Into the Mouth of Ebony

As I approached the bottom of the steps I could almost sense something was wrong, I should have stayed upstairs; I wish I had never gone down there alone. Unfortunately, "should haves" and wishes, don't change the past- nothing does. So here I am reliving this again like so many tossing and turning sleepless nights. That first time I say now I could feel something but honestly that might be the foreboding I have now about approaching cellars and basements. I'll never go sub-floor again, I'm always afraid he's down there waiting for me, like he was that first day.

The smell of the cellar has always been a huge factor in my discomfort with them, that and the darkness; between those two things it's a wonder that I ever went down there at all. To date I can't even remember why I ventured that day, whether it was to take something down or bring something up it changed my life forever.

It had been incredibly hot that day, uncharacteristically for New England, and as I reached the bottom of the step the cool feeling of the concrete floor against my bare feet was calming, comfortable, almost relaxing. But the sweat from having been up in the kitchen for most of the day was still rolling from my forehead and over my nose. As I brought my hands up to wipe my face, I caught my first glimpse of him standing there. Although our cellar was not very large it seemed as though he was a good safe distance from me, as if I had nothing to fear. I allowed myself the luxury of trying to take in what I had seen, truthfully because I didn't believe he was really there.

At first glance he was standing the length of the cellar away from me, I could make out his dark hair, long, jet black, shiny; that and the fact that he was wearing very dark clothes. I looked away for a flash before I realized he was standing there, and by the time I looked back he had decreased his distance between us by half and I noticed the dark shirt that seemed once buttoned to the neck was half undone. It was at this point I could get a much better look at him, how very pale he was against the darkness of his hair and clothing; and the way he smiled. Such an adult smile on such an innocent looking face as if his mouth already knew something that his eyes didn't quite yet know.

Right then I began to find fear, and as I tried to turn, to leave, to get out, to get away- I realized that now he was upon me. My legs refused to work, like they were in conspiracy with him and suddenly there was a cold breeze upon my face. His eyes staring into mine, still smiling, still knowing so much more about his intentions than I did; he showed no sign of malicious intent, I never could have guessed. Now his shirt was completely undone and the phrase milky white seems the only fitting way to describe the hue of his skin, it was almost without color at all. I started to shiver, partially from the chill-mostly from fear.

As I stood there paralyzed he brought his finger up to my lips; perfectly pale, new looking hands tracing the outline of my lips. Carefully, gently, deliberately misleading he touched my lips, my nose and the side of my face. As he hand trailed around my cheek I glanced down, I negligently broke eye contact for a brief second; it was all he needed to draw me in. My body began to shake, my mind trembled as everything I knew shifted dramatically and wicked quick.

As I looked down I could see that the cool cotton summer clothes I had been wearing had transformed into a full emerald green dress, my short brown hair was now full ringlets of scarlet wrapping around my neck and leading my attention to the heavy golden chains embedded with large stones that I now wore. It felt as though I was watching a movie because I barely knew the person this was happening to. I looked up panic stricken searching for some sense of truth; I met with only that same cool, gentle yet deceptive smile

That once youthful looking hand couldn't have looked more like a demon's claw as it came to rest on my neck just a brief second before it grasped the front of the dress and used it as leash to yank me to a darker part of the cellar, a section that I had never seen. The tears pouring from my eyes and my mouth desperately trying to speak half of what my mind was forming at that moment came out only as a brief desperate word,

"please...", I uttered.

"Please?", he questioned. "Please what? Exactly what would you have me do, my lady?"

This was the first time I had heard him speak and it was at this first hearing that I noticed the accent. It sounded like an English accent but more over like an older England. A proper, puritan, almost religiously calm English voice echoed from the mouth of this creature. I say creature only because I now know things about him that make him the cruelest thing to ever have in habited the Earth, and the things that he said next could only begin to prepare me for just how evil he really was.

"Please stop, please let me go.", I could only barely hear myself saying.

"Stop? Let you go? Stop what exactly? I haven't even begun with you, and you're already crying, this is going to be so much fun."

