Raven of the City: A Christmas Tale

Holy shit, he thinks as his palm squeezes her nude mound,this bitch is smooth as a baby!

Chuck fingers her clitoris as Melanie rides him ever faster. Liquid heat gathers in his groin like a bubbling pool of lava. Chuck decides to use her every which way he can tonight, begin working on the guilt tomorrow. For now, though, he is about to burst inside her slick canal. His back arches, eyes closing as he feels the geyser roaring up his shaft.

It’s then, Melanie stops.

A moment passes, then another. Chuck reaches for Melanie’s ass to hammer into her, to relieve the unbearable pressure. Yet, even as he does, he feels something changing.

Suddenly, Melanie’s tunnel feels mushy, almost like skin sloughing off. Chuck opens his eyes.

And screams.

The young woman is gone. In her place is someone Chuck barely recognizes through wrinkles of mottled skin and sparse, wild hair, hollow sockets where her eyes should be. But he knows who she is, without doubt. She’s just as he imagines she would look after five years in the grave.

“Grandma,” he croaks.

“You’ve been a bad boy,” cackles the ghoulish creature astride him. “Yes, indeed. A bad, bad boy.”

Chuck’s cock deflates. He frantically tries to push whatever the hell it is off of him. But the grip of her thighs is too strong. And the hold she has on him, inside of her, is like a vise.

She reaches over to the nightstand and snags the small prop Bible he keeps there. “Didn’t I bring you up better than this?” she demands, slapping his head with the leather bound book. “Didn’t I raise you to respect Gawd?”

Tears of terror streak his face as he shrieks at her to go away, his raised arms trying to deflect her assault.

She leans forward on him, her drooping dugs squishing like slimy bean bags against his chest. “What’s the matter, Chuckie, don’t you have a kiss for your Grandma?” she croons, her breath the stench of the sepulchre. She forces his lips apart and wriggles what tastes like rotted liver in his mouth.

Chuck gags as she pushes off of him, her talon like nails digging deep into his chest, flaying his skin. Chuck feels like she has left pieces of her tongue in his mouth. He vomits violently.

She pops off him just in time to avoid the projectile puke.

“You’re going to hell for that, Chuckie,” she grins with a ragged fence of yellowed teeth.

Whimpering, he tries to crawl away, all but swimming in the remains of his dinner. A hand tangles itself in his hair and drags him back.

“Yes, Chuckie,” he hears. “You are going to hell. And here is the first taste of it!”

With an inexorable grip, Chuck’s face is forced toward a vagina looking and smelling like the gates of Hell. He struggles to get free, but cannot break away. His eyes dilate at what he sees and his hoarse breathing becomes a strangled cry at the sight of her cunt. Then his mouth is shoved against her. He tastes the dead flesh, juices like rotten sewage, feels the maggots crawling down his throat even as he sinks into an unconsciousness where the dreams only get worse.

The snow ends about midnight, a thick wrapping over the city. Through most of the city there is an uncanny silence. Only emergency vehicles can be heard, whispering through the shrouded streets, the occasional siren sounding like a distant banshee.

“Dispatch, this is Unit 23. We’ve checked out that disturbance over on Vine. Some guy wandering around naked blabbering about dead people and eating maggots and such. We’re bringing him in, but, geez, he smells like puke.”

From a nearby alley, eyes, no longer hidden by contacts, watch the officers shove a crazed, shivering Brother Chuck into their car and drive off. They are eyes as dark as the space beyond stars and perhaps as ancient. They are eyes that reflect nothing, but seem to absorb everything.

The creature smiles, thinly. It fed well this evening on the invader’s sexual energy and managed to eliminate a threat to what the creature considersits territory by using the human’s own deep seated fears against him. Before morning, the creature will transform into its other mode, the one most resembling a human male. And tomorrow, as Raven, will pass the word to those upon whom it feeds and protects, that another would be pimp is gone.

Copyright 2001 © Royce Sykes