by: Frederick Foote ((Header art is by the phenomenally talented artist Eldzier Cortor.))
Part One of three-part tragedy. A caustic creationary story that begins in the most carnal of ways…
Mrs. Wilson has a real talent. She can even make the Battle of Gettysburg sound boring. As she drones on, I catch a flicker of movement through our classroom window. Near the woods at the edge of the playground something, someone’s there watching the school, and now I’m watching them.
At the bell, I race out of Mrs. Wilson’s History class to where I saw the girl spying on us. I’m sure it’s a girl. I didn’t see her clearly, but in my mind, I know it is. I’m fourteen and small for my age, but I’m one of the fastest runners in our school. I cover the two-hundred yards in no time, but there’s no one there. I search the little patch of woods, nothing. No one, not a damn thing.
The next day she’s back. Just a shift, a hint of a movement. This time, I’m going to get you. Ten minutes before class ends, I ask Mrs. Wilson to be excused to use the restroom.
I speed by the restroom and duck below Principal Jackson’s door and out the side door away from the playground. I run through the nearby trees to come up behind the watcher, catch her in the act.
I slow down when I reach her clump of woods. I move like a shadow. I’ll surprise the shit out of her.
I lose sight of her for a second or two, and when I get to where she was, she’s gone. Disappeared. No way. She has to be close. There’s no place to hide in this little plot of woods. To get away, she has to go south and cross the highway to the forest. I fly down the path she has to follow. I’ll catch up to her long before she reaches the highway, but I don’t. She can’t be that fast, no one is.
At the highway, I turn around to go back and there she is, standing right in front of me. She’s black, but albino with big grayish eyes, nice lips, and a stubby nose. Her hair’s like a wild snowy bush growing on her head. She has on this thin, gray dress and brogans. I can see her nipples through her dress.
“Hey, how did you do that? Where did you hide? Aren’t you cold? Your arms must be freezing.”
She gets right up in my face. She’s taller than me by inches. She looks down on me.
“You stay away from me. You got that?”
“You stop spying on people. You got that?”
For a minute there I think we’re going to duke it out, but she brushes past me muttering.
“Stupid boy. Mind your own business.”
She flies down the path. Man, I ain’t never seen anybody run that fast.
That night I dream about her gray eyes and her little. nipples. I hope I see her again. I’ll see her again. I know I will.
The next day I pick two nice, big Bartlett pears and two Golden Delicious apples from our trees and put them in a brown paper bag. At lunch time, I go to her spot and tie the bag of fruit to a tree where I know she’ll see it.
After school, I walk over to her spot. She’s not there, but the fruit’s gone. I laugh out loud, crazy happy until an apple flies out of the woods and slams into my shoulder. A pear hits me in the stomach, an apple catches me in the temple and knocks me to the ground.
I look up, and she’s standing over me. She points a finger at me, “You stay away from me. I’ll really hurt you next time. Got it?”
I yell at her retreating back. “I got it, you bushwhacking coward. You would run from a fair fight. Go on. Run away.”
She takes two more steps, stops and marches back to me looking real angry as I struggle to my feet.
“Listen stupid boy—“
“Coward!” I spit the word into her face.
“I’m not afraid of you boy. I’m not afraid of any of you.“
“Duel.”
“What?” She looks like she doesn’t know the meaning of the word.
“Duel, stupid. We fight a duel. The winner gets to punch the loser in the shoulder three times. And the loser has to apologize.”
“A duel? You can’t beat me at anything. You’re—“
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. You name it. Anything at all.”
“OK, ambusher, we have a question duel. We have to answer each other’s questions and tell the truth. You got that?”
“That’s not a duel. That’s ridiculous. You are a stupid boy.” She turns to leave.
“Cluck, cluck, cluck. Run on chicken. Run on home.” That stops her in her chicken tracks. She slowly turns and walks back to me. She’s breathing hard when she stops in front of me. “I’ll ask the first question boy.”