His words was the furthest thing from my mind at that moment, I paid very close attention to what his hands were doing more so than what he said- I had already determined that most everything about him would be untrustworthy. He noticed that I wasn't listening and the air around us became hellish hot. The beads of sweat began form on my upper lip, and I tried desperately not to show fear.

"You're looking a little warm, dearie", he spoke the last of the words even as he was extending his tongue and licking the salty flavor from my mouth. This was again the only window he needed, as soon as I turned my head from him I could hear the bodice of dress being ripped from my body almost before I could feel it.

I started to scream; I found a voice like nothing before. I knew somebody would come help me. Previous to his display of violence I hadn't really tried to get away, now I fought with everything I had. I didn't quite know what I was up against but I knew that I was in danger; it was time to go. As I screamed and began to writhe away from him, I paused to observe his reaction; I expected him to recoil, to return to the darkness and let me go out fear of being found.

He neither pulled away, nor did he show any sign of fear of my screaming. He only smiled, kept his grip on my arm and watched me panic. He held me at arm's length and enjoyed my screaming for a while. Extended outwardly, I heard his voice only briefly before I felt the sting of being slapped and the pain of landing on the cold hard Concrete floor.

"Shut the hell up! I can only stand for so much before its just time to shut you down and get to business.", I heard his voice playing back in my head as if it were the first time as I picked myself up off the ground. "Let's get a lil something straight. When I have you, they can't hear you; so short of me telling you to stop you can scream yer bloody head off. So long as you keep that pretty mouth intact for when I need it." he calmly explained it all to me as if it were some new game that I was a willing participant in.

I closed my eyes and shook my head out of frustration. I mentally tried to talk myself out of this situation. I played and replayed all the reasons why this couldn't be happening. I repeatedly swore to damn the confusion I felt, all the while pacing back and forth. For just a second I thought I had convinced myself out of it. I didn't see him anywhere around, and the grip he had on my arm was instantly gone.

"I'm okay", I thought to myself, "I'm okay."

"Oh are you now?" he said, "that's funny I thought we were just beginning."

When they found me, I had a large bluish purple bruise across the right side of my face; they said it was from where I had hit the floor when I fainted. I had a small cut right in the middle of the amethyst hue that marked my forehead, they estimate from how I was laying that it must have come from my head clipping one of the metal shelves when I fell. The doctor at the ER said that between over exerting myself and the heat, my body just "shut down". I felt shivers go down my spine, "just time to shut you down and get back to business", was all I could hear in my head.

The doctor's explanation seemed perfectly rational; I wonder if I would have told him about the salty taste in my mouth that I couldn't seem to brush away no matter how hot the water was or the ripped feeling I had between my thighs, I wonder if he could have explained that. It would be some time before I could understand what happened that first time down in the cellar.

Chapter two

It was a very long time before I made any more trips to the cellar. Now this may lead the normal person to question, why would I ever go back down there to begin with; trust it was not of my own free will. I managed to avoid the cellar, the kitchen and the whole down stairs for quite some time while recovering from my injuries. The bump on my head left me with a mild concussion, dizzy spells and severe nausea; and to be honest I procrastinated for as long as I could. I did not want to get back to everyday life, at least not in that house.

Out in public, I was fine; I felt safe from him. I still hadn't told anyone about that day, I was sure they would have locked me away in the loony bin. Maybe I should have, maybe it would have made some type of difference, maybe I could have left him and that house behind a long time ago. I might have even been able to forget about that one day. Well here we are back to "maybe's" and "should haves"; there's no way to change or forget anything, not now.

I managed to convince myself that maybe it was all the heat that day, that and the bump on the head was the reason I had this memory trapped in my head. I drilled into my recollection a whole new series of events for that day. I made excuses for every possible confusion, there was no way what I remember actually happened. So armed with a brand new subconscious and some pain pills, I was ready to go back to being a housewife and mom; cleaning in the living room, cooking in the kitchen, and eventually doing laundry- in the cellar.

