14 minutes and 32 seconds. That's how long it took for me to die.
Death was not an option for me. I was set up. I know the amount of time it took me to die because I could only lie there and stare at my watch as the blood pooled around my body. I could hear the voices around me waiting for me to die. That rat bastard Dunston wanted to buy me out, now he has the business. I hope it fails.
Dunston was my partner in a small real estate company, which was on it way up. I had worked my ass off to get lucrative clients while he dabbled in fixer-uppers. I had mentioned once that I wanted to move on to something else and he must have taken it too literally.
For the most part Dunston was a schmoozer with weasel tendencies. I became partners with him because he had the capitol needed to get us up and running. We studied business together, thankfully we never dated but we did somehow maintain a friendship. Dunston didn't have many or any friends that I knew of; he was for sake of a better word, different. You could even say he was dark.
So now I lay there on the fringes of continuation only able to watch in my ethereal form. Ethereal, I never knew what it really meant until I joined the ranks. It's really not so bad now, you get used to it after a while. I don't see that white light you hear about. It's pretty much the same as when I was still alive, except the coffee doesn't stay down as well.
I would have to say that the most difficult part of being dead is not being able to interact with others. I should clarify: others, the ones that can still breathe. My fellow apparitions are easy to see and converse with but most are tormented spirits. They ruin the party.
I'm not quite sure if this is heaven or hell or if I'm trapped between dimensional planes, they don't give you a handbook. It's more of a "learn as you go" kind of thing. I've learned that yelling at the living doesn't work, they can't hear you or won't hear you, and I'm not quite sure which it is yet. I've learned to move objects. At first it was a desperate attempt to communicate now it's just for something fun to do. People don't believe in ghosts and I really can't blame them, I didn't until now. Then again, no one really plans on becoming one, you either believe you go up or down or into space.
The nice thing is that I was well dressed at the time of my demise. That's what you wear for this internment not what you are buried in so make sure you listen when mom says to wear clean underwear. I was wearing my favorite navy pinstripe suit with a power tie, my black pumps were the only thing missing. The newcomers flock to me thinking I'm a cruise director for the Great Beyond. They look so sad when I tell them I know as much as they do maybe a little more. I'm not sure what the date is, time is conceptually different now. I can make approximations based on what's going on in the living world as to seasons and holidays.
Christmas is strange in itself. Mr. Dickens' concept was close because there are the souls that are in the throes of expiation making wretched attempts to right the wrongs of their past lives. It's a different level of perdition for them but who makes the judgment calls is still unknown to me. Sometimes they are able to intervene and that leads them closer to the theoretical or theological apotheosis we've become accustomed to as humans. It's the chance for redemption before final damnation. These were bad folks in real life.
The really evil ones you learn to steer away from altogether. They are easily recognizable as ugly shapeless black entities, for a better description. You can feel them when they are close by and even in death they can make you shudder. They have no desire to be saved and move on; they are quite content to continue inflicting agony on innocent victims. And, they stink. It's like a year old Easter egg that was encased in dog shit, tossed in the compost heap and set on fire.
I stay close to my old haunts, no pun intended. Familiarity affords some comfort and seeing friends and family is some provision of solace. It can also be frustrating. You see, I can't move on to whatever the next level is since I was murdered. Until my killer is found and punished I'm stuck here. The drawback is that no one realizes I was murdered and so the hunt for the guilty is not taking place.
The set up was perfect. I received a call from Dunston to meet him at an address to check out a potential sale. The house was located on the outskirts of the city and hidden from the main road. It was winter and we had a dangerous ice storm a few nights prior to my visit. I was hesitant about going there but he was insistent and I had all wheel drive.
Finding the house was easier than I anticipated. There was a long driveway that led to a foreboding old mansion. "He's got to be kidding." I thought to myself. There had better be something inside that would make the house marketable, imported wood, marble, all the embellishments one would desire in such a manor. I was glad I wore my boots when I cautiously approached the front steps. I didn't see Dunston's car so I took a chance that the front door may be opened. Soon as my hand turned the doorknob and I was able to gain entrance I felt a sense of something menacing.
