Eros & Echoes

As we conversate lightly, we gradually draw closer to each other. Trying to steady our breath and force down the blushing in our cheeks. As you lean over me to reach from the cupboards, i am hit gently with your smell and i am able to gaze upon the definition of your arms and the pulsing veins in your neck. My brain empties and you try your hardest to draw me back into the room to continue our conversation as if nothing is happening. But my brain is empty and full of you. You grab my face and my body jolts back to the reality of it all. We are getting riskier everyday. Growing less and less careful with our public intimacy and its electrifying.

He slaps my cheek swiftly and continues as normal. He owns my body and i am completely weakened by his dominating presence. I try to regain my train of thought. Yes, add the sugar to the tea and stir. I turn away from him slightly and he grabs my neck. His hands consume the full width of my neck with ease and i feel so small in his grasp. My legs shake slightly and i can feel my pants getting increasingly wetter as he gets closer to me.

It’s dark. A cool Autumn night. The smell of wet mud is heavy in the air, along with the trailing scent of flesh left by the souls wondering this forest throughout the day.

The moon is full tonight and I have taken my chosen form.

My hot breath lingers in the air. The only evidence of my existence.

I move quietly and with intention. Hoping to stumble across a willing body to share my ritualistic blessing with. My unholy seed.

After many hours, I pick up a gentle hint of feminine breath. I can hear her pulse on her delicate neck and I hone in on its rhythm.

There she is. A lonely soul.

Her hair is vibrant red and it surrenders itself to the wind of this cold night. She walks with pace. Trying desperately to find her way out this baron landscape. Surrounded by spiralling trees that reach out and grab at her rain coat and tight denim jeans.

I can smell her fear. I can smell how her body trembles under those distracting garments.

It’s time for me to take my prize as she reaches the deepest part of the forest. Where no one will hear the crows squawking or cries for help.

It happens so quickly she barely has time to inhale before I swipe her legs from beneath her. Her head hits the cold ground, taking her consciousness immediately. I work quickly. Biting into her exposed shoulder. It draws blood. It’s sweet like honey. Her life is my nectar.

I carry her limp form deeper into the forest. Covered by trees. This will be our little secret.

In this body I can do anything. My nails are sharp like blades. They are filthy from the terrain under foot. I draw my knife-like talons down the centre front of her torso, cutting through her coat and shirt with immense precision. I continue to the denim. Only cutting where I need to, to expose only the areas for my visual and feral needs.

I’m burning up as my eyes feast upon her beauty. Her skin is pale and glows iridescent in this blue moon light. The blood from her head wound sparkles and blends into the hot tones of her hair. Her pink nipples match the rose of her lips. They’re pursed and inviting.