3 comments/ 30484 views/ 0 favorites Soulless By: Soulless I quickly turned towards the couple on the divan and stammered. "I don't know... I don't feel I should..." "Just take a look, boy. Pretty as the summer's day, they are." Smiled Martha and then repeated more forcefully, smile turning into a grimace. "Look at them!" I swallowed hard and turned around. My heart skipped a beat and I felt my world swaying this way and that, for a moment worrying that I would pass out from shock. I knew the women who were coming towards me! Jeannie and Sheila and Stacey. They were my ex-girlfriends, all of them broken-hearted by my youthful irresponsibility and foolish arrogance. I blinked and then blinked again. A heavy sigh of relief escaped me when I realized that those were not the girls I had known in college. They resembled them a lot, but they were not the ones I first thought they were. The girl who looked like Sheila had the same black hair, identical green eyes, but her nose was much smaller and her lips fuller, although she easily could have passed for Sheila's sister. The real Sheila was cute; this one was gorgeous. Stacey's dead ringer turned out to be much taller and less muscular with complexion so beautiful, the real Stacey would have killed to have. Then there was a girl who looked like Jeannie. Out of all three, she looked most like the girl I thought she was at first. Her hair was a little more golden, her eyes slightly more slanted and a paler shade of hazel, face lacking freckles and the haughty smile that was so typical of Jeannie. I made a mental note to ask my friend John what was in the weed that he had given me before I came to visit my grandfather. I smoked a full joint the night before and it couldn't have been just simple marijuana, for even a day later I was obviously hallucinating slightly. I saw old people and ex-lovers where there were none. I kept spooking myself like a little kid, and no doubt it showed on my face to the great amusement of the bystanders. All three women were very pretty and gracious in their movements. They could have easily been homecoming queens in high school and no modeling agency would have turned them away. They were absolutely stunning. I could not understand what the girls like that were doing in this crappy shack, even if it looked like a million bucks on the inside. I grinned wearily at all three, feeling absolutely foolish, knowing that all eyes in the room were on me. Even the piano player was probably staring at my expression of idiocy. My gaze, however, kept returning to the girl who looked like Jeannie. The last girl I had dated in college, she was still fresh in my mind, and I may add my heart as well, although I would be damned if I ever let her know it. After we broke up on pretences of me not being ready for a serious relationship I kept thinking about her constantly for months, and even now, a few years later my mind wondered to those early days when I was happy but too insecure to make the happiness last. "Well?" asked Dick and I didn't dare look back at him. I could feel my face flushing, the tingling in my skin betrayed the redness that I couldn't see, but others would have. I noticed the girls' eyes stealing a look behind me and suddenly two of them turned around and still smiling sweetly left the room through yet another door I hadn't noticed before. The Jeannie look alike took a step closer and extended her gloved hand to me. I took it, feeling completely humiliated and without a glance backwards followed her up the stairs, my feet just as heavy as they were when I was trailing the old man to the porch. For once, there was no comment from Dick to be heard, as I honestly don't know if I would have had enough courage to continue trailing the pretty girl. In contrast to the ground floor, the hall at the top of the stairs was narrow and dark, much more what I would have thought the house looked like when standing outside, trying to digest the first horrifying impression of it. A smell of staleness filled the corridor. We walked all the way to the last door in a row of quite a few, my eyes never leaving the girl's long, soft hair worn loose, reaching almost to her mid back. As she grabbed the knob she turned around and looked at me seductively, her brows shooting up in one quick gesture as if we were about to do something mischievous. When she opened the door, I was slightly disappointed to find the room held no riches that were evident in the parlor downstairs. Spartanly decorated space with white washed walls and bare, unpolished wooden floor would be exactly what a person might have pictured of a room where sex was being sold by an hour. An old, brass bed stood in the middle, taking up most of the space, with a tall table that held ceramic wash pan, a jug, and a mirror all squeezed into the corner behind the door. "It's not much, I'm afraid." Said the girl and I waved my hand dismissively. I didn't care. I wasn't there to admire the furnishings. "But then," she continued, "I'm sure you're not here to admire the furnishings." I froze. I wasn't even sure whether my thought preceded her words or if it was the other way around and my frenzied and fatigued mind managed to mix it all up. "What's your name?" I asked, trying to push the uncertainty out of my mind. But it was not to be. "Oh, I'll be anything you want me to be." She giggled and plopped on the bed, spreading her legs wide and stretching the heavy material of her skirts, the soles of the boots still on the floor. She pressed the palms of her hands far behind her body and leaned on them, her hair playfully spilling over her shoulders, brushing against the pure white bed cover. Her eyes narrowed and a smug grin lingered on her pretty face. "Gwendolyn, Adrienne, Rosy, Courtney, Hilda, Fatima, Natasha, Moyzza, Maya, Egwene, Tamara, Morgase... Anything your heart desires, baby." Some of the names I didn't even recognize. The longer I was in her presence, the more unwaveringly her deep hazel eyes held my gaze, the more I desired her, despite the growing sense of dread, which I had no idea where it was coming from. "No, your name. I need you to tell me your name." I almost begged and sat on the bed next to her. I wanted to touch her hair and brush it against my cheek. I simply knew it was the softest thing that would have ever touched my skin. She continued staring at me, half wonderingly, half playfully. "Jeannie." She said suddenly and sat up, bringing her legs together and carefully crossing hand over hand in her lap. She smiled weakly and the seductiveness seemed to have completely evaporated from her face. She appeared very shy at that moment, almost embarrassed, exactly like I remember my true Jeannie had been when I first met her. "I'm afraid it's not as glamorous or mysterious as Amalisa, but..." My fingers softly pressed against her lips, extinguishing the sound of her husky voice. "Don't." Was all I could say. My heart sped up at the feel of her skin under my touch, even softer than I thought it would have been. The vein in my neck was pulsating with the rush of blood, which made me lightheaded and I became oblivious to everything but the beautiful woman in front of me. Why had I ignored the name coincidence, I couldn't say now. at the time though, the significance seemed unimportant, or so my mind was telling me. My fingers traced from her mouth to the chin and I gently lifted her face towards mine, pressing my lips against hers, pausing in a moment, both of us perfectly still. I let go of her chin, burying my hand in her hair, and the kiss became passionate. Her lips parted under my tongue, I could again taste the sweetness of honey, scent that was still lingering in my nose from the drink I had taken minutes ago in the downstairs parlor. I was kissing her hard, my tongue exploring her mouth, caressing her own tongue, brushing against her teeth. My hand in her hair held her face against mine as if I was afraid she might jerk away from me and I'd lose the sweetness forever. She sucked onto my lower lip and opened her eyes, winking at me and in a moment of playfulness we both giggled, finally separating from the kiss. "We can do anything you want, Thomas." She said and my heart skipped a beat at the words every young man yearns to hear. The feeling of exhilaration was replaced by a dread. "How'd you know my name?" I asked suspiciously. She wasn't exactly caught off guard, but she did weigh her answer before she let it out. "Dick told me." I was not satisfied. "When?" If I wasn't certain of anything else, I knew that Dick hadn't had a second alone with her or the other girls. At least on this particular day. The pretty face frowned and she pulled away from me. Absentmindedly, she knocked the heel of her boot against the wooden floor, refusing to respond. "When, Jeannie? When did he tell you that?" Red flags were popping up all over the place. Old people who turned out to be young or at least not so old. Three women, all near replicas of my lovers from long ago. Animals, of which I could not tell if there were two or only one and the first time around I had seen it wrong. Marijuana alone could not have been blamed for that, not even the most potent kind. The girl still didn't answer. Her face went blank and she sat next to me with her head bowed as if in shame. I was uncertain what to do next. I wanted to touch her again. I yearned to be