Skin Like Silk

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Notice: some tags dealing with dark topics have been omitted in this listing for the sake of preserving dramatic tension.

The story doesn't contain any descriptions of sex or graphic violence, though violence and torment are major themes.

This story explores fear, torment, corruption, and loss of self identity. I originally meant for it to contain sex, but it just didn't fit. What came out instead was an exploration of some of the things that I find most compelling in erotic horror, but it is almost certainly not going to be erotic to everyone. My focus here is more on transformation through adversity, than torture or cruelty for its own sake, as the latter doesn't interest me.

I welcome feedback, especially constructive criticism. Thanks for reading!

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A dark mood was brewing in Alicia Castillo's mind, a perfect match for the coffee brewing in the KitchenAid on her counter. It was barely 8 AM, but already she had a suspicion that it was going to be one of those days that makes you wish you could have just slept through to the next one. She considered calling in sick, but decided against it, her boss was already making her work Saturday and taking a day off would only make things worse.

She'd gone to bed early last night but couldn't get to sleep, tossing and turning for hours. When her alarm went off this morning it felt as if she's just closed her eyes, and she hated being short on sleep. Work was going to be hectic as usual, the office had been in panic mode all week as the Downtown Business Alliance prepared for the big labor day parade that happened every year. To make things worse she was out of orange juice and yogurt, meaning her usual breakfast routine was throughly disrupted, and vague recollections of some disturbing dream kept popping into her head unwanted, then vanishing into smoke before she could figure out what the dream had been. Something about being watched by something evil, or watching something evil, or being an evil watch, she didn't remember.

Half an hour and two toaster waffles later she was turning the key in her ignition, cup of coffee in hand, and taking off down her long driveway like a race horse leaping from the gate. The trees were changing colors early this year, still two days until September and already the canopy was starting to show streaks of yellow and red, but Alicia didn't bother to notice. She'd lived in New York for seven years now, and she was more concerned with the twenty minute drive to town, and the glowing dashboard clock which now read 8:39.

In a classic turn of bad luck, parking was particularly elusive this morning. Arriving late, she had barely gotten in the door when two people leaped forward calling her name, and proceeded to try to pull her in two directions at once. Within minutes the irritations of her morning routine were lost and buried beneath a heap of important tasks and looming deadlines. By the time she was getting back in her car, significantly after 5, she was mentally exhausted and looking forward to a quiet bath and an easy dinner.

Easy dinner ultimately came down to low-fat frozen cuisine. It wasn't exactly satisfying, but the bath that followed it surely was. It wasn't until she was standing in her bedroom in a bath towel that she remembered her troubled dreams the night before. She felt some trepidation none the less as she climbed under the covers--work was hard enough right now, even with a good night's sleep. But her bed looked wonderfully comfortable and peaceful, and within moments her eyes closed and she slipped into slumber.

***

Wandering, lost, tired, through black woods. The trees towered, and silently wept as they stretched toward the starry sky, looking for purpose. Someone followed her now, staying out of sight, lashing the trees, tormenting them. She looked around, and saw to the left that the trees had lurched into order, forming a long, long corridor with no end and no exit. Fear, now. She looked back, but it was too late. To the right was another wall of wood, and she was stuck. She began to run, calling out for help, but the only answer was the echoes of her own voice, and the whispering of her pursuer. They had her now. She didn't know who, it didn't matter, there were no choices to make any more. Only running forward, toward whatever fate was planned for her. Like a rat in a maze.

***

Morning found Alicia sweaty, tangled in her sheets. She rose grudgingly. Her eyes were crusty and her neck hurt, and she felt as if she hadn't slept more than a few hours. Her dream was more vivid this time. The same thing, over and over, and each time she hoped it would end differently but each time it had been the same awful certainty that she was not in control. Work didn't help matters, and a lingering sensation of being trapped, boxed in by someone else's rules, stuck stubbornly with her. Excesses of coffee kept her awake, but gave her the jitters, and she had a throbbing headache by the end of the day.

Back at home that evening, the idea of food didn't even appeal to her. The only thing she wanted was a long bath. The quiet and the comforting warmth provided her the first measure of peace she felt like she'd had since her bath the previous night. She'd planned to sort some mail and pay some bills tonight, but she couldn't muster the willpower to rise from the tub until the water had cooled to nearly room temperature. When she finally did, she was too tired to do anything more than straighten her twisted sheets and climb under them.

***

Walking through the streets of an unknown city, the buildings empty and dark. All around were people, but they were blind to her presence, trapped in a deep sleep from which she knew there was no escape. Some stood dumbly on the sidewalks, eyes closed, breathing slowly, others sprawled behind the wheels of lifeless cars. She was ravenously hungry, but none of them woke to help her find a meal. In her frustration she struck one, but seeing him tumble to the ground like a rag doll was even worse than his silence, and she quickly moved on. Finally she spied a supermarket down the street, lit by only a few failing lights, and just like that she was inside wandering the isles. She reached for an apple and bit into it hungrily, but all she tasted was oily, flaking ash. Screaming in frustration she spit out a mouthful of powder, and grabbed a tomato from an adjacent rack. It was plump and smelled ripe, but her first bite yielded only a thin, rotting pulp. Weeping in frustration she wandered the isles, sweeping cans from the shelves and tearing open bags of bread and frozen peas, but everything she tried turned to waste on her tongue, and in the pit of her stomach her hunger gnawed ever more fiercely.

***

She woke, mouth foul with dried saliva, pillow wet with drool. Her headache was back, this time a sharp stabbing at the base of her skull. She opened her eyes to look at her clock, but a dark shape looming in the pre-dawn murk outside her window caught her eye first.