Inside was dark and I had to remove my sunglasses. The sun was out today and was reflecting off of the ice-encrusted snow and creating rivers of slush. As my eyes adjusted to the light of the room I could see the house had been closed for a while but someone had begun to make minor repairs. Drop cloths shrouded furniture and a ladder stood in the center of the room. Off to the left was a staircase that wrapped around to a larger landing that led to a few doors.
I was just about to go through the main room to a doorway I assumed led to a pantry or kitchen when I heard a noise upstairs. I stopped in my tracks and listened carefully. Quiet. My adrenaline kicked in and I started to get a cold chill. Probably an animal that's just as frightened as I am, I told myself. I resumed my exploring when I heard the noise again, a shuffling sound of some sort. I was now curious as well as unnerved and decided to find the source of the noise.
I wasn't afraid of the unknown because I believe that everything can be explained. I inherited that from my father, he was an anthropologist and unlocking mysteries was his forte. He taught me everything had a cause and effect, nothing was without reason. It's ironic in a way because he didn't believe in ghosts. Here I am, proof positive that they do exist.
Climbing the staircase, I made a list of possibilities in my head of what could be making the noise. After all, the house was old and could be settling, I had already presumed the possibility of animals or maybe a vagrant had been seeking shelter. The realtor in me was rather impressed by the intricately carved staircase. It was a dark cherry wood probably imported and matched the wood panels that lined the walls.
I was looking up at the ceiling when I stepped down on a weakened board. My foot easily punched through to my ankle causing my boot to get hung up in the splintered wood. My knee jammed against the next stair and I went down hard hitting my chin off the stair above that one. I could taste the blood in my mouth and the stinging in my leg. What pissed me off the most was that I had just put on a new pair of stockings for a meeting later with a new client. I can imagine the impression I would make to him.
I was trying to get my bearings when I heard footsteps in the hallway above me. Looking up I could see nothing moving. If that bastard Dunston was playing a joke on me I was going to rip him a new asshole.
"Hey! Smartass. Jokes over come and help me, I've hurt my leg." I yelled.
There was no reply.
"This isn't funny now, my foot is stuck and I'm not sure if it's broken or not."
Still no reply.
Now I was really pissed and I had to spit out the blood welling in my mouth, I had knocked out a tooth as well as biting a hole in my lip. My tears were a mix of pain and anger streaming down my cheeks. I tried to wrench my foot from the hole and in doing so lost my boot.
Fuck, I thought, a pair of $300 Prada ankle length lambskin boots shot to shit. He's going to buy me a new pair. My ankle was starting to throb and swell; I prayed it was just a sprain. Pulling my self up onto my good leg I braced myself against the railing and looked for my purse to get a tissue. Then I heard the faint sound of a deep laugh coming from the room above me.
'You prick. ' I thought to myself. 'What the hell was he up to?' I gingerly made my way up the staircase checking each board before putting my foot down. I hobbled along on one bad leg and one booted leg until I reached the top of the landing.
As I reached the top of the landing an icy breeze cut right through me and I shivered uncontrollably. There were no sounds other than a dripping of water. I followed the sound to a small room off to my left. There was a gaping hole in the ceiling where large icicles hung down and formed a small mound of ice spread out on the floor. The room was pretty much empty except for a standing mirror with a chair placed in front of it. The light coming in from the ceiling allowed me to see a circle drawn on the floor and some small candle stubs. It looked as though someone had been performing some kind of ritual. As I moved closer I saw on the floor an inverted pentagram and in the center was the fountain pen I received as a gift from when I first opened the business. I thought I had lost it and panicked because it was so sentimental to me.
I was getting scared now, this wasn't funny it was wrong. I needed to get out of there quickly. There was a sound behind me like something rushing past the door. I limped out after it. Reaching into my purse I fumbled for my can of pepper spray just in case. I'd give that bastard a face full if he was there.
I walked into the next room; it was darker than the first. Old deteriorating drapes hung from the windows and their heavy material blocked out most of the light. I thought I saw something move in the corner a black shape of some sort.