touched by her. "I'm sorry." I said finally, breaking the silence, of which I had just become acutely aware. The minute Jeannie closed the door to the room, all sound was drowned and the quiet in the room heavily enveloped my entire being. No hushed conversation or music was heard from downstairs. For the house this poorly constructed it was quite unusual. I looked out of the small and dirty window next to the bed and realized that the room was facing the front of the house. I could see my car, a battered old dodge sitting in what was supposed to be a driveway, but was really just a worn out dirt path. Next to it was a steel water pump, a bucket hanging on it, rhythmically banging against its stem in the gentle breeze. I couldn't hear the sound of the steel clashing together. "I'm very tired and I don't feel like myself. I'm sorry, really." I repeated and Jeannie lifted her head, her face clear and even younger looking than it had been a minute ago. "I know, Dick told me. That you were tired, that is." She emphasized the old man's name. "And don't ask me when, now!" Followed a warning. "He just did." I truly felt the fatigue spreading through my body and I wasn't even sure that I could do anything with Jeannie or any other breathtakingly beautiful woman. My eyelids droopy and limbs feeling heavy like led, all I wanted to do was lay down, close my eyes, and drift into what I hoped would have been a dreamless sleep. Jeannie twisted her upper body, leaving me with a view of her small back, covered with a waterfall of golden hair. One of her arms came over and around her head, brushing the hair to one side. "Help me with this." She said and pointed to the small buttons with the other hand. With trembling fingers, I carefully undid her dress from top to bottom, feeling the first stirring of my cock. I wanted her so much! I expected to find a corset or a brassiere, such as had been worn by women in the time that matched the dress she wore. To my great surprise, she pulled the dress over her shoulders and there was nothing but bare skin. No bra or any other kind of restrain that women would normally wear. She pushed the dress past her waist and over her hips, again revealing nothing but soft skin, firm and olive complexioned. She was truly a beautiful woman. Everything on her seemed to be perfection. Hair, skin, teeth, figure and face. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I yearned to make love to her, not just to fuck her as expected with a whore. Or is it? I didn't really know, I hadn't had much experience in that particular department. Like I said before, where sex was concerned, I had always been lucky enough to find a pussy or at least a willing pair of hands to satisfy my desires. Jeannie let the dress fall to her ankles, stepped out of it gracefully and turned around. My breathing became heavy at the sight of her entire body. She was exactly as I would have described my ideal woman to be. Narrow waist, wide hips but not too much so; long thin legs, muscular, just like her arms. Her breasts were full and heavy, almost too big for her slim frame, but I could see that they were natural. Soft muff between her legs matched the color of her hair. It was carefully trimmed into a small triangle, without any sign of stubble. She stood in front of me and started into my eyes unwaveringly. She pulled the long gloves off one by one, carefully as if they were made of paper. One of the gloves dropped on the floor where it landed in a small pile. She straightened the other one out and wrapped its ends around each of her hands. "Ever been blindfolded?" she asked and a small voice inside my head told me not to let her do what she was attempting to. "Not really," I gasped, by now my hard cock aching against the tightness of my jeans. I parted my legs just like she had done before when still wearing a dress and she stepped in between them, leaning her upper body towards my face, pressing one of her breasts on my lips. I kissed the firmness of it, encircling my tongue around the nipple and finally sucking on it. Jeannie moaned, closed her eyes and let her head fall back. I felt hot and horny, ready for anything, at the same time willing to let her do all she wanted to. With her nipple still between my lips she brought her head back up and carefully wrapped the long glove around my head, covering my eyes, tying it firmly on the back. The material felt thick against my skin and I was unable to see anything. Complete darkness enveloped me, but I didn't care. I had seen what I needed to see already, now I wanted to feel it. With my sight disabled, I was certain my other senses would intensify. Jeannie moved her body away from me and took my face into her hands. I jumped a little when I felt something soft and warm touch my lips, until I realized that she had just pressed a very soft kiss on them. Her tongue gently probed between my lips, entering my mouth and caressing my own tongue, brushing against my teeth, all the while every touch of it felt like a low charged electric current surging through my body. She broke the kiss and I felt her hands against my shoulders, pushing me away from her, onto the bed. I felt her unbuttoning my shirt, quickly and expertly, much more so than my attempt to undo her dress minutes before. She pushed the shirt half-way down my torso, trapping my arms with it, which made me not only blind, but also incapable of reaching out and touching her. She pulled my boots off one by one, and with unmistakable thud of the heel against the wood they clonked somewhere close to the bed. I could feel her tugging at my jeans, freeing the stud button of its hole, undoing the zipper, slowly running the small holder down its silver teeth and a moment later, my cock was out in the open, relieved of its restrains, eager for more attention. She pulled my jeans and boxer shorts off my ass in one determined motion, scrunching them down me legs and over my ankles, freeing me completely. I felt her kneel between my legs and wrap her arms over my thighs. Soft kisses that she planted on my stomach, hips and thighs had the effect of electricity just as her tongue had in my mouth moments ago. My cock was throbbing and probably waving in her face, begging to be awarded a kiss by her warm lips, too. She took her time though. She licked, kissed and sucked on my skin everywhere, yet leaving my cock unattended. I was ready to blow right then, she had me right where she wanted me and she knew it. She made me feel like an inadequate youngster. I had never desired a woman so much in my entire life prior or since. I was afraid I would ruin everything by cumming too soon; I wanted her to see what I could do. I wanted to impress her. At the same time, I wanted to give myself to her completely, let her do whatever that little heart desired. If she wanted to teach me, I'd learn. If she wanted to enjoy me, I'd perform. I believe that somewhere in the depths of my mind, my true Jeannie and Jeannie the whore blended together, creating a perfect creature. I could feel something wet and cool touch the head of my cock. Soft lips enveloped it and pushed down on it, from the feeling that I had I realized she must have buried my entire cock deep inside her mouth. I could feel it hitting the back of her throat. I wanted to reach out and touch her hair, play with it, comb it with my fingers, but the shirt was restraining my movements and all I could do was lay on the bed, gently push my pelvis against her face and moan. It was a very odd feeling to be at complete mercy of a stranger. I had never been so passive in a sex act. The feeling was arousing, but freaky. I felt completely vulnerable; she could have done many bad things to me before I had the time to free myself of the makeshift restrains. Trying not to spoil the feeling of absolute ecstasy I relaxed and simply let her do her little magic on me. It was a very good magic, I had to admit. She was obviously an expert in blowjobs. My cock was deep inside her mouth with one of her hands firmly squeezing at the root of it, the other one must have reached for her own hair, as I suddenly felt a soft tickle over my nipples, which then traced the sensation down to my stomach and around the belly button, returning up the my neck and tickling against my throat. It mind blowing! Despite more enjoyment than ever before, I wanted her to stop and let me work on her for a while. I wanted to kiss her pussy, which I was sure was just as sweet and soft as her lips had been. I wanted to taste her tarty juices, push my finger inside her soft warmth and then follow it with my cock. I wanted to make love to her and then fuck her senseless. I yearned to make her feel half as good as she was making me feel at that very moment. Her mouth was tight on my cock now, the squeeze of the fingers around its root became more intense, I could feel her tongue brushing up and down, encircling its head, even though the entire thing was buried deep inside her. Fuck, she is good! I thought and as if in response, she moaned, sending a wave of butterflies through my body from the neck all the way down to my toes. I could feel my balls tingle and shrink. My cock throbbed in sign of an oncoming orgasm. "Oh, Jeannie..." I gasped, wanting desperately to push the blindfold off and see her take it all in. All of it to the last drop. Her entire mouth seemed to have tightened around