The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

From CryingMist!
02:55 Jul 30 2014
Times Read: 634

Not only do I want to dance when I hear it, but I also like the artistic techno imagery.

Funny, as I usually think Britney Spears is so-so. lol

Carmen Amaya
05:26 Jul 19 2014
Times Read: 720

I've always loved flamenco dance, and had 2-3 dance lessons eons ago.

While there are many famous and fabulous dancers, the top performer for me is the legendary Carmen Amaya, who was at the height of her career in the 1930's.

Um...while you're at it - LADIES (ok - some guys too) - check out the Joaquin Cortes clip...

Blood For Dracula.
07:46 Jul 18 2014
Times Read: 741

This made me howl. And it's still entertaining in this condensed version:

Dîner à l'aube *
03:08 Jul 13 2014
Times Read: 825

The three women at the bar stared at him as he approached. Each one put forth her best sexpot look, complete with pouty mouth. He thought - Oh look. Three of them. Like some sort of perverted Holy Trinity. Stupid bitches. He fought to keep from laughing out loud.

There was one free stool at the opposite end of the bar, so he took it. He felt their eyes on him, so he shifted a little so that they could get a good three quarter view of his face. A lock of his shoulder-length black hair fell over one eye. He tossed it back as he tossed back his first tequila shot. Then he made a point of ignoring them completely.

A zydeco band returned to the bar’s small stage to perform. Many of the patrons paired up to dance. He felt a dozen pairs of female eyes on him, so he made sure to remain on his stool, with his back facing the dance floor. He knew that in a matter of seconds, he’d be bombarded with dance requests. He began the countdown under his breath. “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four,”…

“Excuse me” quipped a high-pitched feminine voice, which he immediately hated. He plastered a dazzling fake smile on his face, then slowly swung around on the bar stool. “Excuse me…would you like to dance?” It was the blonde one from the Trinity. He noticed another woman about a few feet behind her, who was obviously coming over for a dance as well. The blonde beat her to him, and she didn’t look too happy as she returned to her table. He wanted to laugh again.

“Pardon me, cher?” he said, with his Cajun accent. He had a deep husky voice that made women melt. The blonde’s face reddened as she asked him for a dance again. He loved to make them squirm. It was like a cat playing with a mouse before he killed and ate it. He smiled again then said “Why - of course.” He stood up and put a strong arm possessively around her waist. He felt the blonde’s body quiver beneath his touch. As the band played on, he swung the blonde around him at arm’s length, alternately pulling her flush against him so that she could feel the hardness of his body underneath his shirt and jeans.

“Wow! You are really a great dancer…” she said breathlessly as he swung her around. He formed a small smile on his perfectly molded lips. “Thank you, cher. So are you.”

She was actually a horrible dancer, as she kept stepping on his new alligator skin boots. The dance couldn’t end soon enough for him, even though he did like the feel of her breasts on him. Soft. She was too thin for his taste, but sometimes, he made do with the bony ones if nothing plusher was available. But the night was young; her friends and some of the other women in the bar were more to his liking for what he had in mind. Dumb like her, but with more meat on their bones.

When the dance was over, he escorted her back to her friends at the bar. They practically begged him to join their little group; they already had a shot of tequila waiting for him. How could he refuse?

He took turns flattering the three of them. They giggled, tossed hair, and got on his nerves. After his seventh or eighth shot, he decided that he would have one of the Holy Trinity, if not all three. He knew that he wouldn’t have to push hard to get all three of them into having an orgy with him. Hell - they’d be fighting each other to get inside of his pants. So, he worked his demonic charm on all three of them. He unbuttoned a few more of the buttons on his shirt, to reveal his chest. Just enough to let a bit of hair peek out. “It is hot in here, isn’t it?” he asked, to no one in particular. He fanned himself with his shirt. Like a snake, he slid his body into their midst, and leaned his back up against the bar. He raised his hands to push back his hair, making sure to flex his biceps a little. He looked over their heads, and noticed several women staring at him with their mouths open…just like the three dingbats directly in front of him. He actually laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?” asked the one with the brown bobbed haircut and the big tits. “Oh cher - I’m just having too much fun with you lovely ladies.” He gave her a sultry look with his long-lashed peridot-colored eyes, and slowly licked his perfect lips. She returned his gaze with a nervous laugh of her own. He turned towards the light-skinned black one with the freckles, looked her up and down – then he settled his gaze on her big round ass, grinning the whole time. Juicy, he thought. He fell back against the bar, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. He let out a deep moan, which gave the Holy Trinity a start. He could smell their desire. And they definitely felt his. Satisfaction was coming. His skin tingled. These three bitches are creaming their jeans about now, he thought.