"Who ever you are, show yourself or I'm going to give you a spraying you'll never forget." I shouted. There was no reply and no movement. "I can hear you breathing asshole." Still nothing.
I reached into my bag for my cell phone and started to dial 911. Something or someone unseen rushed at me and knocked the phone out of my hand sending it smashing into the wall. My heart was starting to pound and I could feel myself break out into a cold sweat. I backed out of the room and there, at the top of the staircase, stood Dunston. He stood there staring as if he could see right through me.
The air grew cold and I could see my breath as I spoke to Dunston.
"What the hell is going on here?"
"I'm getting what I want." He said flatly.
I could feel presence behind me and then I could smell a smell I would soon become familiar with, the smell of death. It grew stronger and I started to feel nauseous. Slapping my hand over my mouth to keep from vomiting. I moved towards Dunston. He stepped in front of me to block my way out.
I swallowed hard. "Get out of my way."
He smiled slightly lifting one corner of his mouth. "Or you'll what? Call the police?"
I remembered the can of pepper spray and if reading my thoughts he grabbed my wrist and twisted it making me drop the canister to the floor.
"Nice try, but as I said I'm getting what I want." He then pushed me into the first room I had entered. A sharp pain shot through me as I put weight on my injured foot. I lost my balance and fell to the floor. As I scrambled to pull my self up onto my knees I locked eyes with the mirror. The image inside was not a reflection of me getting up but of me lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. I could feel the blood drain from my face and felt sick once again.
Turning around quickly I sat on the floor and faced Dunston. His face showed no emotion, no regret, and no compassion.
"I want to know what's going on here, right now. What do you mean by getting what you want?" I asked.
"You know what I want. I want the business and I need your soul." He sneered. "And maybe a piece of that fine ass of yours while I'm at it."
He lunged towards me and I kicked at him hitting him square in the chest with my good leg sending him backwards and landing on his tailbone.
"Fucking bitch!" he said. "Hold her down." he said to something lurking in the hallway. Then that smell wafted into the room and a large black figure came over me and I was unable to move. I was beginning to panic, this couldn't be real, and I had to be dreaming it all.
I could see nothing but black as if I was unconscious but aware. I could feel his cold hands sliding up my thighs and pushing my legs apart. My blouse was torn open and I heard the buttons skittering across the room. My bra was roughly pulled down revealing my breasts to what I can only assume was a pair of icy lips. They sucked brusquely then the sharpness of teeth biting down and scraping against my nipples made me whimper. "Please don't let this be happening." I whispered to myself as I closed my eyes.
The torment on my nipples stopped and I felt my panties and nylons being yanked down. Then icy fingers shoved themselves deep inside my pussy, probing and twisting. What felt like a nearly frozen tongue stabbed at my clit and ran between the folds of my lips. As the frozen lips sucked hard on my clit I heard the sound of a zipper ripping through the silent room. I tried once again to move but it was as if large hands pinned my arms to the floor.
"Stop!" I heard a woman say. "You promised her to me."
I opened my eyes and was able to see again. Dunston was kneeling between my legs with his erect cock standing out from his fly. He looked frustrated, his eyes focused on something behind me. "I know, but..." he stammered.
"Were you going back on your word? We had a deal, I give you what you want and you give me what I want. I already have your soul." Said the woman. "Don't be so fucking stupid. I can rip you into so many pieces they would never be able to put you back together again."
"Why can't we both enjoy her?" he asked.
"You sold your soul when you summoned me. You knew the price you were paying and what the details were. Now remove yourself from my sight." She said.
Suddenly Dunston was thrown against the wall like a rag doll landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. The fear I felt was overwhelming, tears started to roll down my cheeks into my ears. My hair was stuck to my forehead in the cold sweat that formed on my brow. The shadow moved over me and transformed itself into the form of a woman.
She was beautiful and horrible at the same time. Her skin was translucent and had a bluish cast to it, her hair black as night but wild as if it were alive. Her eyes were the thing I remember the most, blue eyes that were so light they were almost white. She looked right through me and I tried to turn from her gaze. Rough hands began to roam my body. Her frozen touch burned at my skin.