my cock, not just her lips. It was a freaky feeling that I had never experienced before. I felt the cum surge through my cock and explode inside her mouth. It was like a hot liquid that originated in my balls and I was able to feel its entire course, yelping in surprise. I had never had an orgasm this strong. As I was erupting inside her mouth, she seemed to have helped by sucking it powerfully and firmly. I was but a hair away from hurting, but she managed to avoid that. Whatever she was doing, I had never had it done like that before and it felt good! I kept cumming and cumming, my cock throbbed five or six times, and continued throbbing more and more. I could feel an oncoming headache as my temples began vibrating in a dull pain. I knew I should have been done cumming by then, but my cock kept on. My juices kept pouring out into her mouth and she continued sucking. The longer the orgasm, the stronger my thrusts against her face. I couldn't seem to stop. My balls must have been the size of peanuts by now, still the sensation of ecstasy continued and I tried to enjoy it as much and as long as I could. I felt her hand leave the root of my cock and in synchronicity with the other one reach over my torso, her fingers pinching my nipples hard, making me jerk, unable to sit up as her head was still buried deep in my lap. Soulless Suddenly I had a sensation like I could feel the warmth of my blood surging through my veins. I felt as if there were tiny streaks of heat inside my arms and legs, torso and head. It was like she was sucking the life out of me. The heat slowly oozed out of my head, through my neck, out of my arms into torso, from my toes up the legs and it all centered in my cock, which was still throbbing and erupting with the powerful orgasm. The feeling of exhilaration became discomfort and just as I was about to forcefully sit up and make her stop, lightheadedness overwhelmed me, my dark world swayed then swirled and I lost myself in a wonderful sensation of rapture, aware of nothing and everything. My stomach turned with nausea. I must have lost consciousness after that, as the next thing I remember was Jeannie leaning over me completely dressed, her face full of concern, yet flirty. I realized I was lying on the bed; my legs were not dangling off it any longer. I was covered with a white sheet up to my neck, Jeannie's long and delicate fingers caressed my cheek. I turned my head to look out of the window and a brutal pain in side my temples made me cringe and shut my eyes. "What happened?" I asked, unable to look at anything, even Jeannie, no matter how much I wanted to. "I think the fatigue that Dick was talking about finally got the better of you." She said in a low, raspy voice, her fingers never leaving my face. "You cummed and then passed out." "Aw..." I whined like a kid. I felt embarrassed, exactly as I feared I would feel when she first took her clothes off and knelt between my legs. "Ssshhh..." she said soothingly. "It's okay, I understand." "I'm so sorry." I said, not quite knowing what I was apologizing for. "No, no..." her fingers traveled from my cheeks to the temples and softly pressed against them. At first this seemed to have intensified the pain, only to extinguish it a moment later. I opened my eyes, looked at Jeannie and carefully turned my head towards the window, noticing that it was getting dark. There was no pain. Yet, there was a lot of fear in my heart. "What did you just do?" I asked incredulously, pulling myself up. "Aaa..." she smiled and winked. "An old Chinese trick, my dear. Better now?" I rubbed my forehead, bowed my head, but the pain had not returned. "Yes, I think it is, thank you. "How long have I been out?" She stood up and clicked her tongue. "Long enough, Thomas. I think it's time for you to leave now. There will be others coming soon and I have to get ready." I looked at her with craving, wishing I could stay for a while longer, and she'd lie next to me. Then, I realized that it was my mind that was yearning for lovemaking, not my body. My cock limp and shriveled between my legs gave no indication that it was willing for another round. When I started climbing out of bed Jeannie left the room, allowing me a private moment. As I looked at the front of my body, I noticed it to be red and rash like. It didn't itch or burn, it just looked like I had fell asleep on the beach and gotten sun burnt. The headache seemed to have left me completely and I was glad about that. As I descended the stairs I was disappointed to realize that Jeannie was not waiting for me in the corridor or the parlor. I wanted to see her one more time. Not exactly to thank her; I suppose one doesn't do that with whores. But I did want to show her my appreciation. She had taken me to heights that I had never reached before and doubted I would be able to again. Dick was standing at the door, holding Martha's hand and smiling at her. Always a cheerful man, there seemed to be a certain glow in his face that I had never seen before, despite the never ending grin on his face. "We're all square now, I reckon?" he asked and Martha leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss on his wrinkled cheek. "Yes, my dear, we are." They shook hands and the whole scene puzzled me, but I didn't dwell upon it. "Take care now, you hear?" said Martha and turned towards me. "We'll be seeing you around, young Thomas." She said and I cringed. I couldn't complain over the attention and service I had received from one of her employees, but I would be back when hell freezes over, I thought. "Well," said Martha, a mischievous sparkle in her pretty dark eyes. "Every once in a while hell does freeze over, my dear." She said very quietly and I couldn't swear that I heard her correctly. I shrugged it all off. I wanted to go back to the farm, check on my grandfather and if it was okay with Dick hit the bed without having to do any more chores. I was pleasantly tired, just like a man is after a good roll in the hay, even though this had not quite turned out to be that. I awkwardly shook Martha's hand and almost ran to the car. The old, sickly dog was still lying on the porch, by the looks of it having barely moved. Dick drove us home that day, and with the gentle rocking of the car I fell into a sleepless dream. CHAPTER 2 In the days following I had often thought about Jeannie from the whorehouse. Questions, which I couldn't quite find the answers for began badgering my mind. I even considered talking to Dick about it, but changed my mind. He was not my friend, not even my peer. The gap between us was too wide and I still felt a bit embarrassed of having gone to a place of bad reputation with him, even though many of the questions related exactly to that. I had also begun noticing a change in Dick. He always liked a shot of whiskey in the evenings after the work was done and sometimes he might chase it with a beer. But lately he began drinking heavily. I would find him half drunk before noon, and in the late afternoons he'd be sitting on the bench under the oak tree passed out. He began stinking of whiskey and garlic. Never a good dresser, he always appeared in the kitchen wearing clean clothes in the mornings. Now, he would go wearing the same outfit for days. Working in a barn, the smell of dung would cling to him and fill the house where he happened to spend at least a minute or two. His once raven black hair began streaking with odd gray ones here and there. Each day he seemed to gray more and more, way too fast for any logical explanation. He didn't laugh as much as he used to. Sometimes, when I turned suddenly to face him, I would catch him staring at me or rather through me, deep in his own thoughts, making me feel very uncomfortable. In two weeks since our little escapade, he seemed to have aged at least ten years. The skin on his face turned yellowy and there were dark, almost purple bags sagging under his eyes, one of which seemed to water constantly now, and after a while he stopped being bothered with wiping it clean. I couldn't explain a sudden change in Dick, nor had I tried. Just like Dick's appearance, my grandfather's health seemed to have gone rapidly downhill on a daily basis. Most of the time he would be incoherent, feverish and vividly struggling to hold onto the last straw of life left in him. The doctor, who came to check on him once a week had told me that his days were numbered and I should prepare myself for the inevitable. I was saddened, but at the same time I wished he had been relieved of his pain already. He was suffering visibly and it hurt me to see him that way. The horror began about two weeks after my first visit to the whorehouse, although initially I didn't quite comprehend the lengths to which it would stretch itself. I had been feeling down and very tired for days. I was plagued with inexplicable headaches, which I attributed to the lack of sleep and worries for my grandfather. Having finished all the chores of the day, I bid a goodnight to Dick and turned in early. I tried to put myself to sleep by reading, but I needn't bothered. My mind couldn't focus on the written words, let alone the contents of the book and I believe I was out like a light within minutes. I can't say what it was exactly that woke me up, but as my mind slowly dragged itself into consciousness, and I opened my eyes, I sensed someone was in the room with