Love, Sex & Monsters

The monstrous beast’s singsong voice sends shivers down your spine. You cover your mouth with both hands to keep them from hearing your breathing.

“I’m going to find you, you know…”

Their claws scrape across the walls as their heavy, pounding footsteps shake the floor. You scoot further back into the shadows of your hiding place. This wasn’t good; they were getting closer.

“You can’t hide forever…”

You can see movement through the tiny crack in the door. Your nails dig into your flesh as you try to keep silent.

The movement stops, and you hear something.

They were sniffing the air. SHIT.

Before you have a chance to react, a massive, clawed hand flings the door open and the beast stands over you, eyes burning in triumph.

“I. Found. YOU.”

They reach down and grab you, lifting you into the air. The light catches their shining fangs as they bring you closer to their jaws. You close your eyes, knowing what’s next.

They lick you, their tongue large and bumpy. It wraps around your neck and tickles your ear. A hot breath escapes from their mouth, engulfing you in a peppermint scent.

It was a really good thing you’d taught them about brushing their teeth.

“Okay, okay! You found me! Stop it, already; that tickles,” you say as they continue licking you. You push their snout away, and they chuckle darkly.

what we actually mean by werewolves:

What we actually mean by werewolves:

I’m so mad I haven’t uploaded this yet.

Turning into a monster because of all the time spent with your monster lover

Hearing them trill with amusement as you adjust to your new body

Jean was beneath the water again, drowning as the icy waters clung to her … jeans? She blinked; the dream had always been the men holding her head below the river until the water weighed her down and her strength left her.

Now…. she was wearing her sweatshirt and jeans, the ones she always wore while tending her garden. And instead of being held under, she was being dragged under. Glancing down, a ghastly face rose from the darkness, a woman, her black hair swirling in the water, her mouth open in a silent scream, her eyes black and empty. She clutched at her leg with long, bone-thin fingers, her nails, talon like, ripping into the fabric. Her form was equally as skeletal, but despite her near dead appearance, her grip never wavered. Not until Jean was near the bottom, at least; then, faster than Jean could blink, the woman had her hands tightly around her Jean’s throat.

The next moment Hellion’s booming bark pulled her from the dream; the dog sat beside her, his warm body thawing the chill that seeped from the dream river into her bones. She looked around the yard, and spied Jack, huddled in a corner. Hellion, dropped his heavy body across Jean’s lap, holding her in place until her hands stopped shaking.

Jack threw back his head, flames erupting around his body and bellowed,

“CURSE YOU TO HEAVENS HIGH! HARM HER AGAIN AND I’LL SEE YOU DIE!”

The cold in the garden grew; her breath came out in foggy puffs, even as frost formed rapidly in front of her eyes.. Hellion growled, and the frost stopped short of the bench. Snorting, Hellion slide down to the ground, and glanced back at Jean. She rose and placed her shaky hand on his pelt, feeling his warmth flow into her. She glanced at Jack a moment longer, before the black dog led her back inside.

*****

Jack could feel the evil creatures presence standing just behind him. The Black Dog had shed, purposefully, all over Jean’s house; the cold, and therefore, her influence, could not enter.

“Show yourself, you heartless wench, i know you’re there, i know your stench.” He whispered.

The door to the small house slammed shut a moment before a blast of icy air froze his vines to their core.

“Speak kindly to me, you son of a whore, or i’ll see to it you’ll walk no more.”

Jack slowly turned to face her; the woman stood in the center of the garden, the ground around the hem of her dress frozen white. Her eyes and hair were black as the night, and her lips, frozen blue. Her bone-thin fingers clutched a broken staff, the other end impaled through where her heart should be.

Jack noted there was no stain of blood around the wound….

“You’ve tried that once, I’ve escaped your pen; what happen once, will happen again.” Jack whispered.

The woman’s smile was as sharp and brittle as the icy surrounding her, “Not if i freeze your bones; i’ll break your pact, and destroy her home.”

Flames danced along vines, the fiery colors of fall erupting over the frozen ground. Jack’s visage grew more sinister, as he raised a gnarled finger at the woman,

“She’s not dead yet, despite your plan; she remains tied to this land.”

The woman laughed, sending chills down his wooden spine; “Not for long my dearest grandson; you’re still in danger, you’ve far from won.”

****

Jean watched from the couch as the woman in white vanished, and Jack visibly sagged. Hellion was laying beside her, head in her lap; she stroked his head absently,

“So… i’m guessing my granddad wasn’t kidding when he said he saw a Black Dog on the road.” she said.

Hellion licked her hand, nuzzling her palm.

“Then again, it was near churchyard…” she smiled and glanced at him, “when they moved the church and graves, you had nothing left to protect, did you?”

Hellion stared at her with soul-piercing eyes; she moved her legs down and her snuggled against her side,

“Thank you.” she whispered.

