mid kiss and I pushed in. She was tight again and she gasped as I plunged as deep as I could. She tried to turn her head away from the kiss, but I wouldn't let her. I pumped my hips, withdrawing and pushing deep. She was so wet that I slid in and out easily, but that didn't matter. I was getting close to my own orgasm and I sped up my thrusts. Cyn tried to move her legs. I know she wanted to wrap them around my hips, but I had them held in place by my arms. I thrust and thrust again. Then I could feel my fluids pumping from my balls and coursing through me. I grunted as I thrust one last time, pushing myself as deep as I could. Then I tried to keep myself from collapsing onto her. "You came?" she asked. I nodded and lifted an arm. She lowered her leg, then I lifted the other arm and she lowered her other leg. "It's okay, honey." She wrapped her arms around my chest and pulled me down on top of her. "Just rest on me. You work very hard to make me happy." I let myself down on to her slowly. "I love you, Cyn." "Not as much as I love you." 3 The days passed happily enough as we mixed flirting and chores. In the evening we wandered around our property, and beyond, hand in hand. The land was rugged and wild. I had expressed some concern about mosquitoes and black flies, but we were attacked by very few of them. Our passage through the brush was noisy enough to scare off the larger animals, for which we were grateful. Neither one of us wanted to startle a bear or a moose. Night after night we made a game of who could spot all five planets first, as the invisible frogs croaked all around us. There was a strange feeling of emptiness in the darkening sky over our heads. We discussed how more primitive civilizations thought the sky was a vault or crystal sphere and how the gods or angels were supposed to live up there. There were some stone ruins a short distance from the house. Cyn and I debated whether they were some strange relic of a native tribe that had long been chased away from the area, or signs that a Viking expedition had somehow made it this far west into Canada. We would head home when the croaking of the frogs became too raucous. Neither of us thought it strange that there should be so many frogs in the woods around our new home. After all, they were keeping the biting insects down to a comfortable minimum. 4 Eventually, we had to return to the town to purchase some food and more cleaning supplies. Cyn mentioned her eagerness to talk to the local historian about the odd monoliths on our property, and I decided to tag along. She had found his name and address in the telephone book, and a little later we pulled up in front of a modest bungalow. Cyn knocked on the door while I kept an eye on the windows, ready to offer a friendly smile to whoever peered out at us. The door opened. "Mister Brighton?" my wife asked. The door opened wider, revealing a hunched, elderly man with bleary eyes and no teeth. "Yes?" "Hi!" She flashed him her friendliest smile. "I'm Cynthia Foster and this is my husband, William." I nodded as the old man turned to me. "We bought the old Huron place and we had a few questions about the large stones on the property. Do you have some time to talk to us?" "Yes. Yes. Come in. Come in." He closed the door behind us. The gloomy front room was filled with newspapers, books and shoe boxes. I looked at Cyn and rolled my eyes. "Find a seat," he suggested. He fished some teeth out of a glass and tried to surreptitiously put them in his mouth. Then, he sat on a pile of shoe boxes that sagged under his small frame. "I don't think we'll be here that long," said Cyn, still standing. "What can you tell us about the stones?" The old man stood and looked at Cyn nervously. "Well, they're very old. They predate the Huron Indians in this region. They go back so far that the Huron didn't even know who put them there." "Ah," I interrupted, "so no-one really knows anything about them." "I didn't say that. The stones are a meeting place between the Indians and their god. The Huron feared this god, naming him 'the clutching doom from the sky'. I'm afraid I've forgotten the actual words. It had an awful lot of consonants." "Why would they want a meeting place for someone they feared, sir?" prompted Cyn. "Well, the legend has it that a barbaric race of Indians once lived around here and they refused to pay respect to the gods commonly worshipped by their brethren. Instead, they revered some twisted and dark force that threatened the stability of the tribes. This tribe was driven out but the evil god remained, hidden away in his stones. A powerful shaman announced that only the love between a man and woman could destroy this spirit once and for all. The brother of the chief loved his mate dearly and the two volunteered to deal with this dark power. But, when they reached the stones, it was revealed that she actually had loved the chief and had taken the chief's brother as a second choice. The two fought and the brave slew his woman. This killing freed the evil spirit and it walked across the land slaying and tormenting all it could find. At last it tired of these evil deeds and it flew off into the night sky, dragging away the bodies of the brave and his mate when it went." "That sounds like something out of a pulp novel," I said rudely. Cyn glared at me. "I don't believe it myself, son. But the Indian legends say that the beast returns on occasion and then flies off into the night sky, once its lust is satiated." The old man glanced at my wife. "Don't worry, my dear. It's just an old Indian legend." "We should be going, Cyn," I hinted. We thanked him for his time and left. I could tell that Cyn was a little unnerved by the tale, so I took her hand as we stepped onto the road. She gave me a smile to show her spirits had lifted. 5 Cyn went in to a grocery store to buy food and necessities while I did a little shopping in the L.C.B.O. I thought it odd that such a small town had no McDonalds but did have a liquor store. I concealed the bottles in the truck, and then walked into a small book and curiosity shop that had been calling out to me since I first had spied it. Cyn had known I wanted to check it out, and that was why she had volunteered to do the grocery shopping without me. There was no name on the front and a small bell jingled as I pushed the squeaky door open. The book store had the same smell as most used book stores and was a little darker than I thought it should be to attract customers. I glanced around, casting my eyes over the travel books, magazines, and hunting and fishing guides that were displayed near the entrance. As usual, what I was interested in seemed to be somewhere deeper within. I strolled past the empty counter, walking around book-covered tables that were partially propped up with boxes containing even more books. There seemed to be no system to the store that I could see; no shelves contained signs declaring fiction, history, aviation, or romance. But my eyes roved and recognizing no names, I went deeper into the