me. I was lying on my stomach, hugging the pillow with my arms, my head turned to one side. I tried to lift my head off the pillow, but it seemed like it was made of led. I attempted to roll over, again no luck. Panic rose in my stomach and my heart began beating wildly. Adrenalin surged through my body, but I still failed to budge even for an inch. The only parts of my body that I was able to move were my eyes. I believed that someone in my room stood at the foot of the bed. My eyes rolled around to catch the intruder in the mirror above me, but it was too far up and I couldn't see anything. I averted the eyes away from the mirror, trying desperately to see the elusive figure. My heart froze as I sensed movement and for one second I believed I could actually see a silhouette in the far corner of the room. The balcony monster entered my mind and I closed my eyes, mentally chastising my imagination and cowardness. I still couldn't move any part of my body, not even a finger or a toe, but I began believing I was having one of the so-called lucid dreams where one knows one is dreaming. With my eyes still closed, suddenly my nose was assaulted by a hot and rancid stench so loud that were I able to move, I would have immediately put my hands over my face. I opened my eyes and heard my mind screaming in horror. My throat could not produce a sound; it seemed to remain just as paralyzed as the rest of my body. Gaunt face with huge, shiny eyes was staring at me; the lips were parted in a snarl and the teeth were huge and square, of grayish discoloration. Each eye looked three times as big as on a normal person, their color was a shade of green I had never seen before. The hair on the creature was spiky short and snow-white. The lips were thin, almost non-existent. Not blinking its eyes, the creature kept grinning at me, sending waves of chilly terror through my veins. Every once in a while it gasped a rotten breath at me, the stench so foul as I had never smelled in my entire life. Even skunk's spray could not come close to it. I felt my stomach heaving and I was afraid I would have to throw up, but unable to move, I would probably suffocate myself on my own vomit. I couldn't say anything, couldn't move and didn't dare close my eyes. I had to keep staring at the monster, had to know where it was at any given moment. The creature was kneeling next to my bed. At first I thought it was wearing a high collared black sweater, only to realize that it wasn't clothed, but its skin was charcoaled as if burnt to a crisp. "Thooo...maaaass..." The lips moved but more like on a puppet than on a real person. Their movements were stiff and awkward. They didn't quite close when speaking and the effect was all the more frightening. The voice was a familiar one, but I refused to acknowledge it. I could have sworn it sounded like Jeannie from the whorehouse, but then I was immobile, probably asleep, how the hell would I know whose voice was coming out of the creature's throat. A crazy thought of Dick and Jeannie playing a prank on me entered my mind. Dick could have easily slipped something in my evening coffee. Maybe they found this hideous puppet and are now trying to scare the living daylights out of me. The only thing I couldn't explain was the odor, but I wasn't trying to rationalize everything. My mind was spinning with fright and bewilderment. Then, the creature's face seemed to come to life, and how I wished it hadn't. The enormous eyes blinked. They blinked again and again, with each movement of the eyelid, they seemed to gain more focus and now I could feel them stabbing inside my head, making my temples throb; I had a feeling like my brain was swelling up and the skull was becoming too small for it. A horrible sensation of my eyes slowly popping out left me even more terrified than I had been already. I couldn't take my eyes off the creature, I didn't dare shut them. I was afraid that if I did, it would come even closer the next time I looked at it again. Suddenly the creature's face seemed to become more textural. It blushed and then darkened. The skin appeared paper thin, waving like there was a soft wind inside the mouth, blowing against it. For a horrified second I thought its face was full of maggots. I remembered seeing a rabbit in a plastic bag once. The bag was discarded in the alley by the thrash bins behind our house.I thought it was still alive and moving. When I opened the bag, I realized that the movement came from hundreds if not thousands of maggots that were feeding on its body. My stomach heaved again, but I didn't throw up. I couldn't have even if I wanted to. With exception of my eyes and eyelids, my entire body seemed to have been paralyzed. I could feel my heart beating wildly, and my stomach turning in disgust and fear, but that was it. "Thooo...maaassss..." I heard the voice again, still not certain if it was coming from the creature's mouth. Something poked out in between its teeth. It must have been a tongue, but it didn't look like it. Long and very thin, like an IV tube, it waved in the air and swooshed past my ears like a whip. The mouth opened wide and my eyes watered with the assault of the brutal stench. Suddenly the creature moved very fast. One second it was in front of me, the next I just saw a silhouette charge to the foot of the bed as if in a fast forward motion. It was too rapid for me to see it clearly. As much as I was afraid when it was squatting in front of me, now I wished it remained there. Knowing that it was somewhere in the room and I couldn't see it was absolutely petrifying. I tried to make a noise, squeeze a scream or at least a whisper out of my throat, but my vocal cords were just as paralyzed as the rest of my body. I felt the covers slowly being pulled off my body towards the foot of the bed and presumably towards where the creature was now standing. I have always hated the sensation of the covers being literally crept off my skin, leaving me bare and vulnerable. My brother Andrew used to do that to me when we were kids. He thought it was funny, I didn't. The sensation was similar to the one when one sits in a bathtub full of comfortably warm water and unplugs the stopper, remaining perfectly still, waiting for the water to drain. One has a feeling like your energy is running off one's body and into the drain, only to be replaced by dread and depression. The cover now completely off, I felt the chill in the room, despite the oppressing heat of the night. I could still smell the stench of the creature's breath, it seemed to have gotten imbedded in my nostrils. Stone cold fingers touched the back of my thighs, sharp fingernails scratching their way all the way up to my buttocks. I felt one of the long nailed fingers slip inside my crack and press against my colon. I closed my eyes and tried to pray. It had been so long since I had done it, I forgot how to do it. God, please help me... kept spinning round my brain over and over again. "Nooo...oot...gooo...hooood...Thooo...maaasss..." said the disembodied voice and this time I had to admit to myself it belonged to Jeannie. I presumed that's what she would have sounded like if she were stoned out of her mind trying to whisper in a scary voice. It was thick, the words slow and slurred, as if the creature or Jeannie or whoever the hell was messing with me had trouble forming sounds that would be understandable to my scrambled brain. I closed my eyes in relief when the fingers left my body. I was wrong, after all. For a moment I was afraid I'd be raped by an entity. What a frightening thought! Something zoomed in front of my eyes and paused on the periphery of my vision. Even though the creature could move with a speed of light I had a feeling that it wasn't what I had just seen. The object that sped past me very slowly returned and stilled itself directly in front of me. It was the thing that came out of its mouth earlier. A tube-like tongue or so it seemed. Now it appeared as if it had eyes of its own. It swayed softly to the left and to the right, as if it was a dancing cobra, observing me. Another terrifying thought struck me and I wished I could have moved more than just my eyes. I wished I could have clamped my lips shut so tight nothing would ever be able to enter my mouth. An odd sound of sniffing whistled out of the tube and I realized that this is how the creature must have been testing my smells. The tongue, or so I presumed that's what it was, gently touched my nose, my cheek and the exposed ear. It was cold and slimy to touch, almost metallic. Yet again, as if reading my mind, the thing carefully touched my lips, prodded against them and then squeezed itself in. The taste of it in my mouth was foul beyond description. Acidy, sour and stingy, it seemed to leak some sort of fluid or saliva, as if lubricating my mouth. It kept sliding farther into my mouth. It touched the back of my throat and wiggled itself down it, making my entire body shiver when I retched, but nothing came back up from my stomach. I could feel every inch of its progress, the unpleasant coldness inside my body giving away how far it has advanced. When it hit the wall of my stomach, I could feel it prod and push against it, which at first felt uncomfortable, but progressively more painful as it kept driving against the soft flesh of my organs. Unconcerned by the obstacle it slammed against it