Jack stepped into the room a moment later, shaking in rage, “What have i wrought, what have i done? I’ve drawn her here, and you can’t run.”

Hellion barked, and the rocking chair Jean kept near the fire place slid across the room, knocking Jack into the seat. Blinking, Jean glanced down at him,

“And this is why i locked up your food.” she said.

Hellion whined and rolled over onto his back, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. Groaning, Jean rubbed the fearsome creatures belly,

“My goodness, for a hellhound you’re very needy.”

Hellion yipped at her, tail wagging; Jack chuckled,

“He loves you, but not as I do.” he said.

 Jean nods, “That woman… i saw her in my dream. Is she as dangerous as she seemed?”

Jack nodded, “She sought to frighten you to death, Hellion came at your struggling breath. I could not wake you, as hard as i tried. It was my fault; you could have died.”

Jean took his hand, “But i didn’t love, do not fear. I’m alive, i’m still here.”

Jack covered her hand with his, just as someone knocked on front door

“Jean?” a man called.

“Matt?” Jean answered.

Jack blinked, “The man you confused me for, why’s he here at your door??”

Jean glanced at Jack, “I’m not surprised, it’s what they do; Matt’s family runs the town… and are related to you.”

******

@terato-imagines

@trashbab

@ficklefangs

@teratotrash

@momolady

@delta-hexagon

Firstly i would like to thank everyone who reblogged, liked and commented on the last part. Makes me think i’m actually not too bad at this. aha. *wipes tears out of eyes so he can type* okay…

As he stepped past her, the smell of moist earth, fresh leaves and roasted pumpkin followed him. She closed the door and leaned against it for a moment to gather her wits.

She hadn’t heard the whirring of motors and the form he took was literally stick thin; couldn’t be a costume, wasn’t an automaton… and those smells… those couldn’t be easily faked.

She glanced over at the legend, and saw him kneeling in front of the fire; the yellowed leaves along his arms and legs fell away. An early frost, she reckoned. He gathered them up and threw them into the fireplace, before stretching out his hands and sighing.

“Man nor animal nor plant can fight, the early winter’s awful bite.” He said.

She stood in the doorway, and gasped when her dog, Hellion, trotted into the room. A black doberman/ great dane mix, the monstrous hound had frightened away many a would be robber. Jack turned as Hellion paused and after a moment’s stare, Hellion snorted and trotted towards her. Stunned, she patted the beast on the head before entering the small kitchen to feed him.

As he ate, she returned to the living room, to find Jack sitting by the fire, flipping through the book she’d dropped,

“Modern times vex me so; the art of books is all i know.” he said. His carved eyes, empty save for the flicking fire inside seemed to glance at her, and the mouth seemed to lift slightly, “though i admit my joy to find, you’ve a kind heart and a gifted mind.”

Blushing, Jean walks across the room and sits on the opposite side of the hearth, “I remember little of her life; yet i remember you and our shared strife. Can you tell me why it’s so? I’m most perplexed, I’d like to know.”

Jack pauses and carefully sets the book down, “I do not the reason how, you remember when, even now. I fear it may be another trick; the Spirit of the Wood’s mind is sick.”

Jean reaches across the hearth, and takes Jack’s hand, “Tis that why we find, our only speech is in rhyme?”

Jack smiles, “You’ve found out the same as I? Tis a bother, i cannot lie.”

Jean looks over to the side door that leads out into her garden; the illuminated moon flowers growing beside her porch gave her an idea.

“Please come with me. I have something i want you to see.” she says.

*****

Jack watches as Jean rises and walks over to the door beside her couch. The great black hound was staring at him from the kitchen, and while both knew the other would never harm Jean, his burning gaze made Jack a bit unnerved.

Rising slowly, Jack watches the hound follow him with his gaze, before snorting again and returning to his food. Walking over to where Jean stood, he took her hand, and she led him outside.

The full moon shown down on the high-walled garden, overflowing with fall vegetables, a small shed and a potting station along the same wall as her living room. A bench sat beneath an arched lattice, and as they approached, she sighed in dismay; the last bright blooms of the climbing roses had finally succumbed to the frost.

He tugged her gently towards the bench, and, helping her sit, sat down beside her. The garden’s walls were lined with the remains of climbing vegetables, another with tall shrubs, and the last, seated behind them, climbing flowers. For a few minutes, they sat as the night birds sang, some singing their farewell tunes for the year, others newly arrived for the winter.

She shivered slightly as a cold breeze blew in over the wall, and even though he placed his arm around her, he knew he couldn’t keep her warm. The black hound trotted from the house, carrying a large coat over his back and a blanket in his mouth. Jack rose slowly and took the coat from the dog, placing it around Jean’s shoulders, before taking the blanket and laying it over her lap.