gloom. At last I found a few familiar authors and I paused to look over the titles. I heard some shuffling footsteps behind me, but ignored them. There was a cough. Cthasguahafgh "Thank you, I'm just looking while my wife finishes her shopping," I said. "You'd be the couple that bought the house with the old Indian ruins, eh?" asked a raspy voice. I turned and saw three men in their seventies, all with their pants too high, drooping shoulders and thick glasses. They looked strangely similar. My surprise must have shown on my face. "Jebediah saw you pass through town a few days ago with a pretty, young lady. We knew someone had bought that place and most young couples just pass through on their way to somewhere more exciting," said one. Another nodded, suggesting to me that he was Jebediah. "I'm William Foster. We moved up here because of a job transfer." My eyes went from one to the other, even though I tried to concentrate on staring at the speaker. "We're triplets", said the third. "Identical triplets." "I didn't think that was possible." All three chuckled. "You've been up there a few days now. Have you seen anything?" asked one. They all leaned forward to hear my answer. "No moose or bears, yet. We did see a deer yesterday. My wife hopes to see quite a few of the wild animals around here." Two of them looked at the third and he said, "That ain't what we mean, Mr. Foster. Have you seen anything...unusual?" He emphasized the last word. "Oh, you mean like the ghosts of a native couple?" I asked with a laugh. "We heard the story earlier today." The three looked at me seriously and my laughter died. "Every few decades, terrible things happen up there. There've been people that have lived there for years and never had any trouble, but then every few decades..." "Every few decades...what?" I suspected he meant native trouble. Was the house built on land that had been stolen from some native group a hundred years ago? I hoped that if that was the case we'd get a fair offer on the house and property. "You tell him John, you're the eldest," said the second man. The first man pointed a finger at me. "Don't laugh at me or what I'm about to say, young man. That Indian legend is true. Every few decades something comes back and turns someone into a madman. Then the killing starts. Twenty-five years ago it was that Johnson kid." The other two nodded sadly. "He used to sneak up there with his girl. One night he came back covered in blood. He was thrown in jail and a cop was sent up to the house to find the girl's body. The Johnson kid escaped and killed another four people before he disappeared." "Forty-five years ago," began the second, "some hippies were passing through town and they camped up near the house. All that was ever found was their blood-soaked belongings." "It goes on and on," added the third, "as far back as we have any kind of record. As near as we figure, it begins with the ghosts. So have you seen any ghosts, Mr. Foster?" My mouth had gone dry. The realtor had told us none of this. Or, I wondered, was it all some fairy tale meant to scare off newcomers? "No, we haven't seen any ghosts." "Pray you don't." The first one remained while the other two shuffled away through a narrow doorway into a yellow hall. "Were you looking for something in particular?" "Excuse me?" I quickly returned my attention to the speaker. "You came into a book store and you seemed to be reading the titles of the books on those shelves, there, pretty carefully." "Ah, it's just after that ghost stuff..." "We've done what we can to warn you. I know it sounds crazy, but this is a completely normal town aside from the goings on up at your house. Can I help you find a particular book?" I glanced around and noticed Cyn through the window. She appeared to be talking to some guy. I didn't want to interrupt her and she would have brought the guy in to the bookstore if she had wanted me involved. I turned back to the old man, who had now sat down on a stool beside the counter. "About those ghosts - did anyone ever try to investigate? You know, like the cops or some ghost hunters or something?" He rubbed his whiskery chin. "Well, as a matter of fact someone did come up here to investigate the problem. It was some Yankees. They were from some University in New England. That was back in...oh, I was just a kid then. I think the school started with an 'm', Miska...Mississippi or something. They said they were experts in this type of phenomena." He spoke the last word with some disdain. The door bell rang and the old man and I turned to see Cyn walk in. "Oh, there you are Bill! I might have figured you'd be pestering the local book seller, looking for unusual first editions." "Hi, Cyn!" I said. The old man stood and bowed to my wife. "Well, I'm sorry to take you away but we've got frozen food sitting in the truck so we'd better get back home sooner rather than later." She raised her eyebrows and I recognized the signal. "Okay. I'll have plenty of time to come back another day." I turned to the old man. "Thank you for your help, sir." He tilted his head a little and then nodded to me. Cyn and I left and we walked hand in hand to the pick-up truck. "So, who was that you were talking to outside the book store, Cyn?" She gave me a puzzled look. "I wasn't talking to anyone." She looked around. "Do I have a doppelganger here in town?" I shrugged my shoulders. "I guess." 6 I was dreaming that I was driving home from grocery shopping and the pick-up was bouncing over every rut and bump. Cyn was holding on for dear life and yelling at me to slow down. But I wouldn't. For whatever reason, I just knew the eggs in one of the bags weren't going to break. We screeched to a halt in front of our home and Cyn threw herself out of the car. I grabbed one of the cloth bags and held it out for her. She glared at me as I watched the liquid mess dripping from the bottom of the bag. The yellow and white became a pink and then a deep, blood red. Something had a hold on my arm and I awoke with my heart hammering in my chest. "I heard something," Cyn whispered. She was tucked right up to me, under the covers. "Probably a bat, or a squirrel that somehow got in. I'll go chase it out the door." I threw back the covers and we both shivered; the room was freezing. I grabbed my housecoat and put it on. Cyn rose and put on her own thin robe. "I'm not hiding up here while you face off against some wild animal downstairs." I shrugged. Truthfully, I wasn't eager to find out what had made a noise downstairs and was happy to have her company. "I'm amazed you were able to hear any noise over the sound of the frogs." "What frogs?" she asked. I opened my mouth to respond and realized I couldn't hear the usual nighttime frog serenade. "Well that's spooky," I said quietly. Cyn nodded in response. I still hadn't heard a noise from downstairs. I went to the bedroom doorway and listened, but all I could hear was Cyn shuffling over to me in her slippers. I stuck my head out, but didn't see anything amongst the shadows. "I guess