by Carver Pike
The door opened and closed with a THWACK and Dawn ran. She ran deeper into the barn, farther from the entrance and therefore farther from the exit. She had no plans. She ran blindly to what she thought was in the opposite direction of danger.
She hid in one of the stables, where her favorite horse once lived. He was long gone. But her instincts led her there, to the one place familiar to her. She closed the metal gate quietly, praying it wouldn’t squeak. She didn’t want the thing to find her.
But then it did.
This time the snapping sound came from behind her, in the stall. She closed her eyes and fought back the urge to pee when she heard it.
“Shh,” something said. “Coooooome heeeeere.”
She whipped her head around and leaned back against the wall in the corner. Hidden in the shadow of the stall, was a strange figure. It was the outline of a man, but as Dawn crept closer, she saw that it was one of the scarecrows from the field. It was bound tightly to a post, tied to it around the waist, nailed to it through the shoulder areas. It was missing half its clothes and mostly looked like a jumbled up hay figure. It was ugly.
The head drooped down and its hat hung loosely atop its head, threatening to fall off at any moment. That haunting face of old worn-out leather, dark sockets where its eyes should be, and stitched up mouth, much like the one planted so close to her house.
Where the body looked like a pulled loose hay doll, the head and face looked oddly like a man. A creepy old man who probably ate little girls.
She hadn’t realized she was so close to its face, her own eyes trying to see deep into the sockets, examining it with more bravery than she’d ever possessed, when it moved.
The head jerked upright.
The lifeless eyes stared straight into hers.
The lips pulled at the stitching, trying to rip themselves free.
She fell back onto her butt and scooted away from it.
The scarecrow jerked back and forth, wobbling on its post, and fell over onto its side. Its head bounced off the hard dirt floor.
She screamed.
It growled.
“Gooooo,” she heard through its pried open mouth, its voice escaping with a breath of air through the quarter inch gap between the lips.
Now, as Dawn stood at the entrance to the barn, trying to make sense of a strange and haunting memory, she heard the snapping sound again. It came from the back of the barn, back where her favorite horse used to live, back where she’d once been scared so badly she didn’t leave her house for weeks.
Dawn turned and ran out of the barn, escaping into the cool evening air. The storm finally came to life and rain pounded down against her skin. She fell back onto the grass where she sat staring at the barn door, happy to be out of the dark space, seemingly unaware of the drenched state she was in.
The rain felt good. She felt alive.
As the sky wept, she did too.
***
Anders didn’t show up that evening. She’d anxiously awaited his arrival on the living room couch, reading her book, getting ready for him, at right around the same time he’d stopped by the night before.
Yet, he never came.
To say she was disappointed would be an understatement. She was crushed. She felt used. Anders had come, came, and went. She doubted she’d ever see him again. She imagined bumping into him with his buddies at the bowling alley where they’d all laugh and lift their beer bottles at her, acknowledging the piece of ass their friend had conquered.
Yet, he hadn’t actually conquered her, unless in these parts going down on a girl was the coveted prize. She doubted it. Still, he’d taken advantage of her.
Yes, she’d allowed herself to become THAT girl. The single mature woman who’d fucked the younger stud. He had bragging rights. If she had someone to brag to she realized she might do the same. She’d definitely tell Daisy about it whenever she arrived.
She ate a delicious meal for two, all alone, by Kindle light. Even the words of the novella had little effect on her. Depression had already set in. She was a floozy.
***
It was nearly one o’clock in the morning when Dawn finally dragged herself away from the front door and up to her bed. It took a while to fall asleep as every sound she heard pulled at her heartstrings and she thought she might be surprised by her knight in slacks and plaid.
That combined with the memory from earlier that day still haunted her. Thinking back now, she couldn’t remember all the details the way she did in the barn. It’s like her mind had a way of wiping the slate clean every time something traumatic happened. She had an automatic reset button, a default setting that allowed her to forget anything that bothered her. Or at least set aside traces of it.
In the dark of her bedroom, she did remember the snapping of the bones and glowing red eyes. She remembered something about being a kid and seeing something in the barn. She almost considered getting up and putting on clothes, but one of the pleasures of being alone, was the convenience of being able to sleep naked. She loved the feel of her bare bottom and legs against the cool cotton sheet. She liked the way the comforter tickled her nipples each time she moved. It was wonderful.
It was those comforts that calmed her nerves and helped her drift off to sleep.
She wasn’t sure what time it was when she woke. The room was dark but the moon shining in through the curtainless window helped with her night vision. She had her head still resting on her pillow when she saw movement right in front of her.
Through sleepy eyes and the darkness of the room she somehow noticed something darker than the rest was right before her eyes.