Jack turned back to thank the dog, he was already back inside; he could see the great beast curled up in front of the fire,

“A great amount of work and time, have made this garden truly sublime.” he whispers, sitting back down.

Jean smiles, “I fear its not nearly as great, as in spring and summer, we were too late.”

Jack hugs her with one arm, “But still the garden lives and grows; much like its tender, a hidden rose.” He tilts her head up gently, “and i say this not to flatter; you’re beautiful, and you matter.”

****

Jean leans against Jack and closes her eyes; Jack even as a man always knew how to make her smile. He sought her spirit and laughter, her kindness and wit. Its what he always told her, and proved again and again over the years of courting.

Hellion hadn’t acted like this with other guys she’d brought home. He’d either scared them off, or treated them like a cushion. Aloof and cautious? Not before tonight. Jack also seemed wary of the black beast, and she could have sworn Hellion’s eyes changed to a dark red while it stared at Jack…

It made her wonder if she’d found the great black dog by accident, or if the hound had found her on purpose.

@terato-imagines

@momolady

@trashbab

@teratotrash

@delta-hexagon

Jean was… well not average. Voluptuous, she’d been to and from various doctors who had told her she was the right weight for her. Anything lower would probably make her sick. That didn’t stop people from saying things behind her back though.

Or worse, make her the pumpkin in the town play. She stood in a bright orange suit at the corner of the stage for almost an hour before dress rehearsal finished and she could go home.

The play told of a local legend: Jack O’Lantern, a man killed by British soldiers who then possessed a pumpkin patch and defended the town. No one really believed in the legend, but it was a fun story to tell. For most people anyway.

The way back to her small house crossed a long dry riverbed, beside which stood a long forgotten farmstead and fields. This night she saw something odd in the center of one of those fields: a scarecrow, or at least, she thought it was one. The full moon cast it in shadow, so she couldn’t make out any details. Figuring someone had put it there as a prank, possibly to scare her, she shrugged it off and continued down the road.

*****

Jack watched her walk off, before clicking his teeth and igniting the fire inside his head,

“Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack spat out the candle stick.” He whispered. Being alone for centuries had made him a bit touched in the head, but even so, his plant body reacted to seeing her all the same.

“Jean be a beauty, Jean be a catch, Jean be far from a wayward wench.”

Climbing down from the scarecrow post, his long limbs bending and creaking from how long he’d stood there, Jack tapped his long slender finger against his lower jaw, the jagged mouth of a carved pumpkin.

“Jack be wishin’ for the body of a man, so he could win that kind girl’s hand.”

He made a lot of wishes: to undo his exchange with that spirit in the wood, to die a mortal man again and stay dead instead of returning as this… thing. But this time was a little different. He knew her; long ago, when he was a man, he’d fallen for a poor man’s daughter. He’d been gentlemanly, courteous, so when she reciprocated, he was more than grateful. Sadly, it wasn’t to be.

He shook himself and stalked off towards her home.

“Jean be beautiful, Jean be kind, Jack be wishing she was once more mine.” He whispered.

****

Jean scrubbed off the orange face paint and washed out the orange hair dye they’d sprayed on her. Her light brown hair matched with heavily freckled face shown back at her. She’d tried to rid herself of the freckles, but it never worked. Sighing, she ran a bath for herself, and grabbed a favorite book from the shelf, when a knock at the door gave her pause.

“Who’s there?” she asked.

“A nightly visitor you have not to fear, just want to know the way from here.” Came the answer.

Blinking she scowled, “Matt what are you doing here?”

A low chuckle, “Tis not this Matt you speak of, but a different man you once loved.”

The book fell from her hands, No… it… it couldn’t be… I never told anyone about those dreams…

A rhyming scarecrow formed from a dead man. A young woman drowned by the men who’d killed the man. Even now those dreams haunted her, so vivid were they. More memory than fantasy, she’d always thought.

“If this is him, tell me thus; what did they do to us?” she asked.

A rustling outside the door made her step back, “Killed me dead where we slept, drowned you for having wept. In angry rage i came back, to exact revenge for the trap. I speak this true and would like to see; doth thouist remember me?”

She’d never told anyone about the dreams, or her outrage at how the history books said Jack’s future wife died. In fact, no one had ever mentioned that her death could be anything but a suicide.

Jean walked across the room slowly and opened the door; a wicked carved pumpkin head greeted her, above a thin body made of vines, leaves and the frame of her past self’s scarecrow. The look on that face was one of concern, despite the flames that lit its countenance.

“I do remember thee, but very faintly. Perhaps you should come inside, and remind me of how we were before we died.” she said.

The mouth grinned, and with a bow, he entered, “I would like that yes in deed; i am here, shall we proceed?”

*****

@momolady

@terato-imagines

@teratotrash

@ficklefangs

@trashbab

@delta-hexagon