we forgot to turn the heater on." She gave me a strange look. "Bill, it was twenty-eight when we went to bed. I'd been thinking about putting the AC on because our bedroom tends to be warmer than the first floor." "I'll check it out tomorrow. It must be on the fritz." I led her along the hall to the balcony and then we looked down into the living room. Everything was silent and still. We went to the stairs and slowly made our way to the main floor. A thought occurred to me. "Cyn?" I whispered. "It's probably something small. I'll check out the kitchen and you check out the laundry room." She nodded and slowly shuffled away. My fear was that a bear had broken in and was busily eating food in our kitchen. I padded to the dining room area, listening carefully. Strangely, everything seemed to be where it was supposed to be. As I drew closer to the kitchen I still heard nothing and when I peaked in it was empty of any pilfering beast. Could she have dreamed she heard a noise, I wondered? Cyn had always been level-headed. She was an artist, but a very grounded one. Suddenly, I heard her gasp in surprise. I whirled around and there was something standing in front of me. It looked like a native warrior, but lacked the eagle feathers I would have expected. He was roughly my height, wore some sort of soft leather shirt and I could see through him. Goosebumps rose along my arms. We stared at each, or more accurately I stared at him in shock while he glared at me. Then he rushed at me with his arms outstretched. I closed my eyes and felt a blast of freezing cold strike me and blow my bathrobe open. Opening my eyes, I looked about but the apparition was gone. Then I remembered that Cyn had gasped in surprise or fright and I raced across the house, bumping into several heavy pieces of furniture in the darkness. I found her standing at the doorway to the laundry room, her hands on opposite sides of the opening as if she were trying to widen the door frame. "Cyn?" She whirled about and my heart broke when I saw the look of hopelessness on her face. "What is it, Cyn?" "Did you see her? She must have run past me and toward you!" "Did I see who?" "The native girl...the ghost!" "Ah, I saw a warrior in the kitchen," I shrugged my shoulders. Cyn jumped into my arms and then we both recoiled. Cyn's skin was like ice! "You're so cold!" she said. "Let's go upstairs and cuddle under the covers until we're both warm again," I suggested. Cyn seemed unsure, but then nodded her head in agreement. A minute later we were snuggled up together in bed. Each of us was lost in our own thoughts and as much as I wanted to discuss what we'd just seen, I couldn't find the words. I was just drifting off when I heard Cyn murmur, "She seemed so sad." 7 The next day we didn't communicate that much. Oh, we talked, but never about what had happened the previous night. I went over maps while Cyn painted and drew. Whenever I peeked over her shoulder I saw foreboding and alien landscapes. That was very unusual for her. I wanted to believe I had dreamed the whole thing, and if I introduced the subject of the ghosts I was afraid that Cyn's memories would confirm my own. So I thrust myself into my work, even though I had another week and a half before I had to report in. And the house seemed very normal, now. That night, I awoke to find Cyn missing from our bed. I rolled over onto my back and let out a deep breath. The air in the room felt warm on my bare chest and arms, and it had a calming effect on me. I turned my head and stared across the room and out the large window. The frogs were beginning to sing their mad song. The sound grew in volume as more and more amphibians joined in. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, wondering if Cyn was feeling okay, and then I decided to go looking for her. I also thought that she might be up to a little fun if she were awake enough at this ungodly hour. I got out of bed and left the room. Reaching the balcony, I saw a light on in the kitchen. I descended the stairs, passed along the short hallway and stepped in to the kitchen. Cyn was sitting with her back to me, doodling aimlessly on a piece of paper while she nursed a glass of wine. "Cyn?" She jumped and slowly turned to face me. "Is it you, Bill?" "Of course it is. Are you all right, honey?" She stood up, took a few hurried steps toward me and then hesitated. She bit her lip and then took the last step, wrapped her arms around my midsection and hugged me tightly. She started sobbing. "Talk to me, Cyn. What's wrong?" "I had a terrible nightmare! I was in bed and I rolled over and put my arm on you, only to find that you felt wet. I opened my eyes and I could see that you'd been skinned! There was blood everywhere! And then you turned to face me and said 'give me a kiss, honey'. I screamed and woke up. I was covered in sweat and I reached out for your arm. Except that you weren't there. I got out of bed to go looking for you, but you walked into the room just as I reached the door. You were all red and bloody and I could see your muscles and tendons and bones and stuff! And then I really woke up and had to get away from you for a few minutes. I'm sorry!" "That's okay, Cyn. You had a bad nightmare. I understand." I rubbed her back while I held her tightly. "Why are you sorry?" "I don't know!" she wailed. I held her for a few minutes, until her crying subsided. "Look, why don't we go back upstairs to bed? It was just a nightmare and you've got it all out of your system now. It's just like last night." She gave me a frightened look, and then it changed to one of confusion. I put my finger on her lips. "Let's just go back upstairs, Cyn." I led her back up to our room and then put her to bed. She didn't resist. A few minutes later she was fast asleep, while I lay awake for several minutes more wondering what it was that she felt sorry for. 8 The next day we avoided each other. We ate breakfast and lunch together, otherwise she did her thing and I did mine. By late afternoon I grew tired of examining old and current mine sites on the rolls of maps, so I went for a walk. Once outside, I picked up a long and fairly straight branch to use as a walking stick and set off along a narrow trail. It wound through the woods and the mix of coniferous and deciduous trees were thick enough at times that I couldn't see more than five to ten metres further along the trail. The chorus of frogs started up the moment I was outside, despite the fact that we were several hours from sunset. As I hiked, I found I was in a zone of not-quite silence. I could hear the frogs at some distance from me, but none of those immediately around me made a sound. It was a little eerie, but I had experienced similar things with wild animals in the past. At last I came into a clearing. It was perhaps seven metres across and all the trees that had grown in the circular area had been cut down so long ago that the stumps were rotted and crumbling. In the centre of the clearing were several large blocks of a type of dark-green