After the zydeco band performed a few more songs, they exited the stage for another break. He noticed that they appeared to be getting paid in drinks, as they drank a lot. He snickered. A man went over to an old jukebox in the corner, and put a few quarters in. An old techno tune blasted from it - it was a club hit from the early eighties – I’m Ready. Yes, he thought… I am ready. He began to sway to the music. The Holy Trinity joined him with gyrating movements, closing in on him to keep other women out. They marked him as their property. If they only knew. He was no one’s property - that was for damn sure. Not anymore, he thought wistfully. There was a time when he had a mate: beautiful, intelligent, and fearless…he immediately cleared his mind and forced himself back into the present. No use crying over what couldn’t be undone, he thought. He plastered another fake smile on his face and concentrated on the task at hand.

And then reality hit him. There was no way in hell that he would be able to get away with taking all three of them. It was fun baiting them, but he knew that he had to take his leave. Taking all or even one of them was too risky. Too many people saw him with the Trinity. He wasn’t a forgettable face in the crowd – he was quite the opposite. He’d have to take his hunt elsewhere.

“Ladies – I’m afraid that I must take my leave. I do appreciate your company and the tequila shots. I owe all three of you real soon.” He left a fifty dollar bill on the bar for them. “Must you leave so soon?” asked the blonde. He could have sworn that he saw tears welling up in her big vacant blue eyes. “Yes. I lost track of the time, and I need to be up early for work” Inwardly, he laughed at their disappointment. He kissed each of them on the cheek, then sauntered out of the bar. He felt several pairs of disappointed eyes on his retreating figure - plus a few daggers in his back. It was all so gratifying.



When he got into his truck, he lit a cigarette, and inhaled deeply from it. His skin tingled and his cock was getting hard. He had to fuck, and he had to feed. But he had patience. Dinner always had a way of being delivered. He watched the dark hairs on the back of his hands thicken and grow out a little. He rested his feverish forehead on the steering wheel, and began the countdown. “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six,”… He raised his head up from the steering column to find a woman standing in front of the truck. It was the one who missed out on getting a dance from him earlier in the evening. He took one last drag from the cigarette, then flicked it out of the opened window, staring at her the whole time, without saying a word. Sometimes, his charming veneer slowly peeled back, to be replace by a more sinister expression. Some women loved that aspect of him as well, and hell - he still looked damn good. The woman appeared apprehensive for a moment…should she go to him or run? Instinct told her to run, but lust and stupidity made her stay.

No one else was around. And he always made a habit of parking at a distance of any establishment he went to. He gave her an enticing smile, realizing that she must have followed him.

He stuck his head out. “Can I help you with something, cher?” He finally asked. He ran a hand through his hair and slowly licked his lips. The woman walked up to the window. “Um…um…this is really awkward…” she stammered. “What’s wrong, ma belle?” he cooed. He liked her look. She had a pretty face, with big brown eyes like a doe. Big tits. A big round ass. Juicy. She remained rooted to the ground, staring at him. “Cher - why don’t you come have a seat and talk for a bit, if it will help” he offered. He leaned over and opened the door. She walked around the front of the truck, and climbed in. The dumb slut. He then realized that he really shouldn’t be so hard on dumb sluts, as they are what kept him alive and kicking. Alive and fucking. He chuckled under his breath.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, with a stupid expression on her face, as she turned to face him. He turned his devastatingly handsome face towards her, and replied “Oh - nothing. Excuse me. I didn’t mean to be rude” He found her staring at his chest, as his shirt was halfway undone. “Too hairy for your liking?” he asked, as he began to button it close. The woman’s face colored. “Um…Um. No. I like hairy.” He smiled. Of course you do, he thought. She stared at the buttoned shirt, then glanced up into his light green eyes. He raised his left hand and lightly brushed his knuckles across her right cheek. She was trembling. She wanted that shirt off.

“Unbutton it, if you want” he stated, as he sat back. The woman leaned in, and slowly began to free him from his shirt. Her hands were trembling. When she got to the last button, he grasped her hands in both of his, and kissed her fingers, making sure that his eyes were closed. When he let them flutter open, he pulled her closer and whispered “Kiss me.” Her huge breasts press against his bare chest. The last undone button of his shirt popped off with their movements. He held her wrists so that her hands cupped his jawline. He kissed her again, with more intensity. Right when he had her panting and in an awkward position in the front seat, he released her suddenly, and told her to go.

“I’m sorry. Sometimes I don’t control myself as I should. Maybe you should go. I don’t force women…”

“No!” she whined, which made him wince. He hated whining. “I want to stay. You’re not forcing me. I want this…” Her big doe eyes literally brimmed with tears. He had to stifle the cruel laugh that almost escaped past his lips. He looked at his watch, as if he suddenly had somewhere else to be; it was almost four in the morning. “Well…if you are sure, cher…”

“I’m sure” she said. He gave her a dazzling smile, then replied “You have made me so happy. I was hoping that you wouldn’t leave me.”

He reached for something under his seat. For a spit second, the woman froze. When he pulled out a folded blanket, she sighed with relief. He grinned at her and said “We will be much more comfortable in the grass, near those trees.” He nodded towards the small wooded area about fifty feet from his truck.

“How romantic. That is so much better than doing it in the truck” she said. Yes - he thought - it would be more romantic. He rolled his eyes when she wasn’t looking.