powerfully a few times and I could feel the flesh deep inside my body tear as the tongue broke through the softness, driving further, bruising and cutting my intestines and god knows what else. The sweet taste of blood filled my mouth and I believed I would go mad if I were not able to scream. As if satisfied or disappointed with what it had found in my stomach, I could feel the tongue slowly pulling out of me, inch by painful inch. The feeling that I got was that there were tiny tentacles or thorns on it, which when pulled back would stab deep inside my flesh, as if refusing the action of retrieval. I could feel a tickly trickle of fluid seeping out of my mouth, soaking the pillow on which I had been lying. It must have been a mixture of my own blood and the creature's juices. Just as the tip of the tongue, which was the most painful part, reached my throat, it seemed to have made a tiny loop inside it and to my horror resumed the its exploration, this time upwards, stabbing through my breathing canal and to what I presumed was inside my brain. The pain was unbelievable, even compared to the brutal tearing of my stomach. I could feel the thin, cold tongue enveloping my brain, squeezing it like a python and then it began to swell up. Little by little, as if sucking something out of my head, it was vibrating and bloating until it must have been the size of a man's wrist. I believed my jaw would dislocate at any given moment; my eyes hurt with pressure of being pushed out of my head; the sinus headache that I had had a winter before and which had left me almost debilitated was a child's play compared to what I was feeling at this particular moment. Each and every one of my teeth began hurting with a stinging pain, a toothache so horrendous like I have never felt before in my life. The creature was obviously sucking something out of my head, my body and even though I didn't want to know what that was I was certain that these were the last seconds of my life. My brain was to be devoured by something I couldn't understand, for reasons that I comprehended even more. The pain was becoming more intense, even though I thought it could not have gotten any worse. My mind began fogging up, and the last thought I had was to God. Why was he letting this happen to me? If it truly was real. Soulless Blissful oblivion enveloped me and my dream either ended, or I had became unconscious. At the time I couldn't have sworn on either. CHAPTER 3 I opened my eyes and before I did anything else, I tried to move. I lifted my head off the pillow, blinked my eyes, jerked my arm and slowly rolled over to the side. The sheets felt damp against my skin and I believed that it must have been my own sweat that had made them so. What a nightmare! I thought and with great relief let the head fall back onto the pillow. The room was bright with sunlight; it was late morning. It was the first time in over two months that I had afforded myself to sleep this late. Not quite dreamless as I had wished it to be, nevertheless, I felt re-energized. I was wondering why Dick hadn't come up to wake me. Normally, he would have been banging on my door and calling out to me soon after the first crack of dawn. I pushed the covers off my body and sat up, letting my legs slip off the bed. That dream must have been something, I thought. I have never had any kind of hip pains in my life. I was too young for that and despite my vigorous interest in sports, numerous bruises and cuts, even broken bones, hips were never ones to suffer. This morning however, I had a very odd achy feeling and stiffness that I had never felt before. I looked down into my lap and jumped off the bed screaming. My white boxer shorts were soaked in blood. I turned around and checked the bed sheets. Blood everywhere. "Fuck! Oh, God! Oh, my God!" I kept yelling, panic tightly gripping at my chest, almost preventing me from drawing a breath. I ran into the adjacent bathroom and literally ripped my boxer shorts off, slipped into the shower and turned on the faucet, not caring that the water was stone cold. I stood under the spray of slowly warming water, half listening for Dick's heavy footsteps to run up to my door. He must have heard me screaming. They never came. I felt faint; my heart was slamming against my chest; I couldn't touch the blood on my body. I let it wash off before I reached for the soap and forcefully leathered my body - arms, chest, legs, back and even my face. I washed my hair and rinsed the soap off, only to run the bar of it all over my body again. I looked down and realized that the drain was half-clogged and I now stood in two inches of pinkish water, colored by the blood off my body. I couldn't even tell if it was my own or somebody else's blood that I had woken up in. A million thoughts raced through my mind. They were flashes that lasted only a second or two, some familiar, others completely alien to me. I couldn't think straight. I tried to wrap my mind around the events in my dreams and somehow connect them to the reason I was now standing in the shower washing off blood, but I couldn't stabilize the rush of thought enough to grasp onto one comprehensive explanation. As I was stepping out of the shower I sneezed. I don't know why I did that; nothing was tickling my nose, it was just something I did. A searing pain shot from my bowels through my body and brutally stabbed into my brain. For a moment I was certain I could feel my spine ache. A pressure built up inside my head, and my eyes felt as if they were just about to pop out. I believed that my head was going to explode. I felt a warm trickle down my legs, something more than just the water from the shower and as I looked down, I was horrified to notice that narrow streaks of blood were finding their way over my skin to the white and black tiled bathroom floor. The blood seemed to ooze down the back of my thighs. I turned my back towards the large mirror and twisted my head and upper torso, hoping to find some sort of cut on my back or shoulders, which still wouldn't explain the profound bleeding, but I was certain it would have calmed me down. Again I felt as if I was ready to pass out. The site of blood, especially my own had always made me weak and sick to my stomach. One look at my body in the mirror told me that the dream from the night before was not just a dream but a true occurrence. Someone had immobilized and then raped me, hurting my insides, messing with my mind and leaving me sore and feeling broken. The source of blood trickles came from the lower part of my buttocks and as I realized that, I also became aware of an achy and burning feeling in my colon, as if I had just taken a hard shit. I reached around my hip and gently pushed the finger into the crack of my ass. I didn't want to touch myself like that, I've never done it before, save for washing and I felt dirty being forced to do it now. Gentle touch of the finger against my asshole made me jump, as the burning seemed to intensify. I brought the hand to the front, looking at the stain of fresh blood that coated my middle finger. The feeling of nausea overwhelmed me and I could feel the contents of my stomach surging up, pushing against my Adam's apple. I retched and tried to keep it down, but the force of the nature was stronger than my body and I just had enough time to lift the toilette seat, bend over and throw up violently. It took forever to empty my stomach. When I was done I felt no better. A massive headache made my temples throb with each beat of my heart. Still naked and wet I staggered out of the bathroom and fell back onto the bed. The fact that the sheets were bloody didn't bother me anymore. Obviously, the blood was all mine and I had to choose between passing out cold on the bathroom floor or crawling into bed and wait for nausea to pass. I felt revitalized when I first awoke earlier, but now it seemed as if energy had drained off me and I was left feeling empty. Despite the fear and incoherence of my mind I managed to fall back asleep. This time, however, it was dreamless. Soft rapping on the door awakened me and I jumped off the bed in panic, bursting towards the door and making sure it remained closed, even though the person on the other side didn't try to enter. "Boy?" Dick's voice pierced my head, my eyes hurting from the pressure of the headache. "Boy, are you up?" "Yeah, but I'm not feeling well." I said, at the same time inspecting my legs. The blood flow seemed to have stopped. It was now caked all over my legs in trickles, but there was no sign of any fresh traces. "Okay," said Dick. "When ya feel better, why don'cha come down? I reckon we have to have a talk." I heard his heavy steps moving away from the door and softly thudding their way down the staircase. I still wasn't myself completely. The headache was just as bad as it had been before I fell asleep. My body didn't hurt as much, but I had a feeling like somebody had beaten the life out of me. I was frightened and depressed. I didn't know if I could face Dick with my wild story about Jeannie's late night visit. I certainly could not tell him about what I thought was rape. After another shower and a probing cough, which to my great relief did not produce any additional bleeding I dressed myself and with a heavy heart descended the stairs. I saw Dick standing outside, leaning against a big oak tree that cast the cooling