stone that I didn't immediately recognize. There were a half dozen standing upright about the clearing, and they varied in height from two to three metres tall. One near the center of the clearing had been knocked onto its side long, long ago. I approached a stone and placed my hand upon it. Surprisingly, it was quite cool. The rock was a serpentine marble and I noticed small flecks of fool's gold in the white veins. I hadn't seen any serpentine marble on the geological maps and I wondered what long forgotten race of man had brought these massive blocks to this exact location, and for what purpose? There was a distinct feeling, or aura, of age and I could well imagine generations of native shamen coming to this spot to conduct their worship of the spirits. I felt intrusive and looked about in embarrassment, but no-one was around. That's when I noticed that the frogs were silent. When I thought about it, I realized that I hadn't heard any frogs since I had drawn near these standing stones. I felt goose bumps rise on my bare flesh, and I decided to walk back to the house. Cyn would be interested in knowing about this site and it might provide some inspiration to her. Then I heard a faint whistling howl and a chill wind blew downwards from above the clearing. I shivered. I wondered if Cyn had already seen the clearing with the odd stones and grew angry. If she had seen it then why hadn't she told me? She knew I was interested in odd things like this! I turned to stomp home and give her a piece of my mind when I suddenly heard the frogs strike up their night music. I took a step and the sound filled the clearing as hundreds of frogs all began to compete in loudness. I threw my hands over my ears to block out the noise. What had I been thinking? It wasn't like Cyn to keep things from me. How could I have thought she'd be so selfish? The frogs quietened to their normal nighttime volume and I uncovered my ears. I glanced up at the sky and realized it was much later in the afternoon than I had thought. I hurried home. The experiences in the clearing grew less important as I went. By the time I arrived, Cyn was just finished cooking dinner and I merely mentioned in passing finding a clearing with some odd rocks. Cyn rolled her eyes at the mention of 'odd rocks' and then we sat down to a quiet dinner. 9 I rolled over and realized that Cyn wasn't where she should be. I opened my eyes and tried to focus. She was talking to someone just outside the bedroom, although I couldn't hear who she was talking to. Sitting up, I stretched and yawned and then put my feet off the bed. I pushed myself up, caught my balance and yawned again. The cold air wasn't making me awaken any faster than normal. "No, I don't want him to ever find out," I heard her whisper. She must be planning a get-together or something, I thought, but I couldn't think of what it might be for. I staggered to the bedroom door and peered out into the dark hall, but Cyn wasn't there. "I know. I feel that way, too," said Cyn and then she giggled. Her voice came from the bottom of the stairs. I walked a couple of steps to the railing and looked down into the living room. She wasn't there. The moon was nearly full tonight and the reflected light bathed every surface in a silvery glow. There was no sound except for my breathing. I remembered the nightmare I'd had a couple of nights earlier about the ghost and shivered. Goose bumps rose on my bare chest and arms. "He doesn't suspect," she whispered from somewhere below. But I couldn't tell where she was. I descended the stairs carefully, keeping a tight grip on the banister. Reaching the first floor, I thought I heard a noise off to my right, near the laundry room. There was a door there that led to a cellar. I put my hand on the doorknob and then jerked it away. It was freezing cold! Then I heard Cyn say something inaudible from behind the door. I ignored the bite of the frigid metal on my bare palm and opened the door. It squeaked in protest and a cool breeze flowed over my flesh, giving rise to more goose bumps. "Cyn? Are you down there?" I called out into the darkness. I heard a giggle in response, and it definitely came from the cellar. I reached out to the light switch and flicked it, but no light went on. There was another sound below and then the sound of something like a paint can dropping to the stone floor. "Cyn? Are you okay?" There was no response. I wondered, what was she doing down there? Guessing she might have hurt herself I headed down the stairs. The deeper into the cellar I descended, the better my eyes adjusted to the blackness. I knew the room was small, but there were shelves and empty barrels and crates throughout the room and Cyn could be anywhere. As my foot touched the bottom step I heard the squeaking of rusted hinges behind me and I turned in time to see the door close. Now I was totally blind. I knew all I had to do was climb back up the stairs but before I could move a cold breeze washed over me. Startled, I took a few steps back and fell into an open crate with a crash. I flailed my arms in a panic, trying to get a handhold to pull myself up. There were noises throughout the cellar, bangs, squeaks, hisses and what sounded like the gnashing of teeth. I managed to pull myself out of the crate and I stood perfectly still, listening to all the noises about me. How could they go on for so long while I was perfectly still? "Cyn!" I called out loudly. The sounds abated. I could hear thumping on the ceiling and I thought I heard the croak of a frog. Then the door was thrown open and Cyn's silhouette was framed in the doorway. "Bill? Are you down there Bill?" she called out nervously. Cthasguahafgh "Yeah." I couldn't hide the tremor in my voice. I climbed the stairs quickly, refusing to look behind me and also refusing to take the steps two or three at a time like a frightened child. "What on Earth are you doing down there?" "I was looking for you, Cyn," I said with an accusing tone. "Me?" "I woke up and you were gone. I could hear you on the phone as you wandered around the house. I thought I heard you down here and then there was a crash and I thought you might be hurt." I reached the top of the stairs and she backed away from me. "Bill, I just woke up when I heard the noise down here. I've been in bed all this time." She took another step back from me. "I heard you on the phone!" "The cell phones don't work up here yet, remember? They're putting in towers or something in the next six months. That's why we made sure there was a landline." She pointed over to the plump, plastic phone sitting innocently on an end table. "I...but I was sure that I heard you planning some..." "I was asleep in bed. You must have had a dream and went sleepwalking, Bill. You've never done that before, have you?" The frogs outside grew louder and my mind seemed to fog. "No, at least...I don't remember ever sleepwalking before. I was so sure I heard your voice down there..." I looked to the cellar. Cyn shivered and slammed the cellar door shut. "You had a nightmare, just like I did last night. Let's go to back to bed." She took my arm and led me upstairs and helped me into bed. I lay on my back and half-noticed Cyn slipping her nightshirt off before she climbed between the sheets. She inched over to my side and cuddled up against me. "You know if you feel up to..." she began. "No. I'm sorry. I'm just not in the mood right now." My tone was a little harsher than I meant it to be and Cyn backed away a little. I laid on my back listening to the amphibian symphony again as Cyn began to snore lightly. I fell asleep a few minutes later. 