One nice thing about living out in the middle of nowhere is not having to deal with people. I had my one-story house constructed out of stone and iron, not wood, because I didn't want to be like other people. It had electricity and cable and Internet, run half a mile from the road, underneath the footpath leading from the road to the house. No driveway: I had stocked the house with all the food I'd need, in forms that were essentially everlasting. My idea was never to interact with another live human being again. At age 45, having dealt with the worst traits of humans as I clawed my way to the very top of the corporate ladder before taking my 100 million dollar golden parachute and cashing out, I knew exactly what humans were. The worst and most vile kind of scum. And I wasn't exactly a saint: I had crushed promising careers and destroyed competing companies (and annihilated ordinary people's lives in the process).
I only allowed myself to leave the house for one thing: a daily walk to the cave about 3,000 feet from the house. Enough bioluminescent organisms grew on the walls and ceiling that I didn't need to bring a light with me. And since there was nothing special about the cave, no one else went there. I would often sit on a projecting ledge in the semi-darkness and enjoy the solitude. Or I would walk a few hundred feet down the main path and then walk back, slowly.
One day, as I was about 200 yards from the entrance, I thought I heard yelling from within it. But by the time I reached the entrance, the usual stillness and silence was present. I proceeded several hundred feet inside and settled on a convenient ledge. A few spiders scuttled around, as always, and the centipedes and other small insects and bugs were present.
A hulking figure emerged from a shadowy alcove and lumbered slowly towards me. In the dim light, it looked almost as if it was made of stone. I turned a curious, but neutral, gaze on it and remained silent.
"Who are you?" The voice was definitely female, but deep and gravelly.
"I'm Zane," I replied. "Who might you be?"
"Scoria."
"Nice to meet you."
"I hope you are nice. I was abandoned here by my mistress."
"Is that who I heard screeching like a banshee on my way over here?"
"Yes. She said I was useless and deserved nothing more than to be left forever in this cave, to live out my life forever alone."
"Are you sure she won't come back to fetch you?"
"Positive. She released me from my vows. `Go live or die as you see fit, here, alone in this cave', were her words."
"She sounds like a real bitch. Why don't you come on back to my place with me and we'll talk?"
"Sounds good."
I slowly walked out of the cave and back towards my house. Being a corporate raider didn't lend itself to me having a sprinter's physique or a marathoner's stamina, so a slow walk was about as fast a pace as I could manage. Plus, 45-year-olds don't have the energy that teenagers do.
Scoria was also no sprinter. Once we got into the light, I could see that her entire body was made of gray stone. Her footsteps pounded against the hard-packed dirt of the trail.
"You're not human."
"I am a gargoyle."
She didn't wear clothes. I guessed that gargoyles didn't need them.
"How long have you been able to move?"
"My original mistress animated me 300 years ago."
"Will you remain animated forever?"
"Unless my body is destroyed, yes."
Scoria was about five-foot-five, a couple inches shorter than me. She had been carved as a busty woman, with D-cup breasts, half-inch nipples, and a thick frame. Her perfectly shaped butt was curvaceous. If she were a human, a butt like that would be "bootylicious".
"Is your entire body made of stone?"
"Yes. I do not need to eat, drink or breathe. And since you're clearly attracted to me, as evidenced by the fact you've been staring at my body the whole time we've been walking, I do have the usual anatomical features and am capable of having and enjoying sex. Naturally, I cannot get pregnant or contract STD's."
