Ancient Love At Midnight

"I love you," Bill said fervently, pulling her closer to him. His cock, never much deflated, rose to achingly erect again, and he desperately longed to bury it inside her.

She seemed to read his mind. She cupped the end of his manhood with her cool hand. "We can't do that until the next full moon. But we can do this as often as we like."

She reversed positions and took his cock in her mouth again. Bill found that her fragrant pubic patch was easily accessible to his tongue, and they lavished attention on each other until Grandmother Sun kissed the western horizon.

The following years had flown past. They'd known good times and lean times, but they had spent every night in each other's arms until one night he had fallen asleep and woken up in this cold, foreign place . . . without the only comfort that made his life worth living.

Bill lapsed into deep slumber, past the World of Dreams and nearly to the Nightland. He knew he was nearing his final destination, and he was ready for it. During each period of deep sleep, he dragged his crippled body west a few feet at a time, determined to end his suffering no matter what might lay on the other side of the abyss. His greatest hope was that Anna would be there waiting for him and together they would deal with whatever challenges lay ahead, as they always had since they were little more than children.

The hours dragged by as Bill painfully inched across a cold, rocky landscape toward the darkness. He was unaware of the attendants flitting in and out of his room at intervals, considerate enough to leave their little paper cups of poison on his tray without waking him.

At long last he came to a place where the land began to slope downward, and he was able to tuck his arms in and roll. Soon he built up enough momentum to keep rolling, faster and faster, the tendrils of darkness, palpable nothingness, curling out to meet him.

Suddenly, he was on his feet, standing strong and steady, the mist curling about him. He had an overwhelming sense that Anna was near. He called to her and heard his voice echo through invisible canyons and corridors. He edged forward into the darkness a few feet and called again. Had he heard a faint echoing response?

The emptiness closed around him, but in the distance he saw a welcoming light.

Part Three: The Ball

Director Burns surveyed the "ballroom" with satisfaction. Most of the cafeteria tables and chairs had been folded up and stowed away. His staff had decorated with orange and black crepe paper, pumpkin lanterns, and ghosts made of worn-out bedsheets.

Attendance was mandatory for all the ambulatories and staff, of course. He felt the chance to bond in social situations was of critical value. Some of the staff members brought husbands, wives, or dates, and he insisted that everyone have some kind of costume.

Most of the residents had to make do with cheap paper eye masks and foolish-looking party hats, but some of the staff had come up with interesting costumes. A few were so good Burns wasn't sure who the people were.

He went to the staff punch bowl and ladled himself a drink. Whoa! It tasted like 90% vodka. He would have to speak to someone about watering it down a little. He tossed off his drink and dipped out another.

The high school band he had hired for the occasion began playing a slow number from the 1960s and couples came together on the floor. Even a few of the residents shuffled out and embraced each other. As the singer crooned of eternal love, another boy announced, "Count down to Witching Hour, folks! Ten, nine, eight . . ."

The guests counted with him, and at 'zero' the drummer struck a gong.

The room fell silent as the sound reverberated. Burns thought he felt an icy breeze pass over him and looked around suspiciously. Had someone managed to open a window? He decided it must have been his imagination working overtime and resumed watching the party guests. Now there was someone he didn't remember seeing before.

At one end of the room stood a man dressed as some sort of primitive Indian. His long, thick black hair must have been a wig, because Burns didn't know anyone with hair like that. He had no mask, but his face was painted jet black on one side and bright red on the other, with his eye sockets ringed in white.

His muscular chest was painted with arcane symbols in red and black, and he wore a fringed apron over leggings of buckskin.

He must be with one of the Staff, Burns thought. I wonder what lucky girl is going to be crawling into bed with him tonight?

He was interested in finding out since he considered it his duty to be aware of who was doing what to whom and tried to make scheduling decisions with that in mind. It didn't do to put lusty couples together on the night shift. It had led to extremely awkward situations in the past.

He watched the man standing quietly at the edge of the crowd, apparently scanning the room looking for someone. Suddenly he began wending his way toward the other side of the room, the press of bodies parting to allow him past.

Burns tried to see where he was headed. There was a small knot of people drinking and laughing. Perhaps one of them? No. There. A woman stood just inside the entrance to the east corridor, seemingly hesitant to enter the room. She was dressed in an old-fashioned Cherokee tear dress of blue and white cotton, decorated with satin ribbons. Her thick braid fell to below her waist, and she wore a hairpipe choker.