shadow on the house in the hottest of days. He looked at me as I approached and then turned his head away. He appeared like a man with something on his mind. "I reckon you'd better sit down, boy." He said and pointed to a bench under the tree. I didn't want to sit down, I didn't want to have a heart-to-heart talk, although I felt that one was coming and there was nothing I could do to avoid it. I sat down slowly and carefully, as if fearing the pain from the night before might return. After the initial eye contact Dick didn't look at me for a long time. That, however, didn't stop him from talking. "Now, I know this will all sound very strange and ya might even be angry at me, boy." He said and my stomach knotted in fear. "I'll explain as much as I can if ya'll let me and maybe years from now ya'll even find it in yer heart to forgive me." A twinge of anger fired somewhere deep in my guts, but I was ready to listen. There was nothing else I could do. Dick spat and ran his hand through the mop of black graying hair. Notably, his cowboy hat had been missing. This was the first time I had seen him bareheaded since I've known him. I looked at him closer and noticed that in the last couple of weeks his hair had receded drastically. It wasn't as bushy as it had been and I could almost swear that there was a bald patch forming on the top of his head. "I know what happened last night, boy." He said and my heart froze. "I din't hear nothin', nobody did or ever will, which might be a bit of a relief to ya. But I do know what happened." "You let Jeannie into the house?" I asked incredulously. "Is that what she told ya her name was?" He laughed hoarsely, but there was a definite sadness on his face. When his lips parted in a smile I realized one of his front upper teeth was missing. I could have sworn it was there the day before. Dick's face was gaunter than normal; the skin had sort of a scaly texture as if he had some sort of a disease or eczema. He was not a handsome man to begin with, but now he looked like I felt. "What do you mean?" I asked, the fire of anger intensifying. "Well," he spat again and I hoped that there would be more talking than spitting. It started to get on my nerves. "When ya're a kid, ya're afraid of the boogeyman and things that go bump in the night, monsters under the bed or in the closets, shadows and funny noises. Ya get the pich'ure. "They keep tellin' ya it's all in yer head. There's supposedly no spooky things in yer room, not even out on the balcony." Talking about spooky, this particular statement spooked me almost out of my wits. When I was a kid I had a bedroom with a balcony and many a time I would terrify myself with suspicions that there was a monster standing on my balcony, waiting for me to go to sleep so that it could enter and do whatever horrible thing monsters do. It had been a very long time since I believed that, but to this day, I still don't like rooms with balconies. In the dead of night my imagination might get the better of me and not quite scare me, rather make me feel uncomfortable. I wondered how Dick had known about the monster on the balcony. Dick pulled a battered pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and lit one with trembling hands. At that very moment he seemed so vulnerable, and vulnerability is not something one would think men like Dick were prone to. "Anyways," he puffed a thin, gray smoke and spat again. "I reckon a boy convinces hisself there really are no monsters and later on might even laugh at hisself some. He even gets to be brave enough to get up in the middle of the night and peep under the bed, open the closet door or step out on the balcony." He looked at me and I shivered. A milky film of puss was covering his left eye, the same kind as I had seen on the dog at the whorehouse. He rolled his eyes and a tear of the puss trickled down his face. My stomach turned and I was afraid that despite emptying it in the bathroom earlier, I might have to puke again. "Dick, are you okay?' I asked, the stench of stomach acid feeling my nostrils from the inside. "Yep, ain't been this good in a long time, boy. I'm dyin', ya know." He said and I shook my head as if to oppose this nonsense comment. Even I had to admit that he looked like he only had a couple of more Fridays to go. "I been miserable for years. Now I'm good. I'm ready to die in peace and I'll tell ya why. That's a part of what I'm 'bout to tell ya anyways. "Where was I?" he asked and repositioned himself against the tree. I almost asked him to come and sit on the bench next to me, but then I remembered the oppressing stench that I had been noticing on him for days and changed my mind. "Oh, yeah. The monsters." He nodded. "Well, boy, this is whatcha might call tough love. What I'm 'bout to tell ya is not nice or easy, but it's all true, every single word of it and the better ya listen, the more ya know, the sooner ya can get out of it. Understand?" I simply stared at him. I had a dreadful feeling of what was to come, but I didn't want to indulge my fears and start weaving my own theories before I heard more. Although, truth to be told, my mind was full of those already. Anger, fear, and nausea seemed to run a whirlwind inside my body. "You prob'ly won't believe half of it, if that much. All ya need to do is listen and store it all somewhere in yer mind. It'll all come handy to ya, eventually." "Wait," I said weakly. "About Jeannie..." "Her name's Troiana. I figure there was somebody in yer life called Jeannie that was quite important, right?" I shook my head. "I never thought she was that important." "Aha!" he laughed wildly and another look at his yellow stained and now gaped smile sickened me even further. "Everything that happens to ya from now on has a meaning. Ya might not realize how big it is, or was, but it'll all come from yer mind and subconscious. Trus' me. Everything has a meaning, boy!" He spat again. "If she told ya her name was Jeannie, I'll bet my life that ya had a girlfriend by that name, or at least ya was in love with a Jeannie at some point. She looked like yer Jeannie, too. Din't she?" "Yeah." I admitted. I was stunned over my reaction. I should have been mad, furious really. All I did was sit on the bench like a pile of misfortune, listening to this incredulous gibberish, not protesting. "Anyway, gettin' off the track here, boy." He repositioned himself against the tree again. It seemed like his body was in a pain of its own, making it hard for him to stand for a prolonged period of time. "I've read somewhere how bein' truthful in the moments of hardship is the best remedy, ya know? Like when ya walk into the doc's office and he tells ya to take care of all yer shit cos the cancer is killing ya and ya've but months to live." "Aren't you getting off track again?" I asked and he laughed, coughing up mucus and spiting it to the side, away from me. "Nah, I reckon I ain't. I'm just tryin' to make it easier to understand." He said and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, dangerously swaying against the tree as if he was about to fall. "I'm just gonna come out and tell ya, boy. See, the other day in the whorehouse, remember?" How could I not have? "Well, see ya lost yer soul to Troiana. Or Jeannie. Or whatever ya wanna call her." "I see." I said, trying hard to suppress a giggle. The old man had me scared for a moment. Dick looked at me and his face was plastered with annoyance. "That sarcastic shit that ya're doing right now, boy? That ain't helpin' nobody. It sure ain't helpin' you!" I couldn't hold the laughter any longer. "Oh, come on, Dick. I'm not ten, you know. I really thought you had something to tell me!" Dick moved quickly as a snake, faster than I would attribute to any man, let alone to someone his age and obvious failing health. One second he was leaning against the tree, the next his face was inches away from my own, the pussy eye so close I was afraid some of the yellowy ooze would fall onto my skin. I shrunk away, the stale stench of garlic and whiskey assaulting my nose. "She came in last night, din't she?" I shook my head in negation. "Oh yes, she did. I know she did! She looked different than when ya've met her in the whorehouse, but ya knew it was her, di'ncha?" I shook my head again. "Ya laid on the bed and couldn't flinch. Ya tried and tried, but couldn't move a finger. Only yer eyes was free to roll 'round yer head." He moved away a little, but his face was still dangerously close to mine. "Ya couldn't see her very well at first, she stood too far behind ya. Then she popped her face right in front of ya and ya wished she hadn't! Ain't that so, boy?" I felt my entire body trembling. "Well, ain't it?" He raised his arm as if he was trying to push his absent hat up his head. "Ya could tell it was her. Troiana, or Jeannie, or whatever name she had given ya. It was her alright, but she looked different. Those crazy eyes probed deep inside yer skull and ya thought you was either losing yer mind or dying, di'ncha?" Finally, I nodded. He obviously knew what he was talking about. If he had never experienced it, he couldn't have guessed it in a million years. He wasn't quite done yet. "And then ya felt your legs prodded open. Far, far apart. Ya thought yer bones was gonna snap! Ya thought yer hips was gonna pop out of the sockets. You was hurtin', but ya couldn't move and ya sure as