They walked a short distance to a perfect spot. He spread the blanket on the ground, then sat down. He held his hand out to her, and she placed her hand in his. When she sat down, he began to kiss her in earnest. He ripped her shirt front, then nuzzled his face in her huge breasts. ”Hey! This is a new blouse!” she said, angrily. He stopped kissing her, and looked up into her face. Breathing heavily, he said “I’ll buy you a new one. I have lots of money.” She thought about that for a moment, then smiled. “Oh - okay. You’re gorgeous and rich. I like!” She pulled his head back to her chest. Fucking whore, he thought, as he began to flicker his tongue over her nipples.

He yanked her pants down in one clean movement, taking less than a minute to get her feet free. He then stood up to remove his own clothing. When he sat down to pull off his boots, the woman begged him to keep them on. He laughed, thinking - whatever floats your boat, honey. “Your wish is my command, cher” he said.

“You sure are hairy” she purred, as she stroked his thighs. She climbed on top of him and immediately began to perform orally on him. He stopped her and told her that it would be his pleasure to perform on her. She giggled, and was immediately on her back, with her legs spread wide. “Mmmmmm” he murmured as he went down. She moaned, gasped, and cried out, as cunts usually do. Her hands dug into his hair as she almost reached her peak. When she brought her hands to the nape of his neck, she felt the silky smoothness of…fur? She opened her eyes and looked down. For a split second, she caught a pair of glowing yellow eyes looking up at her. A huge hairy hand clamped over her face, blocking her vision. She felt a sharp piercing pain through her vaginal lips. “Oh - do stop thrashing about, cher. You did want me to eat you, after all” he growled, from in-between her thighs.

She tried to scream and wriggle herself free, but of course, she was no match for the huge hairy beast that now lay on top of her. It repeated its mantra in its brain: Fuck her hard. Kill her. Eat her.

And that is exactly what he did.









© MFH 2014









* (This story is dedicated to AngelicaRose, as she helped me get my shit together when we discussed the craft of writing. And Angelica - if this is not to your taste, I do apologize. In any case, welcome to the bizarro world which is my mind)

The Birth of a Vampire.
03:23 Jul 09 2014
Times Read: 859

His eyes slowly open, and he groaned. I’m still alive - he thought, as tears rolled down his cheeks. He began to pray, begging his God to release him from his agony. Immediately feeling contrite, he asked forgiveness for his weakness. His suffering was nothing compared to the suffering of his Lord, even though the painful burning sensation throughout his body was more than he could bear.

When he tried to lift his head, the arrow in the side of his neck pulled at his flesh. “Aaaaah…” he gasped, as he let his head fall forward. He closed his eyes as blackness overcame him.

The Emperor raised the man’s head by his hair, ignoring the renewed pain he inflicted upon him. “I told you that you would pay for your treason” he whispered. He caressed the dying man’s face with his free hand. He swept his thumb across the man’s lips, savoring the soft texture. As he had an urge to kiss those lips, he slapped the man instead. The man whimpered in pain. The Emperor laughed. He jerked the man’s head up and stared into his young face. He wanted to remember everything about it: the lips, high cheekbones, straight nose, cleft chin, and most of all – the large dark silvery grey eyes fringed with long dark lashes. He dug both of his hands into the man’s short thick brown hair. “Your face is too pretty for the army anyway” he spat out, releasing the man’s head. The Emperor stepped back to take a last look at the young man tied to the post. He unconsciously licked his lips as his eyes swept down the length of the youthful muscular body, which was nude…and studded with over a dozen arrows. He felt a pull in his groin, and did nothing to shield the erection that rose underneath his silk toga. He licked his lips again as he gazed at the rivulets of blood that slowly ran together to form a pool at the dying man’s bare feet.

“Make sure that no one comes near the criminal” he commanded the sentries. The Emperor then took his leave with his Praetorian Guard in tow.



When the young man came to a second time, it was dusk. He cursed under his breath. “Please kill me…please” he begged, to no one in particular. The arrows in his torso renewed their sting, yet his eyes were too dry to release anymore tears. His upraised arms and bound legs were numb. One of the sentries rose from the log he sat on to inspect the dying man. He was eating an apple. “You still alive, eh? You are one tough bastard.” He shoved the remainder of the apple into the man’s mouth, then went back to his log. His companions laughed, as they huddled back around their campfire. The young man thought - why didn’t the archers strike him in the heart? Why couldn’t he just die? He worked the apple core from his mouth, letting it drop into the slowly expanding pool of blood beneath his feet.



When he opened his eyes for the third time, the sky was a deep blue-black. His vision was beginning to fail him. The pain in his body went from sharp and burning to dull and throbbing.

“Ah – this is it. Thank you, my Lord. Take me into Your arms, I beg you” he mumbled. As he began to nod off, waiting for death to release him, he heard the rustle of fabric. Someone was approaching. Ignoring the pain in his neck from the arrow, he slowly raised his head to see the figure of a woman swathed in a costly palla emerge from the darkness.