That had to be the Indian man's date, but he still didn't recognize either of them. Surely they couldn't be residents. Relatives of residents, perhaps? If so, they should have been introduced to him. He would have to speak to someone about that.

The band struck up "Spooky," and the couple met in the middle of the dance floor, coming naturally into each other's arms with the ease of long familiarity. The lights dimmed, but they seemed almost to glow with an ethereal light, and as they moved through the steps of some ancient dance the other dancers drew back and stood in a circle, watching.

As the music ended the woman fell back in the man's arms, and he bent her backwards and kissed her on the lips.

The crowd sighed with pleasure and someone began to clap. Instantly, the room resounded with applause.

And . . . cut!/ Burns thought happily. It was time to wrap this affair up and put the old folks to bed. It was a fine way to end the party, and some of them might even remember it for a day or two. Now what had happened to the mystery couple?

Burns scanned the room anxiously. He really wanted to meet them.

Part Four: Anna and Bill

As enthusiastic applause still rattled the windows, Bill took Anna's hand and led her past the crowd and into the shadows of the west corridor. Wordlessly, she flung her arms around his neck, pushed him against a wall, and clung to him, kissing his mouth frantically.

"Where do you want to go?" Bill asked when he caught his breath.

Anna giggled. "You asked me that once before. The day you gave me Little Tom."

"Your father's fishing arbor. I'd like to take you there now, but I'm not sure how to get there."

"Nor am I. We'll just have to make do the best we can. Let's go outside!"

They hurried to the exit door at the end of the corridor and burst out into the frosty night air. Anna shivered. "You must be freezing to death without even a shirt on!"

"You'll have to keep me warm," Bill said, and they dashed across the sparkling lawn to the shelter of a grove of cedars where they settled into a soft nest of dry leaves. Their clothing dissolved, leaving them naked in each other's arms. As their bodies merged with familiar joyous recognition, their souls came together also, swarming like fireflies. Glowing red and black, they spiraled trailing long tails of light, wound together, then entwined into one sinuous beam of energy that sped upward into the night sky.

Part Five: The Morning After

Director Burns was at his desk bright and early the morning after the big Halloween bash. He liked to get to work before the day shift came on, while it was still quiet and he could review his plans for the day.

Today, of course, the mess in the cafeteria would have to be cleaned up before lunch time. That was first on the agenda. Hopefully, no one had died in the night. That was always an annoyance and extremely disruptive to his scheduling. He should be getting a report from the night shift Head Nurse any time now.

A knock sounded at his door and Ray, the night security guard, poked his head around the door. "Mister Burns?"

"Come in, Ray. Shut the door. Any problems last night? Anybody get rowdy?"

"Two of 'em got out," Ray said, his voice lowered confidentially. "I don't know when, but I found 'em just now, down in the cedar glade. And it kind of looks like they might of froze to death. They're dead as can be, anyway."

Burns thought he might vomit. He swallowed the saliva that gushed into his mouth and fought for control. When his nausea subsided, he said, "Did you identify the bodies?"

"Yeah. The guy's bracelet said 'Goingsnake' and the woman's said 'Rattlingourd.' And, Boss? When they died, they was bare ass nekkid and doin' it." Ray coughed, then brayed laughter.

"Sorry. Sorry," he gasped. "I know it shouldn't be funny, but God! Those two old fuckers . . ." He giggled helplessly.

"Control yourself!" Burns barked. He took a folder from the corner of his desk and leafed through it. "Goingsnake . . . hmm . . . yes, here he is. William Goingsnake, age approximately 100 years. Paralyzed on left side due to stroke. No specific D.O.B. on record. No known next of kin. That's good, anyway."

He turned to another page. "Rattlingourd, Anna. Again no specific D.O.B., also believed to be approximately 100 years of age. Both legs amputated above the knee due to diabetic complications. No next of kin."

Burns began to feel calmer and took a long sip of his coffee. "Alright, Ray. Listen carefully, now. I don't want to have to put something in your file about how two residents wandered away undetected during your shift last night."

Ray stopped giggling.

"So I'm going to pretend I never heard any of this. The next report I receive should indicate that all residents are in their own beds and sadly two of them died in the night of natural causes. We will then call the doctor to pronounce them. There will be no awkward questions. Are you clear on that, Ray?"

"Yeah, but . . . how am I supposed to get them back in here—"

"I should think a laundry cart would be useful. I don't want to know the details though."

"I just can't figure out how they got down there," Ray said. "Both of 'em crippled like that . . ."

"It never happened, Ray. Now you've got work to do, and so do I, so let's hop to it, alright?"