(I hadn't planned on continuing this story, but after so much positive feedback I decided to explore it, and the characters, further. Thanks for all of the positive words for the last part!)
Lightning lashed a sky that shouldn't be there, and I sat up sharply in bed. The world had receded in the night. I was lying on crisp white sheets on a bed in the middle of nowhere. I sat there, frightened, and looked around. There was no land, no sky. Just flashes of lightning that lacerated a broken horizon.
I had never dreamed or imagined any place like this before. I tried to understand what was happening, when I froze. There was something out there, in that ruined landscape. It was running towards me. It started off just as a small speck of dark in the distance, but it got closer and larger. It's movement seemed wild, frantic. I wanted to run, to hide, but I couldn't move my body. I looked down at myself, I was naked. When I looked back up, I realised the thing that was coming for me had already reached the bottom of the bed.
Dear God. It was large. Hunched. Staring.
It stood there, wreathed in thick darkness. I felt exposed and afraid. I could only make out its outline. Huge. Winged. Another jagged streak of lightning revealed it to me. I had never seen anything like it before. Great black wings jutted from its back. It had a beautiful face. Wicked lips. Eyes red like a saint's blood. Staring, I realised it had large perfectly rounded breasts and also an erect jutting cock. An angel or a demon, or something mangled in between. It's intense gaze roamed, but then became fixed. It stared down at the warm point between my legs. I wanted to move back, but I was frozen. It started to crawl up the bed towards me. The hunger in its eyes was intoxicating. Terrifying. I instinctively knew it had a depraved thirst, but knew not what this meant. It lowered its beautiful head, and a long pink tongue started to tenderly lick my leg. It licked all the way up my body, sampling and savouring me. When it got to my waist it looked up at me. I realised its red eyes had yellow pupils, sharp like old poison. Whatever it was, I knew it wanted me.
It was poised, patient as a snake, when suddenly its hand shot forward and wrapped around my wrist. I screamed-
And then the dream broke. I woke up drenched in a thick layer of sweat, my sheets tangled around my body. I didn't know what in God's name that was. I hadn't had any nightmares in the house, only dreams of lovers. I looked down at my wrist, it hurt. There was a faint bruise. That was real, and so was the pain.
I rubbed my wrist, numb. Confused.
Whatever it was, wherever, I felt that it had seen me. It knew where I was.
I lay back, panting. I should have known, just when I thought I'd seen it all, Crook house was getting ready to show me just how strange it could get.
*
I had been in the house for four months. Christmas day had just passed, and the new year was coming up. It had been a warm winter, in the house, anyway. I sat in the lounge with a hot chocolate and admired the few decorations I'd put up. There was a tree, with red and gold tinsel, and bright baubles. There were some small decorations I had put here and there. Some reindeer running on the window sill, a dancing snowman on my table. I'd kept it all in here. The house was too big to bother with otherwise. Christmas morning I had been on the phone to my parents, laughing and reminiscing, then I had stripped, wrapped myself in tinsel and walked up the stairs. The ghosts had all been waiting for me. They had bound me and tied me in the tinsel while I giggled. I could still remember the sensation of it biting into my skin. I'd never look at tinsel the same way again. They had all, very teasingly and slowly, made me feel considerably festive. I smiled thinking about it.
Mum had wanted me to come home for Christmas, and part of me wished I had, but I felt I couldn't leave crook house. Even when I was in town, shopping, I felt weird without my ghosts. My lovers. My friends. It was comforting, knowing they were all around me, knowing how much we all cared for each other. The idea of the house standing alone and empty, and the spirits inside unable to connect with anyone, left me feeling oddly distressed.
I would make it up to my parents. I did think of inviting them here, but that quickly passed. They knew I lived in Crook house, and were quite surprised by the turn of events. I hated the idea of them coming here and seeing something weird. They were as straight as I was curved.
I snorted, and had to cup my mouth to stop hot chocolate spilling. Curved was probably an understatement.
*
I had done plenty of research since Halloween. As far as I could tell there were about seven "long nights" per year. These were nights when the dreaming world was thin, and multiple ghosts could walk into your dreams. You could talk to them, touch them, see them, as if they were real. New year's eve, in four days, was apparently a long night. I was looking forward to seeing them all again. Adam. Becky. Liam. Eric. I wanted to get more of their names. Liam laid with me most nights. In some dreams we found each other, I saw him and could faintly see his face, but it was rare that we could talk. I remembered the sound of his voice and smiled.
I had other things to think about. Carver had said I could stay in the house, but he wanted me to make "introductions."
I wasn't quite sure of the best way to do this. I had stalled him for now, but his last call had been testy. Understandably he wanted to know exactly what was here. It had been his life's fascination, and I had told him the house was active, without really telling him any more. I had tried to emphasise to him the sexual energy that was at work here, the nature of the power it gave to the spirits, but I don't think he'd understood at all. I think he thought I was playing with him. Maybe even mocking him. It was easily proved, of course, but I had no idea how he'd react to that.
If he was horrified, or appalled, what would happen then? Could the ghosts contain themselves while he was around, just do some parlour tricks? Not a day went by when at least one of them didn't try to grope or touch me. We had rules though. If I told them to stop, they always stopped. There were so many of them, and they must have all felt lonely. On Christmas Day I had made myself into a present for each and every one of them. Lying there, I had greeted each one as they mounted or licked me. I only wished I had names for all of them.
I often wondered if they could touch or see each other? Did they only sense each other? I felt that I had stirred long dormant interests, so I assumed they weren't able to take care of each other intimately. Maybe I was wrong, but it gave my heart a pang to think it.
That sadness turned to a smile. I felt them around me whenever they sensed I was sad. I would be brooding and feel a tap on my shoulder, a stroke of my hair. Light hugs, that were never so light I couldn't feel them. It was strange, how they had become my friends here, my companions. As always something aching chased the smile away. I was always set apart from them. The long night couldn't come fast enough. I wanted to see those faces again-
Mid-thought I went back to my Laptop and resumed my image searching. I had four key names: Liam. Adam. Eric. Becky. No surnames, though. I had tried searching for people with those names who had died in this area. Or died in the last ten years, but I hadn't found any faces I recognised so far.
I had bought a large blackboard and chalk, I left it set up in the bedroom and told them to write their full names. I knew the ghosts understood me, but despite their clearly capable hands, they seemed mostly unable or unwilling to give me more.
One name did appear: Eric Price. My good boy. The letters were clumsy. It amused me how more adept they were when handling flesh. Another quirk of the summoning stone, perhaps?
I googled his name and got a result. He'd died seven years ago. Only twenty two. He left behind a mother and two sisters. I left it up to him if he wanted me to say anything to them. I left a simple YES and NO on the board, with a box next to either for him to tick.
But what could I tell them? I'd been fucking their son since he passed on? He's having a good time?