“My name is Kenyon.”
“Kenyon, what do you want from me?”
I blush. I look away from her. I start to sweat. “I, I want to be your friend. I, I—”
“Oh, I bet you do. What do you really want, huh?”
“I want to, to touch your nipples, and kiss you, and, and….you know.”
“I don’t know Kenyon. That’s why I’m asking. Tell the truth, boy.“
“I want to see your pussy, touch it. I want to fuck you.” I’m exhausted like I ran a mile. My face is on fire. Did I really say that?
Now she’s laughing. She has dazzling white teeth. “Kenyon, I like this game. Your turn.”
I step closer to her, look directly into her eyes. “What are you?”
She slaps me. I didn’t see it coming. I don’t see her leave, but she’s gone, disappeared as my face grows numb.
That was Friday. Friday night I dreamed about her eyes, teeth, and nipples.
Saturday, I try to stop thinking about her which makes me think about her more. I dream she’s slowly lifting her thin dress up past her knees, her thighs—I cum in my sleep.
Sunday evening I’m fishing in my favorite spot on Weeping Willow Creek. It’s dusk when she appears standing about ten feet away, staring at me.
“Go away. You cheat. You’re a cheating coward.”
She walks right up to me like she’s going to do something. I stand up to meet her. She tries to stare me down. That’s not going to happen. “Alright, I’ll have sex with you. We can do it here, now.”
I want to, God how I want to. I have to shout out my answer quick before I say the wrong thing. “No! Go away. You’re a liar and a cheat.”
She’s gritting her teeth mad. “Little boy, I’ll….this is your first time. You’re a virgin—“
“Go away. I’m trying to catch some fish here.”
“I’ll make it so good. You’ll never forget it.” She starts lifting her shabby little dress. I push her hard. She falls on her butt with a surprised look on her face. Instantly she’s in my face again. How does she do that? How can she move so quickly?
Her face is dark, fierce; her eyes are narrow slits. “You little know nothing fucker! I can kill you, kill you easy as swatting a fly.”
Right now she wants to do just that. I’m not scared, much. “Yeah, sure, anything to avoid admitting you lost the duel, lost to me, a stupid boy.”
She steps back, closes her eyes, takes deep breaths. “I can’t tell you. I can’t tell anyone, ever. They would kill me and you and your Pa, and that skinny little girl you like at school. Every one of them dead by morning.”
She looks so serious and sincere. I think she’s a fine actress. “Bullshit. How do you know about my Pa and Mary Wilson?”
“I cross my heart and—“
“Oh, please, I doubt if you even have a heart.”
She tries to look hurt and angry, but she ends up giggling for a second “Maybe, maybe not, but I have a pussy.”
I grab my fishing pole, my string of pan fish and my tackle box. “Get lost, you loser.”
Again she’s in front of me blocking my path. “I can’t tell you. That’s the truth, honest.” She pauses and looks earnestly at me. I just shake my head and step around her.
“OK, OK you win. I lose.”
I turn around and face her. “Why can’t you tell me?”
“I can’t. I took an oath.”
Her eyes are pale gray, almost colorless. Her eyelashes are almost the same color. I’ve never seen anyone like her, not even close. We just stand there for a minute. “I bet you don’t even know what you are. I bet—“
“Shut up! You shut up now, or I’ll show you what I am. I’ll—“
I cross my arms, look her straight in the eyes. “Show me. You show me what you are.
“I’ll take that as your answer.”
“No! You’re just a little boy who has never even got his dick wet. I would scare you to death. You would run away screaming. You—“
“Yeah, yeah you’re so full of bullshit, and you call me stupid.”
Her eyes go all wide. She snarls, I mean like an animal; she shows her teeth and moves toward me.
“Not on me stupid. On someone, I don’t know.”
She shakes her head in frustration, balls up her fist and pounds her thighs. And then she’s off through the woods, and I’m racing to keep up.