“My Lady Irene?” he croaked. He quickly looked around for the sentries, but only saw the outline of the woman. The dying embers of the campfire and the moon were the only sources of light. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw the sentries lying about in the dirt. Many of them were naked and bloody. “The sentries…” he began…”are dead” came the interrupted response. The young man swallowed hard. “Are you here to take my life as well? Will you take my body away, my Lady?” His voice was raspy. Soon - he thought – soon, I will leave this wretched existence.

“As a matter of fact - I am” came the reply. The woman’s voice was unfamiliar; it was not the voice of Lady Irene. The man assumed that his distorted hearing was a further indication of his impending death.

He felt the ropes being cut away; when his body crumpled forward, he was caught by two men who wore long black cloaks. The hoods they wore concealed their faces. He hadn’t notice their approach at all. As he was nearing death, there was a great deal that he could not hear, see, nor understand. But soon, he would join his brethren in Heaven. He began to whisper The Lord’s Prayer repeatedly, with joy in his still beating heart.

The two hooded figures carefully carried the young man to a patch of grass, where they gently laid him upon a long length of clean linen. When they - and the woman - suddenly began to tear the arrows from his body, the dying man bolted upright. His mouth flew open with a sudden intake of breath. The pain was unbearable. As each arrow was unceremoniously ripped from his flesh, the pain mounted and spread throughout his body. He began to hyperventilate, as the blood from his wounds flowed anew. “Whyyyy?” he bellowed, before losing consciousness.



The man reawakened with a feeling of warmth upon his skin. He blinked and tried to squeeze tears from his dry eyes. He found himself lying on a low pallet inside of a room, in front of a blazing hearth. Am I not yet dead? he wondered. He sat up slowly, and found that he felt no pain. He looked down at his nakedness. While there were signs of injuries, his wounds were closed. His body was smeared with dried blood, as if he were bathed in it. “Has the Lord seen fit to let me live?” he asked out loud, in amazement.

“No. That would be I who deemed that you live” came the woman’s voice from behind him. The man spun around on his cot to see a radiantly beautiful woman gazing down on him. Their eyes locked. He felt lost in the depths of the woman’s glittering green eyes. The connection was only broken when she finally spoke. “You have amazing eyes. And I’ve never seen such a color before.” Her eyes then travelled along the length of his nakedness. A small smile formed upon her perfect lips. The man’s eyes remained locked on her face as he pulled the linen cloth around his body. His modesty made her laugh. “I think that it is too late for that, as everyone in the square has seen every inch of you.” She came around the pallet and sat next to him. “How do you feel?” She smelled like crushed rose petals.

The man was at a loss for words. Almost a day ago, he was charged with treason and shot full of arrows. As he suffered and prayed for death, a strange woman he never met came to his rescue. He came to the conclusion that the hand of God healed him; he had a purpose in life, and he would serve The Lord for the rest of his days. He began to recite The Lord’s prayer under his breath.

‘Well – not quite, handsome one. The hand of God did not heal you. That was my doing. While you are free to pray to this god of yours, you will serve me.”

The man leaped from the pallet, wrapping the length of linen around his body. “How do you know what I think?” he said, in disbelief. “Who are you?”

The woman chuckled under her breath. “There will be time for explanations later. You need to lie down so that I may complete the healing process.”

“I will not be bewitched” he said, as he backed away from her. The woman grew impatient. “You are already bewitched” she hissed. “Do not make me force you” she said, menacingly. The two hooded men emerged from a corner of the room. “You should obey Her Ladyship” one uttered.

“Sebastianus - come. Sit.” The woman held her arms out before her. The young man found himself mesmerized by her lovely face. Her hair shimmered like dark copper in the firelight. He felt his feet move back towards the pallet, even as he shook his head. How does she know my name? He wondered. When she took him into her embrace, he felt such a feeling of relief and warmth that he almost swooned. The linen he clung to cascaded to his ankles as his hands fell limply to his sides.

The woman gently pushed him down on the pallet. Sebastianus remained prone as the two hooded figures approached them. One pushed back his hood, and Sebastianus recognized him immediately. “Marcus?” he wondered out loud. “How are you here? You are dead!” The one called Marcus gazed upon Sebastianus with dark unreadable eyes. “As I’m here standing before you, it is obvious that I am not dead” came the reply. Sebastianus was at a loss for words. He looked into the woman’s face and stammered “But…but I saw Marcus die with my own eyes on the battlefield!” The woman stroked his brow. “When I came to you, you were as Marcus was. Not quite dead. I saved you both from the precipice of Hades.” The woman pulled a dagger from the folds of her gown. “And now, I must complete your process.” She sliced a deep cut into the palm of her left hand. As the blood pooled in her palm, she brought her hand to Sebastianus’s lips. “Drink” she commanded.