Legs.
Thighs.
Something stood no farther than a foot in front of her face. It was a body, the silhouette of someone standing over her, watching her sleep, silent in the stillness of the night.
Mama has come to punish me for leaving her.
The scarecrow has come to visit.
Her throat swelled and she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to talk but she couldn’t speak. The words were lodged in her throat. She couldn’t call out for help. She couldn’t get up and run. All she could do was lie there and stare at the legs. She couldn’t bring herself to look higher.
She imagined her mother’s angry face an inch from hers, grinning a twisted, evil smile. Or the face of the scarecrow, its stitched lips and fiery eyes urging her to look up.
Finally, she found the ability to stretch one arm out to the nightstand, where she quietly, so slowly and silently that she hardly believed she was moving at all, turned the knob on the lamp.
She squinted in the sudden bright light and held her hands up, ready to claw out like an animal. She swung her arms around to protect herself from whatever attack was coming, but instead her balled up fist struck naked flesh. It was Anders.
She gasped and stared up at him in wide-eyed horror.
“What are you doing here?” she yelled.
He didn’t answer. He simply stood over her, stark naked, staring down at her. His large, muscular thighs and giant cock were so close to her face that she actually had to back up a foot to take him all in.
His stomach was ripped with muscle and his chest was solid. He looked so good that he looked fake, like he belonged in a wax museum. She was reminded of Arnold Schwarzenegger in The Terminator. She thought if someone stabbed a knife into his skin, the blade would break and clang to the floor.
Even his neck was thick.
She felt her lips purse as she looked up at his rain dampened hair. It was messy and water dripped from slick tangles. She traced the outline of his shoulders, down to his muscular forearms and his bulging legs, then glanced over at his cock. She followed the length of him down to the beautiful tip of his dick. The urge to lean forward and scoop it up in her mouth was overwhelming.
She wished he would say something. Anything. Maybe that he missed her, or that he’d thought about her all day, or that he was going to completely ravage her tonight. Yet, as much a
s she wanted him to speak, she found the silence extremely erotic. It was like he was saying, “I’m here. Because I want you. And I’ll take you.”
Her blanket moved down her body so calmly that she almost didn’t realize she was pulling it down herself. The cool air licked at her nipples and they hardened under Anders’ gaze. Her feet found the bunched up blanket and forced it down to the foot of the bed. She opened her legs ever so slightly and felt the crisp coolness of the room hit the heat of her already dampening pussy.
She was ready for him. Finally, he smiled.
Then she had him in her hand, softly cupping his balls and bunching them up around the base of his cock as she picked up the heaviness of him and held him there for a moment. Her left hand snaked around and cupped the back of his ass where she pulled, leading him by his dick, as she welcomed him into bed with her.
The grace at which he moved in between her legs was like a skilled dancer, a sexual choreographer making sure they didn’t miss a beat.
Anders put each of his hands down on the bed, to both sides of her shoulders, and she gripped his bulging triceps, holding onto his arms, preparing herself for the delicious pain she craved so badly. Her feet came up around his ass where she hooked her heels and waited. His eyes locked on hers and the look of determination that came over his face was exciting.
The moment seemed to linger on forever.
Then, with nothing more than a slow and steady lean of his hips, she felt his head touch her lips. Her soaked pussy welcomed him, suctioning around him, preparing to take him. Then he thrusted forward and plunged deep into her. Her eyes slammed shut, her teeth gritted, and she groaned through the initial wave of pain.
He pulled out and as his cock escaped her, she felt herself ripping slightly. His cock was too fat for her.
Then, each inch of his cock slid into her at what felt like a minute at a time, slowly sinking into her as far as it could go, until she felt the squish of his balls against her tight asshole. She howled as he stayed deep inside her, planted there, pulsating inside her tight twat. The pain was immense.
As he pulled out, a grin formed on her lips. The pain had subsided and now it was pure pleasure.
Anders fucked her so good, so hard, and so deep that the night became a blur. As if in a drunken or high sort of trance, reality and fantasy blended together and she couldn’t control her thoughts. She saw her man on top, driving into her.
She felt his rough hand on her thigh, forcing her legs open wider.
She came and cried out in ecstasy. Then the world went black.
When she came to, her body was still going on its own. She gripped the headboard and put her legs over his shoulders. His cock drove into her hard, smashing into her with each down stroke. Lightning crashed with each thrust and she screamed out with the rumbling of the thunder.
She came again and darkness enveloped her.
He kept fucking, never losing momentum. He never tired.
She knew they rolled because she felt it. She didn’t see it.
The feeling of coming came over her again, even with her eyes closed.