When I became brave enough to trust my new found ignorance, I only entered the cellar when my husband was home and already down there. At first I even tried to prevent him from going down there altogether mistakenly fearing that he might be in danger from this thing. I believed that after a period of time with nothing happening to him, not even so much as a scratch on the hand. Once I knew that he goes down without incident all the time, it became alot easier to trick myself into believing that I had nothing to fear. So there came a time when I ventured into the cellar, alone and without hesitation.

That day I needed something simple, I believe it was ant spray for my flowerbed; I tried to stay outdoors as much as possible during the day. Walking down the steps I used all my senses to my advantage; I listened for his voice or some type of scuffling, I scanned the darkness for his smile, and I inhaled waiting for that hot sulphur stench. To my great confusion and pleasure, there were none of those. The cold concrete once again unthreatening, I walked confidently to the shelf, retrieved what I needed and left the cellar unscathed.

Confidence is a funny thing, it can be one of your greatest assets; I tend to believe that sometimes it can serve as your demise as well. When I went to bed that night, I fell asleep quickly, comfortably, and without the haunts that had been keeping me awake the many nights before. The AC was on high, I didn't worry about the shadows on the wall, I lay there and slept sweetly- until I heard the whistling.

The faint squealing noise seemed to be coming from some dream, that I couldn't recall having been in the middle of; its quite simple, I was asleep- I was not dreaming about anything. To find the source of the noise my immediate reaction was to sit up and scan the room, but it had been so long since I had actually been able to find such a careless slumber I fought that urge and then washed it away altogether. This can only be explained as a big mistake on my part, back to that whole confidence being my downfall. I allowed myself to return to comfort of believing I was safe; actually its more like he allowed me to return to that comfort. Unfortunately, my safe encounter with the cellar this morning had been one of his tricks, but when I didn't return shortly there afterward, he became enraged.

There in the darkness he just began ranting,"Why have you been avoiding me, did you think I couldn't come up here to get you, did you really believe you were safe here? I can go anywhere I want, I just don't like to leave the cellar; and you are a very bad girl for making me seek you out, but that should tell you how very special you are to me. I will always come to find you if I have to, but trust me you don't want to make me come looking for you again. I will come here and leave you screaming with him lying there beside you. I will shove my whole hand inside your cunt and rip you apart, he will know that I have been here. Then what will you tell him, what will you try to explain away when he's right beside you while you twist and turn in agony or rapture? I can make you feel whatever I want, but either way you will come to see me tomorrow or I will be back. Tell me you understand; say the words for me."

"I understand." I whispered.

"There's a good girl. So tomorrow it is then. Till then, a kiss, to seal our arrangement; bites with blood." Then silence. That night I cried myself to sleep

As I woke up the next morning, my eyes seemed unwilling to open, sealed by all the tears. My legs ached from keeping them clenched together so tightly. As my husband rolled over hoping for some early morning lovemaking and I could hardly keep myself from physically attacking him. With no way of knowing the source of my rage, he left our bed and even as I attempted to apologize he pushed me away and told me I needed to get my shit together. Knowing that if that creature makes another visit to our bedroom it may spell serious trouble for our marriage, I began to reconcile on a time when I could go down to the cellar and hopefully ... hopefully what? Um, I guess I was trying to convince him not to victimize me. I went down there plead with him to just leave me alone, to try to find out why me.

The darkness was silent with only the creaking of the steps to comfort me. I listened for that heavy breathing, for that wolf like panting to give me some idea in which direction he would be lurking. There would be no sound, because without the element of surprise, he would lose some amount of control and that just would not do.

The air turned harsh and swollen making it hard for me to breathe. The sweat started layering on my skin, and then dripping to the small of my back. It was then he chose to manifest himself in front of me; not five or ten feet in front of me but directly in front of me. I made sure I stared straight into his eyes. I would show him that I was not the one he wanted. He wanted someone weak and scared, someone he could prey upon. I would not be that special someone for him. Unfortunately, it would be my heart that would betray me.