The realization of what they were was like a slap in his face. Sebastianus vehemently shook his head, and tried to rise. “Striges!” he spat out. The two men held him down easily. The woman appeared to enjoy Sebastianus’s struggles, as she stood by for some time watching his contorted movements. Finally, the woman clamped her bleeding palm over his mouth. The blood trickled down his throat. Sebastianus choked, then swallowed with a natural reflex. He felt a sudden rush of heat throughout his body. There was a tingling sensation upon his skin - in his skin. Marcus - and the other man, who pushed back his hood to reveal the blonde countenance of a German – bit their wrists with elongated teeth. They placed their fresh wounds over Sebastianus’s torso, and allowed the blood to drip. As their blood splattered on Sebastianus’s chest, the woman gently massaged it into his freshly healed wounds. The arrow holes faded away to reveal unblemished skin. The two male Striges retreated back into the darkness, leaving the woman massaging Sebastianus’s body. Her fingers deftly worked their way from his scalp to the soles of his feet. Sebastianus’s eyes rolled back with how wonderful they felt; the burning sensation from her fingers was a far cry from that of the arrows. He became aroused long before her hands finally rested upon his throbbing manhood. “Please…” he gasped.

The woman chuckled, then stood up. Sebastianus’s eyes fluttered open. “No…please – don’t go…” he pleaded. He was burning with need. The woman burned with a need as well. She slowly removed the fibulae from her stola, letting the fabric fall to the floor. Sebastianus sat up and stared at the beautiful naked woman before him. The pull at his groin was painful. But he savored the pain as his desire swelled for the female vampire.

She straddled him, and begin to kiss him passionately. Her tongue darted in and out of his willing mouth. “I must be dreaming…” he whispered, as he parted his thighs. The woman sat up and bit her wrist. “Drink some more” she commanded. He felt his vigor growing as he sipped from her. Every muscle in his body vibrated. What is she doing to me? He wondered. He felt strength and weakness at the same time.

“I’m giving you eternal life” she said, as she mounted him, sinking her sharp teeth into the throbbing vein on the side of his neck.

Sebastianus’s back arched with intense desire. He threw his head back to allow her easier access, as he thrust his hips up to lose himself inside of her. He was hers completely. He felt his fangs rip though his gums and puncture his lips. Tasting his own blood, he let out a guttural, almost animalistic cry as he climaxed. Through his lashes, he saw two pairs of glowing eyes staring at him from the darkness, before he lost consciousness.

© MFH 2014

The Sacred Stone.
06:30 Jul 07 2014
Times Read: 909






I hate flying. I really hate when I start to hyperventilate due to said flying. During the long flight from JFK to Heathrow, I squeezed Andrew’s arm in a tight grip. He continually had to pry my fingers off of him.

“Love - you are cutting off my circulation” he chided, while stroking my cheek. “Breathe. We’re almost there.”

When we finally arrived at the airport, I practically ran off of the plane. I had to take deep breaths and focused my attention on the activity around me. I was finally standing on the ground and not up in the goddamn sky. Hallelujah. I was so busy wandering about and people-watching that it took me awhile to notice Andrew waving at me from the curb. He and the cabdriver had already placed our bags into the trunk.

“Mona - let’s go!” He laughed, shaking his head.

We arrived at the train station and boarded the train to Bristol. I was finally able to relax and enjoy the view of the English countryside. At some point, the endless landscape of green hills, sheep, and cows lulled me to sleep…



“Mona, love - wake up” Andrew whispered. “We’re here.” I sleepily stumbled from the train car, dragging a piece of wheeled luggage behind me.

Andrew’s parents met us at the station. They were a polite reserved couple, who spoke very little. It felt somewhat awkward, as I was use to the boisterousness of my family. I relied on Andrew to do most of the talking, but once he got inside of the family car, he didn’t speak much either. I thought – this is a fun bunch. Then I wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that I wasn’t white. On several occasions, Andrew had assured me that his family was very ‘progressive’. Really? I figured that I’d have to make that judgment on my own.

From Bristol, we rode in virtual silence to the small town of Rudven – the family ancestral home. When we arrived at the house, Andrew and his father unloaded the luggage. When we got out of the car, his mother turned to me and forced a smile. “I’ll show you to your room. Dinner will be ready in an hour.”

I stood in the middle of the small cell-like bedroom with its twin bed and sighed. Obviously, Andrew and I were not to sleep in the same bed. So much for them being ‘progressive.’ I sighed.

A few minutes later, Andrew stuck his head through the door after two knocks. He had my carry-on and suitcase in tow. He noticed the bemused look on my face and forced a small laugh.

“I should’ve told you that my parents are rather old fashioned.”

“Oh no…they are quite progressive” I said, sarcastically.

Andrew laughed again. “If you want, in a day or two, we can stay at the inn in town.”



The following afternoon, I had tea with Andrew’s mother.

“So dear – Andrew tells me that you are a gemologist” she said. “What an interesting profession.” Absentmindedly, she toyed with the beautiful ruby brooch that was pinned to her blouse.