10 In the morning I awoke with a mission. I was going to get rid of those damned, noisy frogs. Strangely, Cyn agreed heartily. She was an animal person and I expected to have to hash the matter out before putting my foot down. Instead, Cyn suggested that a trip into town to find some way to get rid of the frogs would give us both a much needed break from the odd happenings. I dropped her off at an antique store, while I headed back to that old book store. The bell jingled when I pushed the door open. One of the elderly triplets was snoozing behind the counter. I glanced at him and then began to search the store for books on nature or pest control. After a few minutes I heard, "Can I help you Mr. Foster?" I turned to the man behind the counter, who stared at me a little too inquisitively. He still wore his pants too high. "I'm looking for a book," I said. "Well, this is a book store," he prompted, opening his arms wide. "Was there anything in particular?" "Well, we've got too many frogs up by the house. I was looking for some way to kill them, or scare them away." He shook his head. "No! No! No! You don't want to do that!" "Look, they're a huge nuisance, always making noise and calling out their warnings and such. I want to get rid of them!" The old man gave me a weird look. "Have you seen anything unusual, Mr. Foster?" and it seemed as if his eyes were peering into my soul. I backed away. "No!" I back away from him until I was up against the door. Then I opened the door and slipped outside, not taking my eyes from him. I walked to my truck and, as I opened the door, I looked back at the store and saw all three brothers staring through the front window at me. I started the truck, headed for the antique shop and waited for Cyn to finish her shopping. She was in there a long time. 11 Cyn was silent on the drive home and I wasn't inclined to talk about my experience at the book store. The sky was grey and a wind was pushing the flat-bottomed clouds from south to north. The trees swayed gently. I turned the pick-up onto the dirt drive and slowed. It still bucked a little as the tires hit dips and bumps in the road. I noticed the front of the truck was a little low on the driver side, so I coasted to a stop. "What's wrong?" asked Cyn. "Flat tire, I think," I replied curtly and got out of the truck. On seeing that my suspicion was correct I gave the tire a good kick. Cyn opened her door. "Don't bother," I told her. "I'll put the spare on." I went looking for the spare, but couldn't find it. "Cyn? Where's the spare tire?" "How would I know? You always take the truck in for service." I swore quietly. There was no reason for the spare to be missing. Had she taken it into the house for some reason? She must have, I thought. And now she was lying about it! I ground my teeth and held back my temper. "I'm walking to the house to get the tire, if it's there," I said with a scowl. "I'll call a tow truck if I can't find the spare." She opened her door. "I'll come with you." "Don't bother." She gave me a surprised look, but closed the door. She stared at me for a few seconds and then opened up a book she had brought with her. I turned and began marching toward our house. I tried walking on the grassy shoulder, but I had to keep ducking under tree branches. So I walked on the dirt road, and it wasn't long before my feet and knees were sore from the uneven surface. The walk seemed to be taking a long time, much longer than it should have. I wished I were walking at night; at least the croaking of the frogs would be some kind of companionship. Then I shivered at the thought of wanting those damned frogs around. A cool breeze hit me and I suddenly heard the truck approaching along the road behind me. I turned, cursing Cyn for being so stupid as to drive along this bumpy road with a flat tire. The forest was thick and the path turned a few metres behind me, so I couldn't see the truck. I could hear it snapping branches and I wondered how fast Cyn was driving. Then it whipped around the corner and rocketed toward me. I could see a man at the wheel, and he and Cyn were laughing recklessly. I dove out of the way, splashing into a muddy puddle beside the road. Pushing myself free, I stepped back onto the road only to see my pick-up skid around the next bend and disappear. I was sure Cyn and that stranger had looked right at me. So why hadn't they slowed down? For that matter, why hadn't they stopped to pick me up? Then, who the Hell was that guy and where did he come from? I stomped toward the house and several minutes later, with cool mud dripping down my skin inside my clothes, I rounded the last turn and saw that there was no pick-up truck parked in front of the house. Where the Hell had they gone? I had walked in on the only road or trail wide enough for the truck. I walked around the house, but there was no pick-up and no tread marks indicating the truck had circled the house. As I reached the front again I spied Cyn slowly driving the truck up the road. She parked it in front of the house and I grabbed her arm just as she stepped out of the cab. "All right, where the Hell is he?" I took a quick look in the bed. "Where's who, Bill?" "That guy that was driving my truck!" I grabbed her other arm. "Where is he? Did he sneak off through the woods? How long have you known him?" "I don't know what you're talking about, Bill! Why did you tell me the tire was flat?" I shook my head at the abrupt change in subject. Some frogs in the woods nearby, disturbed by our raised voices, began to croak. "I got tired of waiting. You were gone for two hours! I got out of the truck to stretch my legs and took a look at the tires. They were all fine. Then I looked for the spare and it was right there! What's wrong with you? Why are you so muddy? You've never been like this before!" I could see the concern in her face and hear the confusion in her voice. I rubbed the bridge of my nose as my head began to ache. "But...the tire was completely flat. You didn't change it?" She showed me the tire and the spare. How could I have been so confused? "Look Cyn, I'm sorry. I don't know what's got in to me." I looked at her helplessly. "You have a headache?" she asked. I nodded. She looked about. "The frogs are getting louder and the noise is probably bothering you. Let's go inside and relax a little, honey." She helped me up the stairs, across the porch and inside and onto a couch. She put the TV on and handed me the remote. Then she left and quickly returned with some tea and toast. She put the back of her hand to my cheek and forehead, tsked and then found a blanket to keep me warm. "I'm worried about you, Bill. Maybe that tumble you took in the cellar hurt you more than we thought. If you're not better by tomorrow morning I'm taking you to see a doctor." I smiled at her. "I don't feel weak, Cyn, just confused. It feels like...like...like I'm a marionette - or maybe a rat and some mad piper is leading me around." She gave me a very worried look. "It's okay, Cyn. You've always taken good care of me." She sat beside me on the couch, leaning against me and then we spent the rest of the afternoon just watching TV. Shortly before dinner we had to turn up the volume as the frogs began their nightly serenade early. 