Fifteen times Fiftybyoggbashan©
Copyright Oggbashan October 2005
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
The following are 15 fifty-word stories with a Halloween theme. The title isn't counted.
The incubus' eyes glowed red as he surveyed the woman sprawled on the bed. His icy prick penetrated deep. Her eyes flashed open as her legs spread.
"At last you came..." she purred, nails digging in his scaly back.
He screamed as her body's heat melted his tool to water.
Alone in the marital bed he thrust hard into the doll left by his angry wife.
"This is all you need!" she'd hissed as she went back to mother.
A pop. The doll inverted.
He was thrusting out from within.
His screams unheard, sealed into plastic silence, he died.
The ghost walked the ghastly grange clanking its rusty chain.
The nun glided her silent way, clammy hands wringing incessantly.
The headless coachman splashed through the puddles splashing silver droplets.
The nameless horror squelched amidst dank cellars bestrewn with mould.
They met and all agreed.
"Foul weather for this season."
The new brain scan machine converted thought to speech. The accident victim barely alive, nurtured by equipment, was a suitable case.
The connections made, the technician switched on, adjusted sensitivity. He spoke.
"How are you?"
The loud speaker hissed and crackled.
"Turn it off!" the voice replied.
"I'm already dead..."
05. Kitchen Rats One
He pushed her back across the kitchen table, ripping her panties away.
She scrabbled in her apron pocket, grabbed the spring-blade, and thrust.
Her aim was perfect. Right through his heart.
His body slumped to the floor dragging her with him.
Paralysed, her neck broken, she heard the rats come.
06. Kitchen Rats Two
A wife and a mistress was enough. Two mistresses were too much.
All three pregnant, they lured him to the haunted house.
Trussed and gagged, he fainted as they cut his manhood away.
He came to as the scrabbling rats ate his severed genitals.
The rats followed the bloody trail...
Rapunzel was a demanding woman. Any man who failed to satisfy her after climbing her tower – she strangled with her hair and tossed his body out.
Her prince finally came. Rapunzel squealed with delight. He, disappointed, strangled her. He fucked then married the witch, now rejuvenated, free of Rapunzel's curse.
She came to him in dreams. She hovered above his passive form slowly sucking his life essence away.
He revelled in her touch, surrendering to her embrace.
Puzzled, one night she asked why he did not resist.
"I prefer death by fucking," he replied, "to my incurable cancer."
His wife was unfaithful with his best friend.
He decided to kill them both and commit suicide.
He confronted them in their lover's nest.
His gun wavered as he looked at their entwined bodies.
They persuaded him that sharing his love with two women was better. He dies twice each night.
He tied the maid to the kitchen table, wrists to the legs, rope across chest. He unfastened her bodice. His hands and lips caressed her breasts. He burrowed under her crinoline to lap at her pussy.
Their passion broke the table's legs. Strangled, she died. Smothered by skirts, he died too.
His sodden cloak hung clammily as he walked through the park.
A voice from the dark, cloaked like him.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The eyes held him entranced as the blood stained fangs reached for his neck. Cloaks can conceal horror.
Beware meeting the real vampire.
12. Blind Man's Buff
Blindfolded, he reached for his mistress's body. She squealed and ran away.
He blundered around the room in pursuit, following her gasping breath.
He tripped over and fell onto a yielding form.
Plucking the blindfold away he met her staring eyes.
Her husband's hands closed around the lover's throat and squeezed again.
He waited for the clock to strike thirteen. It was the signal for the revolution.
One, two, three...
He raised his fist in joy.
He turned to kiss his mistress and co-conspirator.
She raised her gun. Shot him.
"Useless in war, useless in bed," was all she said.
He tied her spread-eagled on the bed. He stuffed her mouth and gagged her tight.
Helpless, she watched as he peeled her costume away.
The doorbell rang. He cursed.
Despite his protests the police took him away.
In two hours her husband would be home.
How could she explain this?
The Devil left the Halloween party with four female vampires he had invited back to the flat he shared with three other men.
"It's a shame we have to shed the costumes until next year," he said.
"Costumes? What costumes?" they said, baring their teeth. Four men died happy.