We discussed gemstones, and I told her that the ruby was my favorite gem. I also told her that I was an avid history buff, and asked her if the town was named after the family. It was. She went on to state that the town was founded over five hundred years ago by her husband’s ancestors, the first Rudvens. The family name was of corrupted Welsh origin, meaning ‘red stone’. Rubies were rumored to have been found in the area, but Mrs. Rudven wouldn’t vouch for the veracity of the story. Rubies were not native to the British Isles, after all.

“We’re from a long line of quarrymen. We don’t have much money, but we are proud of our land and history.” She took a sip of tea, then stated, with a laugh “And the only stones here all appear to be grey. It’s quite an odd legend, isn’t it?” She poured more tea.



After a few nights of sleeping in separate twin beds, Andrew and I decided to move to the inn in town, with a promise to his parents to stay one night with them before flying back to the States. As soon as we were in our hotel room, we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other…

While stroking the hair on his chest, I asked Andrew again about the faint scars on and around his groin area. He sighed - obviously tired of the question. “Mona - I keep telling you that I’ve not suffered any kind of abuse. They are just scars from me being an over-indulgent masochist years ago.” He kissed the top of my head. “Now…are you going to spank me or what?”



Andrew planned on going out with a few of his old childhood friends. He asked me if I wanted to join them; I told him that I’d meet them another time. I had recently purchased a guidebook about Rudven and the surrounding towns, so I wanted to lose myself in its history; maybe I’d find the story behind the ruby myths. I could have sworn that Andrew looked relieved when I declined the invitation.

As the hours ticked by however, my curiosity got the better of me. I had no reason to be suspicious of Andrew’s fidelity – I just suddenly had the urge to see what the hell he was up to.

I hailed a taxi, and had the cabdriver drive all over Rudven looking for Andrew. He couldn’t be found in the town’s tavern or coffeehouse. After forty-five minutes, I gave up. When the cabdriver dropped me off in front of the inn, I decided to take a walk. The moon was full, and I was restless.

I walked for about an hour, going further and further from town. Feeling lonely, I saw a forlorn pathway, and took it. I ended up near a grove of trees on the side of the road. Surprisingly, I thought that I heard voices. I stood still for a moment, and listened. What I heard sounded like a strange, quiet lullaby. I slowly crept among the trees to get a better view. Illuminated by the full moon was a group of people - I counted twelve – wearing long pale grey hooded robes. They were walking counter-clockwise around a thirteenth in their center, chanting words that I didn’t understand. I wasn’t sure what I was saw, but I assumed that they were performing a Wiccan ritual of some kind. I thought this will be interesting.

The ‘Wiccan’ circle widened to better reveal the one in the center, who stood before a large grey rock in the grass. The rock and the robes appeared to glow in the moonlight. When the people stopped chanting, the one in the center let his robe fall to the ground…it was Andrew.

I inhaled in shock. Andrew – my Andrew - stood there naked, wearing barbaric-looking jewelry: around his neck was a torque; on his upper arms and wrists were wide bands of metal; similar bands were around his thighs and ankles. Encircling his waist was another belt-like band. The silvery metal sparkled with blood-red stones. Andrew looked magnificent. I had to stuff a fist in my mouth to keep from crying out. My first inclination was to charge in on the scene and drag Andrew away; my second inclination was to stay put and watch. The second inclination won.

Andrew raised his arms up, reciting something unintelligible to my ears. He then fell to his knees, straddling the rock. There was complete silence as Andrew slowly began to thrust himself against it. A low moan escaped his lips as he threw his head back. I refused to believe what I was witnessing. I thought – this is not happening. My man is fucking a rock.

As disturbed as I was, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the scene. Andrew gripped the sides of the large stone to steady himself, as the rock began to pulsate and glow. It moved of its own accord, in a gelatinous fashion. It stretched like putty, and wrapped itself around Andrew’s waist and thighs, sensuously clinging to him. Andrew’s deep moans turned into short gasping breaths as his body jerked violently in the throes of an orgasm. He let out a primal scream, then collapsed across the stone, as it appeared to harden. At that moment, two of the hooded figures dragged Andrew away. He was smeared with semen and blood. Small rivulets of blood and semen trickled from the rock. I couldn’t breathe. I staggered away from the surreal scene, feeling aroused and disgusted at the same time.



I spent the rest of the night wandering about in a daze. I don’t remember how I made it back to the inn. It was close to seven in the morning when I walked into the inn’s small reception area. Andrew was there with his parents and a lone constable. He rushed to my side, beside himself with worry.

“My God, Mona! Where have you been? Everyone’s been searching for you!” He gathered me into his arms, kissing my face all over. His parents stood by, looking confused and relieved.

“We’d thought that we’d have to send out a search team…I thought that you were probably hurt in a ditch somewhere. Oh God…” Andrew pushed back his hair with trembling hands. The constable that was present quietly took his leave.

We packed and returned to the Rudven home.



Andrew sat next to me on the twin bed. I noticed dark circles under his eyes. Wuthering Heights’ Heathcliff suddenly came to mind.

“Mona love – you’ve not said more than a dozen words since this morning. What happened? Talk to me – please.”