12 Cyn was washing up in the kitchen and I was, against my wife's explicit orders, gathering the blanket up to put in the laundry room basket when something appeared at the limits of my peripheral vision. I turned to see the ghost of the native warrior pass through the wall of our house. He slowly surveyed the room. He paused when he saw me, and his eyes grew big. Then he shook his head and continued his search. I was speechless. This was no dream! His chest and arms were naked and he wore pants of soft leather with a braided cloth hanging down over his groin. Soft, short leather moccasins covered his feet. He had no weapons and his left shoulder was tattooed in an odd spiral design. His shoulders slumped, as if in frustration at not finding his prey. Then he turned to face me. His mouth opened and closed, and it took me a few seconds to realize he was trying to speak to me. Goose bumps rose on my arms. The ghost seemed to grow frantic when it became clear I did not understand him. He pointed into the sky several times, with great urgency. In response, I shrugged and lifted my hands in the universal sign of helplessness. He realized that his message was lost on me, so he closed his eyes as his face went slack. He shook his head three times and then turned about and passed back through the solid stone wall. I felt a chill run up my spine. There was no trace of him outside when I went to the window. I debated telling Cyn what I'd just seen. Would she think I was getting worse? Was I getting worse? Was I going crazy? The sound of the frogs outside was almost deafening as I stood by the window. Seeing my wife's reflection in the window, I turned to her and noticed her face was pale. "Bill, I've just seen that ghost again." "Me, too. Well, I saw the warrior again. He seemed to be searching for something and when he couldn't find it...he tried to tell me something." Cyn hugged herself tightly. "She was so sad. Something terrible must have happened to her. After a few seconds, she realized I was there and tried to warn me about something." "Have you any idea what she was trying to tell you? I couldn't make heads or tails out of what my ghost was doing." Cyn gave me a sad look. "I think she was trying to warn me about you." "Oh." We stared at each other from opposite sides of the room. "She's just a ghost, Bill. She probably doesn't even know what she's talk..." Cyn stopped, put her hand to her mouth and started giggling. It was infectious and I started giggling, as well. Once we calmed down again I asked, "So what are we going to do, Cyn?" "You hear stories about ghosts and people desperate to get rid of them, but they haven't hurt us." I frowned. "That wasn't a picnic in the cellar." "I don't think that was my ghost, Bill. It just doesn't seem like her." "You do realize how crazy that sounds, don't you?" She nodded. "But, I have to agree. My ghost doesn't seem to want to hurt us either. I think he may have been trying to warn me about something." "Should we leave? Maybe go into town and find a motel, or a bed and breakfast?" Cyn wasn't the type to give up on something. I decided to follow her lead, although some instinct deep inside of me was screaming at me to run. "This is our house, Cyn. We'll figure this out in the morning. Maybe that historian will have some ideas." She cocked her head. "The frogs are going quiet. Maybe we can both get a decent sleep tonight." "Okay. I'll meet you upstairs, honey." She gave me a grin and then went up the stairs. I put away the blanket and followed her. Once we were both in bed, we kissed and then rolled over to our respective sides. Sleep came quickly. 13 I had nightmares. At first, I dreamed of frogs. They were everywhere and they croaked at me accusingly. I ran and tried to escape them but they really were everywhere; their slimy, green bodies, bulging eyes and enormous mouths were all I could see wherever I looked. They grew in numbers until they were piling atop one another. The piles grew higher and higher until there were veritable mountains of frogs surrounding me as far as I could see. I screamed out for help and a cold wind blew upon me from above. The wind became a blast and it was followed by another blast and then another, and the frogs rolled away in successive rings until they were lost from sight. Strangely, I was far more frightened now. I was now lying in bed, with Cyn sleeping beside me. An unheard voice whispered to me that the frogs would come back. It was Cyn's fault that the frogs would be back. She couldn't be trusted, it said. Everything was her fault. She had tried to run me down in the pick-up, and locked me in the cellar. My memories were otherwise, but the voice corrected my memories until it was crystal clear that Cyn was the cause of every problem. The voice whispered that she had betrayed me and that she had to be taught a lesson. Her very name was a homophone for all of mankind's troubles. And hadn't a woman unleashed all the ills upon the world? I thought, no, this isn't right. But I didn't think it very forcefully. The voice soothed me, and convinced me that right was wrong and wrong was right. I felt my limbs stir. That was okay, as the voice had told me to relax. My arms pushed me to a sitting position and my legs swung to the edge of the bed and then off. The bed sheet slipped away from me. I could feel the pressure of a hundred wiggling fingers touching me, urging my muscles to move, and yet I relaxed because the voice had told me everything was fine. I stood up, swaying. The air in the bedroom was very cold. My legs took a tentative couple of steps and I almost fell. Then a few more steps and my body had worked out how to balance itself. I turned to the bed and saw Cyn lying under the sheet. She shivered and pulled the sheet up to her neck without waking. My legs took me around to her side of the bed and I noticed that my body was coordinating its movements much better than a few seconds earlier. I pulled the sheet back. Cyn shivered again, her flimsy negligee offering her no protection from the cold air. I put my arms under her and lifted her off the bed. Her head nodded to my chest. The voice commanded me to be gentle with her, as if it was afraid of waking her. Then