hell couldn't scream. Yer mind screamed but nothin' came out of yer mouth, did it?" I stared at Dick's face, trying to take it all in, trying to get used to the sickly eye and not be disgusted by it. "Did it, boy? And then she did somethin' that shouldn't be done to no man. Not unless ya're one of 'em faggots, anyways." His eyes rolled and landed on me. "Ain't that so, boy?" "Yes!" I screamed. "Yes, you bastard, yes! I'd better not find out it was your fault! I'd better not find out you gave me something to get me stoned and let her into my room!" I tried to get off the bench, ready to punch the old man, knowing that despite the diseased look he was probably still strong enough to floor me with one powerful smack. His heavy hand pushed against my shoulder, preventing me to move, just like I had been unable to move the night before. "Sit still, boy! I ain't finished yet." "It was my fault in a way, I'm sorry to say. But ya went willingly, without a second thought." Without a second thought? I had plenty of those! "Well, maybe ya did have them, but ya went anyways. Ya listened to yer dick rather than to yer head." Was he reading my mind now? No comment was made to make me think that he did, but I believed otherwise. "Ya let her suck yer dick that day in the whorehouse, di'ncha?" I wasn't going to honor his question with an answer. I rolled my eyes at him, the dread freezing my body into immobility. "Oh fuck, boy! Get over yer'self, will ya?" He spat, this time not taking care to turn away first. The green mucus blob landed inches away from the bench. "Well, I know she did, so don't bother sayin' yay or nay. "When she was doin' it, di'ncha feel the insides of yer body? The edges of each separate organ razor sharp to yer senses? Di'ncha feel yer spine and yer brain? Di'ncha feel odd 'bout it? "Sure did, I reckon, but ya thought she was just that good! Ya silly boy! Don't worry though. We've all been there, even me and I was much older than you. I also thought she was just that good! Ya'd have thought I'd have more sense than that. Fuck!" He coughed towards me and another wave of sickly stench hit my nose. "I felt like my insides was made of jello, with my heart and liver and kidney and everything else floatin' in it. I felt like she was sucking that jello outta me, pullin' my brain out of the skull, suckin' my eyes in and jammin' all the organs into my stomach." I felt the same. I couldn't have described it quite that well, but now that it has been said out loud, I had seen it all as it came out of his mouth. "That jello shit, boy, that's yer soul she was suckin' outta ya. The soul keeps yer body and mind together and now ya lost it!" "Shouldn't I be dead?" I was still uncertain whether I should consider this a serious talk or nonsense spawn from a rotting brain of an old man. "Don't be stupid! Ya don't die just cos ya lose yer soul. Ya suffer like hell, I can tell ya that much! Ya'll never be happy again. There's gonna be no pleasure in anythin' ya do. Every time ya smile or laugh, ya'll feel like a razor has just been thrust up yer ass, cutt'n' your insides, travelin' up your spine and jammin' itself into your brain." Soulless "You laugh all the time, Dick." "I had to, boy! Would ya have trus'ed me enough to come to the whorehouse with me otherwise? Would others? Prob'ly not. Nobody wants to keep company with a miserable old fart. I had to smile and laugh and make ma'self suffer. If I din't, I'd never redeem ma'self, now would I?" "What do you mean, redeem?" Dick ignored my question and held his own line of thought. "She ain't done with ya yet, boy." I shuddered. "She'll be back, ya can count on that! Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow. But ya can bet yer skinny ass that she'll be back." "Why?' my voice was hoarse and almost inaudible. "Now that ya have no soul, ya're gonna be one scared and miserable motherfucker, boy. And that's what they're feedin' on. Fear and depression, and despair." He nodded to himself and finally moved away, leaning against the tree again. "They've got yer soul and now they're feeding it with yer own misery! Bastards!" "Shouldn't you have warned me? I thought a person was always told before the soul was traded or taken or whatever you want to call it." I was still convincing myself that I was simply humoring the old guy. "You ain't never been warned, boy? You ain't never been to church and the priest was preachin' about the sins and the Devil and how it's bad to fuck without a weddin' band on yer finger and the curse of the whores and those who patron them?" Of course that was so. But shouldn't there be a specific warning, went through my mind. "Nah, boy! They reckon, why repeating one and the same sermon over and over. Ya been warned plenty. By the priest, by your momma prob'ly, by everybody. Di'ncha ever get a hooker to suck yer dick b'fore and ya felt wrong about it?" Sure I did. "Sure ya did! But ya went and done it again anyways, di'ncha?" He was absolutely right, I couldn't dispute that. "Well, now that she has yer soul, she keeps coming back again and again to feed on yer misery and especially fear. The more ya're scared, the happier she is. "She'll be back once or twice a week. Sometimes ya won't see her for a month and ya'll begin hopin' that she's gone for good. But she'll show up again, and will prob'ly be showin' up every night for two weeks. Ya'll be thinkin' that she'll kill ya, cos ya're gonna be hurtin' so bad. "Then, she'll stop for a few days. She'll never take pity on ya, boy. Don't even count on it. Ya'll never be able to talk to her with words, but ya'll find that she talks to ya with her thoughts and she can hear yer thoughts, too. If ya beg her to stop, she'll only do it harder and more painful. "Ya need to take it like a man. Ya're payin' for yer sins, boy! No need to shame yer'self, too." Adrenalin rushed through my body, making my head even achier. My sight became blurry for a moment and I hoped that this is the continuation of the bad dream from the night before. "There's hope, though." He said and rolled his eyes at me. "Like I said, salvation is possible." "How?" Again, he ignored my question. "There's a trick to it, though. The longer ya take to redeem yer'self, the worse off yer soul when ya finally get it back. "Ya have seventeen years of time to do it in." "Why seventeen?" I asked. "Don't know. But ya better remember it. There's thirteen souls ya have to give 'em, just like I gave 'em yers." "Why thirteen?" "Fuck, boy!" Dick seemed to be getting annoyed with me now. What he was telling me was obviously haunting to him and he didn't want to be interrupted by my questions and demands of explanation. "I don't know why! Don't wanna know, to tell ya the truth. Ya find out what ya need to know, the rest ya let be in peace. If ya start poking yer nose into what ya shouldn't be poking it into, well..." Dick spat. "I really don't know what happens, but I reckon ya just might get yer'self into more trouble than ya're already in." "You need to explain a little more, Dick. Please?" My heart seemed to have completely accepted his story now, my mind still doubted. Deep down, I knew he wasn't lying, he knew too much. This wasn't a joke, because if it had been it wasn't funny or amusing. And I haven't seen Dick laugh much that particular morning. "I'll tell ya how to get back to the whorehouse later. It's not there all the time. To an accidental by passer it's invisible. It's like, whatchema call it...eh...a warp. Yeah, right, a warp. "Anyways, ya gotta find thirteen men to go in there with ya and fuck with one of 'em girls. For goodness sake, boy, doncha go fuckin' any of 'em again! I don't even know what woulda happen to ya if ya did." "Oh, don't worry, Dick. I've had enough sex for a long time if not forever." Dick let out a hearty laugh. "That's 'zactly how I felt for a long time, boy! I reckon I still do. "Anyways, you gotta find 'em boys or men and take 'em in there. Martha will welcome ya like a son, she will. She knows ya now, so don't worry 'bout that. "Every soul that ya give 'em will make ya feel a little better. A little less scared and miserable, but it'll never go completely away until ya're done, ya understand?" I nodded. "If ya take a long time, ya'll get yer soul back in a bad way, like me. That's why I'm dyin' now. It's a shadow of what I used to have. I can't 'splain it, but you'll understand when it happens to ya. If it ever does. "Even if ya know ya're gonna die within weeks afterwards it'll make ya happy. Ya know ya won't be goin' to no hell. I don't know if there's heaven, but at least ya'll be free of hell! I may feel and look like shit now, but b'lieve me, I feel better than I had in almost seventeen years." I sighed in relief, as much relief as I could feel in the predicament I had found myself in. "Oh no, boy! Don't go thinkin' it's gonna be easy, cos it ain't." Dick hurried up. "Ya can't make nobody do what they don't wanna. Ya can't drag 'em in there. They have to do it on their own. Ya can push 'em a little, like I did you, but ya can't force 'em. "There's gonna be many who will get scared at the sight of the whorehouse. It's an ugly old shack, it looks like it's full of disease and despair and a lot of 'em are gonna turn 'round and run away. Some of 'em have that sixth sense of somethin' and they know somethin' really bad is in there. And ya can't do nothin' else but