"I've waited long enough for you. Don't worry I'll be gentle." She laughed.
A long dark tongue sprung from between her lips and snapped at my nipples like a whip. I cried out from the sting. It then moved up and traced the outline of my lips. I could smell the foulness of decay on her breath and held my own breathing in check. The tongue then moved into my mouth exploring and probing.
Without warning my legs were pulled up over her shoulders, lifting my ass off the ground. With the same whip like motion my clit was laved over and over until the snakelike member slowly entered me. Long and cold it forced its way deeper sending an electric shock through my body. Undulating inside me the intruder was relentless, my body gave into the assault and my whimpers turned into moans of pleasure. I could feel the orgasm rise and connect to every nerve in my body. It burst through with exquisite pain as the tongue stretched me wider filling me completely.
I had collapsed into unconsciousness and woke up to find myself alone. When I finally came to my senses I remembered the attack. Shivering, I pulled my tattered blouse around me and moved onto my side to try to lift myself up without using my bad leg. My head snapped back abruptly as a hand grasped my hair in its sharp nailed grip.
"We're not done yet," was, whispered hoarsely into my ear.
"Please don't. Let me go. I won't tell anyone." I cried.
"You're an offering to me. I can do as I wish to you. Who would believe your story anyway... that you were fucked by a demon?" she laughed.
Sharp nails raked across my ass as I was pushed up onto my knees and swiftly entered from behind. It was as if an icy hot poker was shoved up inside my pussy burying itself deep inside me. I found out the hard way that demons have possession of the distinction of both genders despite their outward appearance.
As the demon's member tore into my insides pummeling me relentlessly her tongue flicked against my ass. It could feel the pressure against my rectum as it easily slid into me filling me with a mix of pain and pleasure. My mind was beyond comprehending what was happening to me anymore. I tried to crawl away but the nails dug deeper into my thighs sending rivulets of blood dropping to the floor. My nipples were stiff and tingling from the cold air that came through the open ceiling. Snow had started to fall, creating a horrific snow globe scene.
The demons grunts became louder as she pounded into me harder, punishing me for trying to escape.
"You're a tight cunted bitch aren't you?" she hissed. "My cock can't take much more of this."
The she-devil gave one last thrust and let out an earsplitting howl as she came inside me in a geyser of molten ejaculate. The sound reverberated throughout the house shaking the foundation and as my own orgasm hit, that's when it happened.
The demon reached for a large thick icicle hanging from the gap in the ceiling and speared it right through my body pinning me to the ground. As the demon released herself from me she bent and whispered in my ear.
"Thank you for the best fuck I've had in centuries." Then she placed a tender hot kiss on my cheek.
The room grew cold as the snow fell silently around me. My arm was twisted and I could see the time pass away on my watch as the warmth of my blood pooled underneath me. 14 minutes and 32 seconds passed before I rose from my mortal body and floated upward. Looking down I could see what was once me lying in a crimson pool of steaming blood. Any signs of the attack had been cleared away and it looked as though I had met with a rather unfortunate end.
During the inquisition Dunston lied and concocted a story about my being involved with Black Magic. He would be the one to 'discover' my body. The rat bastard told them that was how he felt I was able to become so successful because my business ethics were lacking. My business ethics were lacking? It's almost laughable.
He tried to say I threatened to curse him if he didn't do my bidding. At times, he told the detective, I would talk to someone he couldn't see and mutter strange words over my files.
Detective Webster wasn't too sure about Dunston's story, she had been assigned to the case and didn't buy the Black Magic story. Twenty-two years on the force gave her the ability to read victims and this guy was hiding something. Something didn't feel right about this entire situation.
For over a week now the seasoned detective was fraught with the opinion that Dunston had something to do with my death, but what was the connection?
I was now bent on having my death exposed and my revenge exacted. Until I can figure out how, I linger between death and after death. I've briefly spent my time in Hell and it was time to move onward.