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All Hallows Eve: "The Wood Carver"
by Violet Forever

The year was 1664, the night before All Hallows Eve. I thought it best to go to market that day. There were some last minute supplies I would need to have before dining.

I finished tying my apron strings and donning my bonnet and stepped outside into the chilly afternoon air. My, was it cold! The small peaks of my bosom pointed out of my blouse front a bit too much for my taste. I rubbed my palms over them a bit in a feeble attempt to bring them back down. Fie, what terrible timing this weather had! Certainly, there would be a frost tonight, I decided. It had held off for so long this year though, and everyone was prepared.

The journey was a short one for me, only five landmarks away: past the Jones farm, the Watson place, the old wood carver's shop, long since inhabited, the Umbersons, and the Horton's place. About an hour away, and I had an active imagination. Before I knew it the small shop was upon me.

I browsed a bit, but didn't want to dally long, for I could hear the sound of the wind picking up outside. My bones chilled at the thought and I cursed myself for not having brought a cloak while I'd had the chance.

As I placed the last of my supplies into my basket the feeling that eyes were upon me washed through my veins. Not wanting to appear possessed I controlled myself not to whip my head around to see. Instead I merely went about what I was doing. I brought my items to the counter and hailed the shopkeeper, Harol Watson.

"How are thee this blustery day young Helen!" Although old, Harol always had a smile to match his friendly demeanor.

Still carrying my twinge of paranoia about being watched, I didn't have much as a reply. "Aye, windy indeed sir and I am well."

He began to ask about how my sister and brothers were and my mother and father and other assorted questions. I could pay no heed though, because the feeling would not go away. Well, not until he asked one specific question, did I stand to complete attention.

"Oh, by the way Helen, have you met the new Wood Carver?"

"There is a new Wood Carver?" As I said this, my bones ceased to chill and a strong wind hurled into the storefront before the door slammed shut.

"Aye, that was he just leaving!" the plump storeowner claimed. "Ye just missed him."

Cursing inside for my earlier foolishness at not turning around (surely it had been him staring at me!) I replied casually, "Ah well, I suppose I will meet him sooner or later anyhow. Fare thee well Mister Watson and a blessing to you and yours."

"And to thee Miss Helen. His name do be Jared Wright if ye happen to need him."

Walking back out into what had quickly become evening, I regretted even more not having brought my cloak. The normally short journey home seemed frighteningly arduous and long. Every step I took seemed to bring greater power to the wind. Holding my basket close to me, I wrapped my arms tightly around my small body, in a meager attempt to ward the chilly wind. As the wind howled and my steps became more labored, the signs of nightfall came into full play.

"Fie, but why must I talk so much!" I cursed myself again. I had never been as God fearing as the rest of the folk in town. Oh, but I tried; yet it was hard for me. It was my duty to keep the devil out of my home but it was difficult when I enjoyed my impure thoughts so! I knew that I enjoyed cursing and I enjoyed the feeling I had with no clothing on. I enjoyed the possibility that a man might see what I had underneath my skirts. Most of all though, I just wanted to be touched. I knew that would not happen until I was married. Worse yet, I knew that the only purpose was not for pleasure, but for the purpose of making babes. I wasn't supposed to know of any of this but my cousin had passed through months ago and we'd talked for hours on end. She'd told me everything there was to know. She had told me the best places to touch. Ever since, I had been either possessed or... Well, that was the thing. I often wondered if perhaps what we all believed to be true was, dare I say... nonsense? It just didn't seem to make sense for one not to derive pleasure from something if it wasn't hurting anybody? Would a God really want such a thing to be so?

An incredibly strong gust of wind brought me back to the present. I made an attempt to conjure my surroundings. Unfortunately, I hadn't gone far; walking into such strong winds had slowed me down even more than I had realized. I was barely past the Umberson place!

Suddenly without a warning, it began to rain. Harder and harder the rain fell until I could no longer see. The powerful and forceful winds picked up more than I could bear and I could push into them no longer. I fell, gasping for breath.

Instead of hitting the wet, muddy ground, I was caught at the waist by a very strong grip. I felt myself lifted up and draped over what must have been a shoulder, despite its hardness. From there I am not quite sure of the exact events for the next few moments because it was then that I lost conscientiousness.

I wasn't out for long. I awoke to blackness but could hear sound. I was still a bit weakened, but I felt around feebly with my fingers. It felt like hay beneath me, and a lot of it. I was on a bed of hay! Some of the blackness faded as a lantern was lit.

I felt certain I was in a stable. I wondered to myself if it was the old wood carver's stable. I started to gain my vision back a bit and tried to look around but became startled when I looked up.

A man finished hanging the lantern and proceeded to squat down in front of me. "Are you the new woodcarver?" I questioned. He nodded.

In the soft glow of the lantern I could make out his face, which was unusually handsome. I watched him, watching me. His eyes were the most beautiful eyes I had seen on a man. They were brown, but a lighter brown, a softer brown. I felt entranced.

"So, you're n-name i-is Jared?" I stuttered. He nodded.

I then became conscious that I was alone, with a man, and that I was soaking wet and shivering. I tried to remedy the situation as quickly as possible so that my thoughts would not overtake me.

"Well, Mister Wright, I am truly grateful for your kindness. I shall treasure it always. It is terribly awful weather we are having this night. I ought to be getting back before my family worries about me. I thank thee humbly and should there be a way I can repay your kindness, please allow me to pay whatever meager amount I may have." I ceased my prattling and decided to take my leave.

I eyed my basket in the corner, but as I began to get up to grab it I winced in pain. My back was in a terrible state! I'd likely injured it while falling. Jared placed a massive hand upon my back and eased me back down onto the hay, carefully turning me over. Surprisingly, I did not resist as his strong, nimble fingers removed my rain soaked blouse and unlaced my saturated, back-tying bodice.