look for another one to pimp in." The more Dick talked, the more depressed I became. Sadness kept squeezing my heart to the point of pain. I wanted to cry partly because I was not certain if what he was telling me was real, afraid to disbelieve, partly because I knew every word was true and I had brought it all on myself. "What happens if I don't make it?" "Oooh," said Dick and the seriousness of his face chilled my already aching heart. "I ain't sure 'bout that. I reckon it can't be no better than what happens now. I reckon ya become sort of a slave to demons. Ya can never get out of it then. One chance ya have, boy. One! Ya better make the best of it! "One good thing about this business is that ya'll stay 'zactly the way you are right now. Ya don't get sick. Ya don't lose yer hair or teeth. Fuck, ya can run around the house naked in the five inches of snow and ya'll only get cold feet, but no runny nose or fever or nothin' like that. I was sixty-two when it happened to me. Now I'm almost eighty and it's showin'. Has been showin' for the last two weeks, ain't it? "It'll all hit ya when ya get yer soul back. Never fear! That's why I'm in a bad way now. But like I said, I'm happy! "Took me almost seventeen years, boy! Ya saved me at the last moment. Well, I had one more month to go, but I was already beginnin' to despair. I was terrified I wasn't gonna make it. "The hardest part is when ya realize that people don't trus' ya enough to just go with ya to the whorehouse. First ya go for strangers, see. Ya don't wanna put yer friends and loved ones through what ya're goin' through. "Later, as the years go by, ya realize that ya don't care 'bout nobody enough to spare them the pain, humiliation and even death in hell. Ya just wanna save yer'self. So, if there is heaven, I ain't sure if ya'd actually fit in it after ya had yer brother's soul traded for yer own, but I ain't worried 'bout it too much now. I suggest ya don't go worryin' 'bout it, neither!" "Who is Jeannie? Or whatever her name is?" Dick let out a deep and heavy cough. "Troiana." "Yeah, Troiana." "Well, 'member how the priests used to preach that suicide is wrong?" "Oh, God!" I shivered. My mind went straight to the people of whom I had known had taken their own lives. A girl from the house next door where I lived as a kid who was found hanging in her bedroom, my uncle, my cousin, two guys from college who got so stoned they thought they could fly and leaped off the highest building they could find, I guess that would technically rate as a suicide. The list went on and on. I didn't want to think about it. "Yeah, you prob'ly don't wanna think 'bout it too much. It'll just drive you mad. "Those women killed themselves in one way or another. I don't know how He picks and chooses between 'em, but some become night demons. Troiana is one of 'em. She gets yer soul and feeds on ya to keep it alive for Him." "Him?" "Don't be stupid, boy! I don't wanna be mentionin' His name out loud, no point in calling attention to ourselves like that. Ya know who I'm talking 'bout." I supposed I did. I had gotten quite good at this little puzzle of Dick's. "Anyways, I b'lieve she suffers just as much as ya do, if not more. That's why she's so fucking mean, never giving ya a break. Enjoying your pain and terror. "Now, ya gotta remember this good, boy!" He waved his long, skinny finger in my face. "If ya don't make it in time, yer soul is lost. I don't know where ya go and what happens and fuck, I don't wanna know, but I'll tell ya this much: it can't be no better than this. It's prob'ly ten times worse. Heck, a hundred times! So don't mess around! Get to it right away!" One thought had been weighing heavily on my mind. "Why did that woman mention my grandfather, Dick?" "How many men do ya see on this estate, boy?" I looked around, knowing that we were completely alone. "It's a big enough estate to employ twenty if not more, I reckon." I nodded. "My grandfather, Dick?" "Alright, alright I'm getting to it!" He rolled his eyes and coughed. "He took 'em all to the whorehouse, boy. Every single one of 'em, including me. The hired hands, that is." I could not believe my own ears. "And when he saved hisself, he let me take the rest to the whorehouse to save ma'self. That's why ain't nobody left here. Some left on their own accord, some left to find others. "Some were stupid enough to run away from here after the first night the demon-whore came to visit 'em and they don't even know how to redeem themselves. I reckon they ended up in a place I don't want to know nothin' 'bout. And trus' me, ya don't want neither." "Does my grandfather know what you did?" I asked, fearful that he might have. "Not really. I reckon he'd know I was after ya. He knew my time was running out. He really didn't have much to say 'bout it. After all, he got me in this mess, ain't he? "Ya needn't worry 'bout your grandpa, boy! He died in his sleep this mornin' before I knocked on your door. He died peacefully, he's okay now." Sadness gripped my heart again and I was shocked to realize that it wasn't grief for my grandfather, but rather terror over my fate. Of course I believed Dick. I believed every word of his. How could he have made up something so disgusting and hopeless? He didn't have the brain enough to learn to read properly, let alone tell a story so elaborate as the one he had just told me. "C'mon, boy!" said Dick and stepped towards the house. "I reckon we need to call the coroner or somethin'. Afterwards, I'll show ya how to get to the old whorehouse, it ain't hard, don't worry." A million thoughts ran through my mind as I was trailing Dick back to the house. I supposed suicide was out of the question. If chicks become demons and are fed on by a higher power, God only knows what would have happened to me. "Ya right 'bout that, boy!" Dick's voice jerked me out of my thoughts. "Better not even think 'bout it. Come, it ain't all that bad, you'll see." He spat and I don't know what made me look at the greenish blob carefully, but I was horrified to notice a tooth sitting on top of it. No, sure ain't that bad at all! YEARS LATER... Dick lingered around for another two months, before he too, had finally and mercifully succumbed. His death was hard; his body was literally falling apart right in front of my eyes. He was really not much of a comfort to me. I quit the apprenticeship in Dallas and remained on my grandfather's farm. I hired a large group of farmhands, some of which I managed to trick into coming to the whorehouse with me, losing their souls in order to save mine. Like Dick said, many were so terrified of the first night's visit by the entity they ran away blindly without telling me and I could never explain how to redeem and save themselves. At first I would feel bad about what I had done. But just as it was all laid out to me, word for word, everything Dick told me came true. The demon visits me on regular basis. Sometimes once or twice a week, sometimes it leaves me alone for a month only to torture me for an entire week afterwards. I thought I might have gotten used to it or at least that it would have become easier, but I was wrong. I am still as terrified when I wake up and cannot move, knowing what is to follow as I had been that first night. I still feel the incredible pain of every touch that invades my body. I have not gotten sick since the day it had happened. Apart from the nightly visits, I feel hardly any pain at all, ever. My sight and hearing have improved, sometimes to the limits of freakiness. I am like a bionic man. But I can feel my insides slowly rotting away if that's what I could call it. It scares me. I have found my first victim mere weeks after this whole demon business had happened. Quite mistakenly, I came to believe that it would be no problem to find thirteen men foolish enough to want an easy fuck. I have taken many to the whorehouse, but most of them chickened out at the sight of the old shack. Some of them, I believe, could see the evil radiating out of it, and they bolted out of my car, running to the nearest town never to return to the farm. Today, I am taking the number eight. I don't have much time left, less than three years and I am afraid that I will fail miserably. That's why I am bringing my best friend with me, John. Well, we used to be best friends. In the past years we have drifted apart. He said I had changed a lot and he couldn't understand my motives for anything anymore. Of course I know exactly what he means, but I cannot explain it to him, can I? Even if did, I seriously doubt he would believe me. He has had a good life so far. He is doing very well in his own accounting and taxation business. His wife is gorgeous. They have three beautiful kids. I on the other hand have done nothing but think about how I will save myself for the past fourteen years. It's time our lucks and misfortunes change places. Anyway, we've had plenty to drink and smoke in the morning and he is pleasantly buzzed but not too much out of it, I think. It pains me deeply to be doing this to him, but I have learned to push my concerns and humanity all the way back in my mind. It hardly ever surfaces anymore. "You've got to be kidding me!" was John's reaction when we pulled up in front of the whorehouse. "Yeah, I know..." I said and winked at him. "The best bordello you've ever been to, though! Trust me, you won't regret it..."