At one point she was on top. She tried to watch his facial expressions but it felt so good that she ended up spending most of her time looking at the ceiling. Her body lifted and fell, as she skewered herself on his cock, enjoying the sting of her stretching pussy around the width of him. It was so slick. So wet. It hurt so bad and felt so good at the same time.
She came again.
The world went black.
She remembered standing. He’d moved her to the window where he’d planted her hands against the window frame. She was bent slightly at the waist, her face sticking through the open window, her tits mashed against the cold metal rail, and he was behind her, driving into her, coating his cock with her juices as he kept going and going and going.
His seed ran through her, drenching her insides, and never seemed to stop spurting. The heat of his sperm lit her up inside like someone had tossed a match on gasoline. It burned but she realized she was laughing, no, she was cackling. The sound coming from her own mouth didn’t sound like her. But she liked it. She laughed harder and backed into him, pulling the come from his cock, forcing it into her. She couldn’t get enough.
He lifted a hand from the window frame and pointed out the window, still thrusting into her from behind.
“Look at them,” he said and she couldn’t be sure because the whole night was a mixture of strange thoughts and feelings, but those might have been his first words since entering her room.
“Look…at….who?” she asked, throwing words out of her mouth each time she backed into him.
“All of them!” he yelled as he shoved into her harder than he ever had before.
She nearly passed out again. Her head fell and hung lazily out the window, half in and half out of consciousness. She saw lights and wasn’t sure if they were imaginary. No, they weren’t imaginary. At least she didn’t think so.
Figures stood at the edge of the corn, dark figures. They looked like men. Each held a torch in his outstretched hand. Each stared up at them, watching them fuck as if they’d been lucky enough to score front row seats at an important show or concert.
“They are here for you,” he said.
She knew she should feel fear, but she couldn’t. She didn’t feel much of anything. She just wanted him to keep fucking her. She thought she could possibly go on like this forever.
And she couldn’t stop grinning.
Chapter 4
“Which of our bands do you think will be considered classic rock one day?” Harvey asked.
Daisy hated when he got high and asked stupid questions. She’d only brought him along because she thought he might like her sister. He was, after all, older than both she and her boyfriend, Matt. Matt wasn’t her boyfriend, she really should stop considering him that, even if it was only in her head. The thought of being committed to one person freaked her out.
Her mom hadn’t been committed. Neither had her dad. Dawn had tried it and it didn’t work out. Sex was better when fresh and new and so little arguing came with moving on. Whenever she felt stagnant and like she was getting too comfortable with a guy, she knew it was time to do something stupid and end it quickly. Usually that involved sleeping with another guy and getting caught. She was the queen of fucking things up.
The problem she now faced was what to do about Matt. She actually liked him and had stayed with him much longer than any other guy. That was bad. It needed to end soon, especially since she kept talking about him in the boyfriend sense. A boyfriend could lead to a fiancé and a fiancé could lead to marriage. She would NEVER get married. She’d seen the devastation it caused and knew how it could destroy the fragile minds of children.
She could imagine being a mother someday, but she’d rather be a single mother who made sure her child understood that he or she didn’t need a second parent. She’d learned to live with one, and he was barely even there, so her kid would be fine not having to depend on two people to be there.
“Maroon 5!” Matt said.
Daisy whipped her head to the left to stare at her…her Matt…as he kept the wheel straight down the long stretch of Nebraska highway. She loved his bad boy look. Tips of a tattoo flared out of the collar of his blue T-shirt. The rest of the giant raven’s feathers appeared out of the sleeve. His blond hair was slicked back and shaved on both sides, giving him a long haired top with close-cropped sides. He looked best during sex when his hair was sweaty and hung loose in front of his face.
“I was kidding,” he added. “But in all reality, they’re pretty fucking popular, babe. Not my kind of music but everyone else loves ‘em.”
She had to think about Harvey’s question. The slightly older man, older meaning about forty, was Matt’s coworker at their furniture reupholstering job. He had the look of a hardened man who’d found a peace with himself. Crow’s feet had already formed at the corners of his eyes and he smoked cigarettes to calm his nerves. He’
d never admit it was because he was addicted, much like the people who say they only smoke when they drink.
“You’re a fucking dork,” Daisy said.
Daisy had quit smoking years ago when she got pregnant. She’d lost the baby but had decided it was best to kick the habit. Now, as she stared up into the visor mirror at her short, jet black hair, and pierced nose, she felt somewhat obligated to diss Matt for his silly comment about music. She had built up a reputation as a hard rock kind of chick, but lately every time she stared in the mirror she wondered what it was all for. She’d partied so hard over the past ten years or so that she was exhausted. She felt worn-out deep down in her bones.