my legs moved again, taking me across the cold wood floor, out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The darkness meant nothing to my body; I didn't bump into a single piece of furniture. I wondered where my body was taking us as the door opened of its own accord and a wave of warm air washed across us. Cyn stirred and I could hear the voice saying, "Wait. Wait." Then she quietened and I began walking again. Upon reaching the ground my body turned and I somehow knew that I was headed for the standing stones. There was a curtain of light in the sky, not unlike the aurora borealis except that it was flowing in waves that started at a great height and came towards the ground. As we drew closer to the trees I lost sight of the purples and greens in the night sky. There was an unnatural glow upon everything, though. "Be calm," the voice said. I walked through the silent trees, while branches seemed to bend back out of my way. I realized it wasn't for my benefit; it was to ensure nothing woke Cyn. My heart fluttered. "Be calm," the voice instructed, again. At last I reached the stones and my legs took me to the one in the middle of the clearing, the one that had fallen over long ago. I looked straight up and saw how the curtain of light now looked like a vortex or whirlwind, and the clearing was at the bottom of this phenomenon. Cyn stirred in my arms. I looked down in time to see her eyelids flutter open. "What?" she asked, sleepily. "Do it! Do it now!" screamed the voice in my head. I set Cyn down on the stone and my hands went to her throat and began squeezing. "Bill?" she rasped in surprise. She grabbed my arms and then tried to pry my fingers from her throat. I tightened my grip, using strength I didn't know I possessed. I pushed her back so she lay on the rock. A blast of cold wind fell upon us. Cyn was making strange noises as she struggled to prevent me from strangling her. There was another blast of icy wind from above, and then another. Two figures fell and landed very roughly in the grass nearby. I turned my head to see a native man and woman, both dressed in hides and skins. The man looked an awful lot like the ghost I'd seen. The woman was younger than he was and quite pretty. They seemed stunned by the fall. My fingers had loosened their grip upon Cyn's throat as I had turned. She was able to take in a deep breath of air and then I tightened my grip again. 14 And these cops thought I was a murderer! Couldn't they see that it wasn't my fault? I reached out for the cup of water, sat back and took a long drink. Two of the Mounties stared at me intently, but with some degree of sympathy. The rest looked bored, obviously giving up the investigation as they thought they had their man. The psychologist was eager for me to continue. Him, I hated. "Remember our agreement," I reminded them. "When I'm done telling this story, you bring me to Cyn." The bald psychologist leaned forward and opened his mouth, but it was one of the R.C.M.P. officers who spoke up. "That's exactly what's going to happen, Mr. Foster." Baldy glared at him. I took a deep breath. 15 "Kill her! Kill her now!" screamed the voice. "I'm so close!" Cyn's tear-filled, half-closed eyes left my face for a second and she looked over my shoulder. Her eyes grew round for a few seconds and then returned to my face, full of compassion. "Bill..." she whispered, "I...for...give...you." There was another blast of cold air that buffeted me and sent Cyn's hair swirling. My fingers suddenly hurt and I relaxed them. To my surprise, Cyn pulled my hands away from her throat easily. I looked back to the native couple who were slowly regaining their senses. Cyn grabbed my cheeks. "I forgive you, Bill!" I pulled her to me and hugged her tightly. "I couldn't stop myself! I don't know what happened, Cyn! I didn't want to hurt you!" She broke the hug. "Look up!" I twisted and looked. There was an almost indescribable horror hanging over the clearing directly above us. The coloured lights were gone, replaced with a writhing mass of enormous worms and slime and filth. The thing nearly filled the sky and yet despite its immensity it just hung there, as if gravity were just another law of nature that it dared to defy. It pulsed and glowed and I could feel waves of psychic pressure striking against my brain, near the back of my skull, boring into my nightmares and my soul. Cthasguahafgh There was nothing in nature that could have given rise to such a being, and it was a being and not some simple brutish creature. It was sentient, and it was malevolent. It hungered and craved, but not for blood or flesh. It lusted after terror and despair and hopelessness. Anger and hatred were its appetizers. And it just hung there above us. I felt that I was so small and puny before this Lovecraftian monstrosity. There was no reason why it should have stopped its attack when we were obviously so helpless before it. I turned back to my wife and our eyes met. "Cyn, run for your life! I'll stay here and distract it somehow." "No! I'm not leaving you! I don't care if it kills us both, just so long as we're together!" There was a wave of pressure that washed over us. We looked up and I noticed the creature seemed to have risen a small distance, but I could feel the voice whispering and rattling in the back of my skull. I turned to the natives. They were hugging each other desperately. The warrior was muttering something and the woman was nodding her head. Both were crying. The voice cried out, "Kill her! Kill her! You cannot trust her!" Cyn put her hands on my cheeks and turned my face to her. "I heard it, too. It feeds on negative emotions. We have to..." She pulled me forward and we kissed. That single kiss was warm, soft and stirring, and it was followed by a rapid series of desperate kisses across my mouth, cheeks and chin. We separated a short distance and stared at each other for a few seconds. I didn't ask the question, but she nodded her answer. I climbed up on to the stone, between her legs. We kissed again. Her hands went to my shoulders and pulled me down onto her. I ran my fingers through her hair and turned my head this way and that, as we kissed and kissed again. One of her hands slipped down across my chest, over my abdomen and then to my pajama pants. She sought me out and then gently gave me a suggestive squeeze that started my blood flowing. I leaned over to my right and covered one of her breasts with my left hand. The fabric of her negligee was thin and I could feel the nipple hardening underneath. But that wasn't enough. My fingers danced to the centre of her chest where a gap in her pajamas was kept closed by a single button. I wrapped my fingers around the hole and jerked. Her negligee tore down the middle and opened to reveal her breasts. I lifted my face from hers to look down at her chest rising and falling with each breath. I could also see the two natives who were watching us curiously. Cyn's own fingers tried to duplicate my feat, but couldn't tear the fabric of my pajamas. As