I was still tired, hurt, and confused. “I know how you got those scars” was all I said. Andrew’s face drained of color, making the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced. “What do you mean, love?” he whispered.

I couldn’t hold back the tears that welled up in my eyes. “I saw you last night, Andrew.”

He stared at me for a moment, then sighed. He dragged a hand down his face, then replied “I better explain.”

I was told an outrageous story about how Andrew and his male ancestors were required to appease ‘The Mother’ every spring by mating with her to ensure the prosperity of the earth. It was a ritual that was passed down from father to son. It was a ridiculous story, and I told him so.

“What if there are no sons? Then what, you fuckin’ pendejo!” I spat out, still crying.

Andrew thought for a moment, then replied “There have always been sons…I have two younger brothers, you know. I can’t explain it!”

“We live in the twenty-first fucking century, Andrew!” I shouted. “This can’t be real…this is bullshit!” I refused to believe what I actually saw with my own eyes. I needed scientific proof.

It took Andrew the better part of an hour to calm me down, since I also began to hyperventilate. I asked him to take me to the grove…to ‘The Mother’. I wanted to see that goddamn rock in broad daylight. Andrew refused at first, but by making him feel guilty for fucking it and seemingly appearing to enjoy it, I wore him down.



So, we drove out to the grove. In the center of the clearing was an ordinary-looking grey outcrop of stone. I walked up to it and noticed small bits of red and white stones in the grass. They looked like rubies and diamonds. “What the fuck” I muttered, as I bent down to scoop some up. Andrew grabbed me by the arm and pulled me away before I could.

“The stones belong to Her, and when She is ready, She will give them away…” he said reverently. Her? She? I glared at Andrew, while replaying the nightmarish vision of the night before in my mind. Those ‘rubies and diamonds’ were created from Andrew’s blood and semen. “Aw - hell no” I said, as I angrily kicked the rock, stubbing my toes in the process. It didn’t budge.

“Bitch!” I snarled, as I spat on it. “Puta-ass rock!” Andrew dragged me away, horrified by what I had just done.

“Dear God, Mona – you will anger Her!” he shouted.

“Oh – Shut the fuck up with Her already!” I shouted back.



Andrew apparently told his parents about what happened in the grove, due to the stricken looks I later saw on their faces. When we were at the train station, I noticed Mrs. Rudven looking at me with what I thought was complete awe; I fought back against centuries of tradition. I also felt a bond with her then, realizing that she didn’t like sharing her man with a goddamn rock either.



I was never so happy to board a plane as I was going back home. I didn’t hyperventilate, and I didn’t squeeze the life out of Andrew’s arm.



Over the first few weeks, we had to work really hard to get our budding relationship back on track. Andrew was withdrawn and didn’t want to be touched. I was chastened when he revealed to me that he could have died with each encounter with The Mother; if there was no one there to pull him away immediately after ‘mating’, she would have dragged him down to the depths of the earth to keep him for all eternity. The revelation made me shudder. Andrew was worried that if he didn’t return to Rudven the following spring, all hell would break loose, since neither of his brothers were home to be initiated to perform the ritual. As the eldest son, the lot fell to him, but in the case of him being absent, one of his brothers would do.

Fortunately, hell didn’t break loose. From the information he received from home, the crops continued to grow. Everything was still beautiful and green. No one died a horrible death.



We were rushing out to meet friends at a nearby park for a barbeque. Andrew loaded the picnic basket and some lawn chairs into the trunk of the car. I almost forgot our picnic blanket, so I ran back inside to retrieve it. While skipping across the lawn back towards the car, I caught a look of pure terror on Andrew’s face. Right at that moment, I tripped over a large grey rock.











© MFH revised 2014

What If?
07:26 Jul 03 2014
Times Read: 973

If it weren't for my humanism, I might have turned out to be quite a successful sociopath.



I've noticed that over the years I could have manipulated my way to riches while shredding minds and crushing hearts, if I chose.

But as I'm not the type to commit such cruelties, I can only ask:



"What if?"



Of no conscious fault of my own, I am a chameleon. Whether I come across as a wide-eyed lost soul, an aloof ice princess, or a book worm librarian, someone is going to be taken in by my 'charm'. People amaze me with how open and gullible they can be at times.



Just last week, I was walking around my new neighborhood...in fact, I was quite lost. I was looking for The Salvation Army chapter to get information on making a clothing donation. I knew that it wasn't far from my apartment, so off I went. I needed the exercise anyway.

I came upon a side street that was filled with those Spanish-styled houses with the red tile roofs - a main feature in my neighborhood. There was an older white couple in their 70's, loading boxes and clothing into the back of their Mercedes. While still at a distance of about ten feet from them - I didn't want to encroach on their space and scare them - I politely asked if they knew the whereabouts of the street I was looking for. The gentleman said that he wasn't sure, but he'd check his smartphone for me. I came closer, and watched him do a search. When he finally gave me directions, I thanked him. His wife - who was waiting patiently - exclaimed "Oh hon- why don't we just give this nice young lady a ride?" I thanked them and declined the offer.