Before I knew it, all of my over and underclothes were gone. I felt completely exposed in the glow of the lantern. I shivered from more than just the cold and he brought me a stout woolen blanket. He covered my legs and buttocks, leaving my back exposed. The feel of his hands upon my back sent a chill through my spine. I soon relaxed though, as his knuckles began working their way along my smooth skin, clammy from the dampness.

As if like magic, the pain in my back was whittled away, a little at a time. I started to feel better and better and without warning I released a low moan. When I did, I felt something hard against my leg. I thought nothing of it. Perhaps it was a rock of some sort. I allowed myself to continue relaxing, even as his amazing fingers boldly streamlined down my back and underneath the blanket. I could feel moisture dribbling out from between my legs and grew a little self-conscious. I placed my palms on the hay in an attempt to get up and stop him but he brought a large hand onto my back and steadied me back down. I didn't protest again, nor did I really want to.

I started to feel flustered and relaxed at the same time. I was confused. I knew what my body needed but didn't know if he had the same intentions.

The way he sculpted my body was incredible. I felt like clay ... or wood. He was carving my body, until I was shaped as he willed me to be. He was my master and I, his puppet.

Before I knew it, he was turning me over once more. It was then that I became aware that he was also naked. I did not remember him removing his clothes but quite apparently, he had. He encompassed one of my feet into his hands and masterfully began to work his way upward. Feeling extremely warm and yearning for more, I arched my back in pleasure and anticipation. As I did so my small bosom heaved, my little peaks pointed heavenward. My open mouth revealed my immense gratification to this man, this hauntingly remarkable man. I wanted him so badly to touch me where I was wet. His hands came so close to my wetness, I could almost taste it. I was so ready.

And then my other foot was between his hands and he started over again. I moaned with a combination of pleasure and frustration and lifted my head in confused agony to look at him. I could see his furrowed brow. He was in complete control of himself and appeared to be in deep concentration. His patient and focused care made me fully aware that he was a master of his trade. I was his artwork, and he was an artist.

I lost my last bit of sanity at that moment and softly managed a tiny, whispered "please?" He released my foot and fixated himself upon my ready expression. I nearly trembled at his perusal of me.

The last chill I would feel with him swept over me as those caring, intelligent eyes shifted, if only for a moment to something just a little bit wicked, a hint of sinister. His evil grin caused me to shudder. I brought my arms up to my bosom, but they fell back at my sides as he eased himself slowly upon me. He slowly, carefully, tenderly drew his hands along the curves of my body and parted my legs. The crushing feel of his nakedness upon me hit like a tidal wave. I didn't care. I was succumbed by desire. I was both weak and strong at once. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around him as he parted my delicate, dew moistened, flower petal folds. I was ripened with hot anticipation.

I don't know how he knew, but he became gentle and concerned, almost fatherly then. He entered me, little by little. Just when I thought I couldn't handle more, he gave me more, and again, and again. Soon, I cried out in a combination of pain and pleasure. I didn't know how to feel, but I gave in to the sensation. My swollen folds became luscious counterparts to his fiery weapon. My tender peaks were pressed against his hardened, rock like chest. I could scarcely breath, and yet we continued on. I could not restrain myself vocally and did not bother to try. I closed my eyes and fully allowed the sounds to fall forth from my parted lips. They were not long lasting though, for I was quieted when his hard mouth pressed down upon mine. The pleasure increased along with the rhythm. He began to grunt as I bucked my hips to receive him over and over. My legs wrapped around him tighter and I bucked harder for I could not get enough. My agony worsened as I began to ache for something akin to a tidal wave to come. I had to reach that point or I would burst. I yearned for satisfaction, for ultimate gratification, and I knew he felt the same.

He then lost all rhythm and slammed into my body with full force, creating an element of madness in the air. As I was overcome with the power of it all, time stood still. For a very long moment, we both simply bathed in that glorified instant. The, he collapsed on top of my still quivering body and we lay there, naked, with the dank smell of our bodily fluids hanging still in the air of night. I was in a state of shock and bliss, even as he rolled off of me and sat up. I slowly opened my eyes and felt his arms slide tenderly under my body, lifting me to him. Holding me close he began to hum an eerie tune as he rocked me, gently, lulling me to sleep.

When I opened my eyes, I felt anticipation knowing I would have the opportunity to gaze into those awe-inspiring eyes. Instead, I was struck by the familiar smell of bread baking. I arose and went over to where my sister was baking bread.

"Well, it is about time you woke up, Helen!" she berated. "You had us all worried last night! Lucky for you Mister Watson's son found you out in the rain and carried you home!" she wagged her finger at me.

"Mister Watson's son?" I inquired, confused. "What about the wood carver? What happened to him?"

She gave me a puzzled look. "Eh? Deary you were either hit upon the head a bit too hard or you are possessed by the devil. I should hope it was a big rock! The new wood carver does not arrive until next week! Everyone knows that!""No, no he is here! I know it!" I pleaded. "I just SAW him last night! Ask Mister Watson!"

"Mister Watson passed away yesterday morn," she replied sadly. "I am sorry that you did not know."

Confused, I went off to prepare for the eve to come, All Hallows Eve. It was then that I noticed the feeling in the midst of my bosom. Pulling on a thick, woolen cloak, I sprinted outside into the frigid air and ran behind a tree. Reaching into my top I felt something hard and pulled it out.

The accuracy of the tiny carving of my naked body left me beyond impressed. I have decided to keep it under my pillow... until I can see him again.

 

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