"I can hear it, I know you can too. The blood is rushing through your veins so fast your skin feels afire. Your heartbeat is like a shameless drum begging me to come to you. Well, here I am bitch and you are mine."

I felt my thighs quivering and I began praying. Please don't let my body do this to me. This is not what I want, why is my body acting this way. I tried to explain it away; it's an involuntary reaction. Please God give me the strength. Yet even as I said the silent prayer, I felt the hot juice building like some impending explosion.

He licked his tongue out long over his lips, smiling and showing me all of his teeth. It was then that I flinched, just briefly my eyes fluttered. However I didn't look away, I made the mistake of looking down. It was then that I realized that the entire time that he stood in front of me with only sweat and thick air separating us, he had been naked. As the humiliation washed over me he let out this loud contemptuous laugh. It was the loudest thing I had ever heard; louder than train or car accident, more frightening than the scream of child fresh from a bad dream and more lingering than a shadow unrestrained by the sun.

It wasn't so much that he was nude, but the way he calmly waited for me to find out on my own. The patience that it took was like some close proximity stalker, totally without hurry. I had looked away, I had been the first to blink and this would be my punishment; the confirmation of my fear was his reward. His joy was making me feel plain and unremarkable like a thousand white buttons kept in a box. Never to adorn some little girl's fancy dress or mother's Sunday sweater, only to be sorted this way and that and then crowded back in amidst the others, unchosen.

As I stood there consumed with a combination of guilt and anger, he took his hand and gently brushed the hair out of my face. He tilted my head so that my eyes met his and the smile that spread across his lips was beautiful and childlike. Suddenly dressed the way he was that first day, he seemed pleasant and inviting.

"You are as much fun as anything I have ever known, I will truly love having you for my own, for as long as I want you."

The tears began to stream down my face and as he kissed them away troublesome thoughts fogged my mind. What was the true source of my sadness? Was it the feeling that I would never be free of him or the thought that one day he could just toss me away? He softly kissed me as if sensing my confusion. I looked deep into his eyes searching for something, searching for mercy. His kisses becoming concentrated more around my mouth area, his tongue darting around my lips, but never entering. I again felt the wetness growing between my legs. Almost as if he could smell me, he stopped with the kissing to begin nuzzling my cheek and neck with his nose. Sniffing and inhaling me like a fine wine, he traveled down to my shirt, until he was faced with the buttons that barred his way. In one swift motion he ripped away the cloth and pushed his hand between my legs. He used his current grasp to lift me up and then put me down on the hard floor.

The icy rock against my back brought me back to reality and I started to scramble away from him. With one hand he grabbed my ankle and like a steel rod through my leg, I was pinned to the floor. Using his free hand, he undid the shiny black belt from his pants, and allowed it to slowly slide free from the belt loops. I now know that in an instant he could have been nude at will. It was the thrill of the hunt; it was watching my eyes get large and then closed very tightly in fear. It was feeling his own heart pound as the belt finally reached its last loop and with a loud pop, seeing me cower from him. He enjoyed forcing my hands to undo his shirt buttons. Every button slipped gently through every buttonhole, knowing that all the while I'm remembering how he ripped mine away.

His hands ran up my thighs and lovingly removed everything below my waist, with such hesitation as a virgin schoolboy. All along that darkness behind his eyes, no matter the pink in his cheeks, or the grin on his face that cruelty lurked. With one hand grabbing eagerly between my thighs, his other hand kept me on the floor with a grip on my neck. His strength was immeasurable, it seemed that he could have held me there for days with one finger pressed to my chest. He enjoyed that particular hold, he could feel my throat move as I tried to swallow, could feel my pulse quicken as he slid his fingers inside me, but just as promptly he could squeeze my breathing to a shallow pant to remind me what fear was. When my heart pounded through my chest and it seemed as though I might lose consciousness, he would loosen his grip and lay against me allowing the hammering to beat in time with his.