We’re moving up toward the high meadows, deer hunting country. She slows down after about a mile. I’m about half dead from trying to keep up with her.
“Be quiet. You sound like you’re dying. Keep behind me. Keep quiet.”
She has a nice ass, what my Pa calls an “African butt.” I want to reach out and touch it. She turns her head and gives me this look. I put my hands in my pockets.
When we creep to a stop, she points to a log at the edge of the meadow. It takes me a while to see the man in camouflage with the scoped rifle. She signals for me to stay. In a flash, she’s right behind the poacher. She raps him hard on the back of the head. He’s out like a light. She leans his head on the log and motions for me to come to her.
She’s nicking the hunter’s jugular veins with her fingernail as I arrive. She locks her mouth over the cut and is drinking his blood. She’s trembling with excitement as she eats. I get closer and see her eyes are shut. Her hands are rubbing her thighs, up and down, faster and faster.
She only sucks for a few minutes. She licks the wound shut and leans back against the log with her legs pulled up. I can see the patch of white hair down there like fur.
I crawl forward. I can’t take my eyes off her patch of hair. Now I’m trembling. I’m so close I can see the lips of her pussy. She spreads her legs. I think she giggles. Her pussy is incredible. I lean in to get close, to see it up close. God, I want this more than anything ever in my whole life.
I don’t know how, maybe she moved toward me, but my lips touch her lips down there and everything explodes like lightening. She explodes in my mouth. I jump back, fall on my butt. There’s gray liquid stuff in my mouth, on my nose and chin. I swallow and lick and rush back between her legs. I can’t get enough of her. She pushes me away, stands, grabs my hand and we race to a group of trees about a hundred yards away. As she enters the cover of the trees, she pulls off her dress. I can see everything. I’m speechless. She’s so beautiful. She unbuckles and pulls down my pants as I reach for her breast.
And then I’m in her. Inside her. I think I have died and gone to heaven. We do it again and again.
“Do it again. Be a fountain, okay.”
“I can’t just do it when I want to. It doesn’t work like that.”
I kiss her. “You’re so beautiful. I love you.”
She laughs and slips on her dress. “We have to go.”
I’m sad to see her covered up in that old dress. “What the hell?” I grab her arm, pull it into the moonlight. Her arm, face, her legs, all turning brown.
On the way back she tells me, the hunter’s not dead. Killing attracts too much attention.
The brown color’s her “happy” color when she’s well fed.
And that I’m way too young and inexperienced for her. She made a mistake in having sex with me and that it was the one and only time.
Finally, she said if I told anyone about what she was she would kill me.
I try to kiss her goodbye, but she turns her cheek and pushes me away.
For the next five days, I have so much energy, and I’m sharp in school. I run so fast it scares me. I just feel good all over.
I keep reliving over and over her and me in the woods.
On Friday after school, I go sit in her spot where she spied on us, on me. I think she was spying on me. It’s well after dark before she shows herself, but I think she has been watching me for a while.
Her Brown is fading away. She walks right up to me, grabs my hand and pushes it up between her legs. I stick my fingers in her wet pussy. She lets go of my hand. My fingers leap into my mouth. It’s the best thing I have ever tasted. I want her stuff so bad I could cry.
She steps back and smiles and asks me, “Kenyon, it’s my question now. What are you? What kind of creature are you?”
I’m dizzy from the taste, smell and closeness to her. “I’m not like you. I’m human, I mean—“
She smiles and takes another step back away from me. “I need blood to blossom. What do you need Kenyon?”
“Don’t go. Please don’t go, please.”
She smiles as she takes another backward step. “Tell me Kenyon and I might stay.”
“I need you. I need you. I need what you give me, your cum. I need that.”
“Why?”
“To be alive. To be really alive.”
“You need my sweet juices? And what’ll you give me in return? What’re you willing to trade?”
I pull back my collar, expose my neck. She holds out her hand to me. Hand in hand we move toward the dark woods.
To Be Continued…