I kissed the dip in her throat, she managed to undo my buttons and slip her hand inside. Kissing her slowly and deliberately, I made my way down until I was directly between her breasts. Cyn teased my penis by rolling the foreskin back and forth. I was hardening quickly, despite the deadly threat hovering over us. I poised my mouth over one of her breasts and looked up at her face. She was staring straight up. My tongue flickered out and touched her nipple. She looked down at me. "No time for that, love." I took my cue and rolled directly on top of her. She bent her knees and opened her legs while I pulled my erection out through the open flap. "Oh, quickly! Just make love to me!" She looked up, above us, and then clamped her eyes shut. I plunged in. She was wet and tight, as always. I pushed half way in and then withdrew a little, feeling myself hardening a little more. I plunged in again and she bit her lip. There was a pressure inside my skull and it felt as if my soul were being stretched out through my spine. I stopped and started to turn my head upwards. Cyn opened her eyes and grabbed my shoulders. "Don't stop! Please don't stop! Keep going! I love you so much!" Her eyes closed again and I concentrated on how much I loved her and how good I wanted to make her feel. I plunged in and she gasped. I pulled out and plunged in again, and again. She gasped each time, and each time it was a little louder than before. I could hear the natives saying something, but it wasn't important. All that mattered was Cyn and the sweet, intoxicating noises that came with each breath as we made love. I lowered myself onto her and kissed her mouth, while undulating my hips faster and faster. She tried to cry out, but every gasp and moan was muffled by my lips. I kissed her hard and she wrapped her arms around my neck and shoulders and clung to me tightly, almost painfully so. She was trying to match my thrusts and I could feel pressure building, not in my skull but in my balls. There was that familiar tingling and almost-heaviness, and then the rush as my seed pumped through me. Cyn broke the kiss as she threw her head back and drew in a great breath. Her back arched and my hands went down to her hips to hold me inside of her, as deep as I could go. I grunted three times as she let out a long, sweet moan of pleasure. I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath and I took a number of deep, relaxing gasps. Cyn raised her head to me and I bent forward so we were forehead to forehead. "It doesn't matter if it kills me now," I whispered. "The monster!" she shouted. She pulled me close and looked over my shoulder. "It's gone!" I leaned to one side and looked into the night sky. Sure enough, the entity had disappeared as if it had never been. Cyn and I hugged each other and wept. After several minutes, I remembered the native couple. We sat up and Cyn gasped as we saw the two were dead. They lay in each other's arms and they looked to be sleeping, but they were completely still and somehow we just knew that the being had lashed out and struck them down before it fled. We stayed there for perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, wondering who this couple had been and what they'd been through. Cyn figured they were probably the first lovers from the legend. The man and woman that had come to imprison or slay this evil creature, that they had thought was some kind of spirit. It had worked its influence upon them and most likely the warrior had slain his wife. Then the beast had come and plucked them up. What was death to a monstrous being from beyond space and time, and alive for strange aeons? Maybe when it was away from Earth it spent its time practising its torments upon these two poor souls. 16 "And then we went home and called the local R.C.M.P. detachment." Recounting the story made me feel cocky and I wanted to upset that psychologist. "And that's my story...and I'm sticking to it," I finished with a smug smile. The psychologist smirked. "Well, I think we have more than enough evidence now for a conviction gentleman." Three of the cops nodded in agreement, and one actually yawned. "We're not arresting him," stated an older Mountie, who had just walked into the interrogation room. "I'm glad that one of you is reasonable!" I said. "Please, Mr. Foster. May I remind you that your story is completely preposterous? Except for three little facts, I think the most likely explanation is that you and your wife were on drugs or drunk and murdered two innocent Indians who wandered onto your land." He leaned forward. "And saying that smart-ass line from that Tragically Hip song isn't the smartest thing you could have done." "And, pray tell, what three little facts are those?" demanded the psychologist, rising angrily to his feet. The chief Mountie ticked off a finger. "First, there was no sign of any illegal drugs on the property or on their persons, and blood tests that we took several hours ago show nothing unusual." He ticked off a second finger. "Second, we called in the Chief from the local reserve to identify the bodies. He brought a couple of people with him, one of whom is an expert anthropologist who happened to be recording the native languages of the area. This expert was able to identify the man and woman as coming from a completely different tribe, one that inhabited this region over a thousand years ago. Also, the clothing and gear that the two wore date from that period as well." He ticked off another finger. "Third, according to the coroner those two Indians died of natural causes, although he can't figure out how they died of natural causes. He finished the autopsies and told me the results a few minutes ago. Do you have any idea how this guy and his wife could kill another couple without leaving any marks and do it fast enough that both the bodies would still be warm when we arrived?" The psychologist's mouth dropped. "You're going to let them go? You believe that ridiculous tale about some monster out of a pulp magazine?" "Constable," said the chief Mountie, "escort this man to his wife." I was led out while the two men argued. A minute later Cyn was in my arms, and two minutes after that we were in the back of a car being driven home by the R.C.M.P. "So, Cyn? How did you know what to say?" "What do you mean, honey?" I noticed the Mountie peeking in his rear view mirror as we talked. "Well, that thing had me completely under its control and it was forcing me to kill you, but you said the exact thing you needed to say to break the spell and free me. How did you know?" Cyn pursed her lips and looked away. "I didn't know. I thought I was going to die, Bill. I looked up and saw that demon, or whatever it was, and I realized all the crazy things you'd been doing for the last couple of days weren't your fault. I just didn't want you to think that I hated you." I turned her about and hugged her tightly. * Thank you for reading this story. Remember that this is a contest entry so please vote! I appreciate feedback and comments.