Now - if I was a sociopath, I could have knocked the old man in the head and taken his phone, or I could have accepted the ride...where I could have later slit their throats and helped myself to whatever they had of value.

They fell for the charms of a wide eyed lost soul.

Sigh...



While standing in a long line waiting to pick up a prescription, I began to feel faint. As I had the bad luck of fainting before while standing in that same damned line, I did all I could to keep it together. Plus - the annoying unwashed masses around me were really beginning to get on my nerves. So, I closed myself off as much as I could. I know that I probably came across as a snob, but I didn't care. However, there was a man standing behind me who kept making furtive glances at me. He didn't think that I noticed, but I did, from behind my dark sunglasses. I also noticed that he was quite attractive. He over six feet tall, with dark hair and eyes...nothing like the unwashed masses that swirled around us. I started to feel dizzy again, so I asked him if he wouldn't mind holding my place, as I had to sit down for a moment. He was only too happy to oblige, smiling the whole time. He had really nice white teeth. Anyway, I took a seat in the waiting area for about five minutes. When I got back into the line, someone mumbled 'She's cutting the line..." and the man who held my spot said "She is not!"

I thanked him again, then I went back into myself. White Teeth - the name I gave the man in my head - started to chat. I didn't want to talk, but as he was kind enough to hold my place in line and I had nothing else to do, I chatted back. The next thing I know, the guy is asking me out for a coffee date. He really seemed sincere. There wasn't even a wedding band tan line on his ring finger. But there was something desperate about him, that I couldn't quite put my finger on. He was too open...too nice. If there could be such a thing. I looked him up and down, thought for a moment, then said "Sure." Then I gave him my number.

...Later, he called that same evening. We made a date for the next evening. I could already visualize screwing the guy royally. Figuratively and literally.

Blood and sweat on his sheets. (You didn't think that I'd take him to my bed...did you)?

I'd suck the life and soul out of the poor man.

He fell for the charms of an aloof ice princess.

Sigh...



One time after work, I dropped by a local market to pick up a few things before going home. While waiting impatiently in the checkout line, I saw my bus pass by. I recall saying "Shit!" under my breath, as I would have to wait for a whole hour before the next bus came. A deep voice behind me said "Was that your bus?" I turned around to see a giant of a man behind me. I had to crane back my neck to look up into his face. I might add that I'm 5'8"; this guy had to be a foot taller than me! After my initial shock, I answered "Yes. And they run every hour too...dammit." He chuckled, then offered to give me a ride home. I politely declined the offer. I felt him looking me up and down, and I had to keep a smirk from my lips. "So...do you work at the courthouse?" He finally asked. I craned back again to get a look at him, which was difficult, as he wore a hoodie; it kept his face in semi-darkness. The only feature that I could make out was a pair of piercing blue eyes. I answered "No."

He then stated that I looked like I should be working at the courthouse or in a library. I laughed. Wearing my hair up, with a pencil skirt and a vintage faux pearl covered cardigan would make me look like a librarian, I suppose. He then asked me again if I was sure that I didn't want that ride. I thought 'What the fuck. I bet this big white dude is goddamn serial killer...'

He must've read my mind, as he pushed back the hood from his head. I was pleasantly surprised. He looked normal. Actually, he was quite good-looking. His head was shaven, but I could tell that he was a blonde. Anyway, I declined the offer again, and told him to have a good evening as I walked away with my bag.

I went to the bus stop. I was the only one there. And it was getting dark. While I was chewing on broken fingernail, a white van pulls up. The front passenger window automatically rolls down...it's the giant from the grocery store. And dammit if he wasn't driving a white serial killer van with tinted windows.

I actually laughed out loud. "I figured that you'd be driving something like this!" I said, still laughing.

He had a confused look on his face. When he finally spoke, he said "The name's Jerry. Where do you live?"

I replied with my name, and gave him the general area where I lived.

"Oh - my father lives in that neighborhood. I was actually picking up groceries for him, and am going to drop them off..."

Yeah...right, I thought. I stopped laughing, as I accidently bit my inner lower lip with my canine teeth.

"Sure - I'll take a ride. Thank you." He actually got out of his van to open the door for me. Such a gentleman. When I sat down, he reminded me to buckle up. He put my bag in the back seat, leaning slightly over me as he did so. Jerry smelled good...like that Spanish soap - Heno de Pravia.

"So - where do you live?"

...Of course, it would be idiotic to get into a stranger's van. But with a few choice words and a gentle hand upon a shoulder, imagine Jerry's state of mind as he found himself naked and tied up in the back of his van, begging me to dig my nails into his flesh...while biting his throat and an inner thigh for blood. The agony and ecstasy of it all.

He fell for the charms of a book worm librarian. He even thought that he could take advantage of her.

He was wrong.

Sigh.



Of course, my dear reader, I would never commit any of the little elegant cruelties I've just described. This is all a matter of 'What if?' I am a humanist, after all.

Right?









© MFH 2014