Briefly, she thought it was a face, as dark as the trees behind. It had a short, powerful snout and was framed in long, narrow, pointed ears. The edges of the shape were vague, blurry, but the eyes were just an empty blackness, like holes in the night, and she knew they watched her. Fear shot down her spine and chilled her to the bone, and she screamed. As suddenly as she'd seen it, it was gone. Her scream trailed off uncertainly and she blinked, watching the spot, but nothing reappeared. Just the dark shapes of trees silhouetted against the slightly-less-dark background of the sky. She looked at her clock carefully, afraid to take her eyes off the window for long. '6:17', the glowing display told her.

When the gremlin failed to reappear after several minutes, and no suspicious sounds troubled her further, she finally decided she hadn't been fully awake yet. It had only been a dream. Exhausted, she laid down again and closed her eyed, but sleep didn't come, only the image of the face she'd seen. She considered calling in sick again, but she resolved to get up anyways since laying in bed wasn't making her feel any better.

She was hungry this morning, and she had plenty of time after showering and dressing, so she made herself a scramble with some frozen hash browns, and was pleased to find that they tasted exactly as they should. Feeling heartened after a greasy, diner-style breakfast, she gathered up her keys thinking maybe she'd go in to work early. She'd get the coffee started so she could get her fill before everyone else came looking, and get some extra work done.

Stepping outside deflated her confidence neatly. Something savage had happened to her car. Three tires were blown out, and shredded beyond explanation. Two windows were cracked, and long scratches and dents marred the doors and the hood. She shivered and looked around, suddenly feeling unsafe. Retreating quickly to the warmth and safety of her house, she sat down at her dining room table again and stared at the salt shaker blankly for a few moments. The pain in her head swelled as if it were feeding off her fear, and she felt like there was a heavy stone on her chest.

Fishing her phone out of her purse she called work, and informed the message machine she was having a personal emergency, and she wouldn't be able to make it today. After that she called her insurance company and informed them that she wanted to file a claim, making a vague statement about a freak natural disaster. Next was a tow service. Two hours, the said. She sighed heavily and put her phone down, then went to get some ibuprofen.

She was closing the medicine cabinet, pill bottle in hand, when she thought she saw a dark silhouette in the reflection of the small bathroom window. A cold chill shot down her spine, and she whirled to look but saw nothing. Hurrying back into the kitchen, she picked up her phone, and stared at it for a moment. Her first instinct was to call the police, but she thought better of it. It was just nerves and sleep deprivation. She considered several options, then flipped open her phone and made a call.

"Carrie... It's Alicia. I'm so sorry to call you this early. No. I mean I'm fine, I'm just having a rough few days. Look, I'm calling in to work today. Yeah. No, I haven't been sleeping, I'm kind of a wreck right now. No, I'm okay, just... The craziest thing happened. My car got mauled by a bear or something. Last night. I don't know what time. Yeah, I called a tow truck but they're going to be a while, and I don't know if it's safe here. Look, I'm sorry to ask, but do you think you could drive out here? I feel like I'm going to have a breakdown. Work, I think... Things have been hectic, you know, with the big day coming up. That would be great. I'll make breakfast, or something. Thank you so much, I owe you one. How long? Sure, great, see you soon."

The next forty five minutes passed in ominous stillness, during which Alicia could not keep her mind from wandering. Her dream had faded from her memory by now, but images and impressions kept resurfacing without context, causing her an unquantifiable discomfort. She listened intently to the stillness that filled the house, unsure what she was listening for. Her instincts murmured that something disastrous was about to happen, but she couldn't find a reason why.

Finally, she heard an engine and the crunch of fallen leaves under tires, and she shook herself out of her reverie. She turned on the porch light, but refused to open the door until her friend knocked, and she peeked out to be sure it was in fact her. Satisfied she opened the door and Carrie stepped inside, yawning and smiling halfheartedly. Ingredients were gathered and a second round of breakfast cooking began. Much to her surprise, Alicia cooked and ate a second breakfast for herself. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until the eggs were in the pan again. Her friend looked as if she wanted to tease her over it, but she restrained herself. As they ate Carrie asked for more details. Had she heard anything? How did she know it was a bear? Was anything else damaged? Alicia really had no interest in dwelling on it, and avoided answering as much as possible.

Shortly after cleanup was complete the gravelly diesel roar of a large truck engine came creeping up the driveway, and was followed a minute later by a quick honk. The two women went outside and found the driver already lining up with the back wheels of the mauled vehicle. Before long Alicia's car was loaded and on the way to the shop, and the women were climbing into Carrie's small Mazda. An hour later they stood in Carrie's living room, in an urban second-story flat.

The friend yawned again, and headed for the shower. Sitting on the couch, Alicia realized she hadn't considered her plans from here on out very extensively. She didn't relish the idea of going home any time soon, with some sort of wild animal loose in the woods, but she hadn't packed for overnight, much less for an extended stay, and besides she wasn't even sure if Carrie had room for her.

Her impromptu host emerged from the shower at length, and started getting ready for work. Alicia tried to bring up the subject of her staying over, but no appropriate opening presented itself, and in short order she was left to her own devices. As it turned out, her own devices were rather limited, in uptown Wilsonville without a car. The day passed slowly, and all the little reasons she didn't live in town started to come back to her in the form of muffled voices coming through the walls and the smell of exhaust coming through the windows and more. By the time Carrie came home little of interest had happened except a call from the body shop citing a preliminary estimate for repairs, and Alicia was dramatically bored. Not wanting to seem ungrateful she tried to hide her misgivings, and suggested that the two of them might go out for dinner and a drink, and make the most of the unexpected visit. Carrie had other ideas however, citing tiredness in a voice that hinted that Alicia bore at least some of the blame. False enthusiasm dampened, Alicia at least managed to extract permission to sleep on the couch, which fortunately contained a hide-a-bed. Sleep didn't come easy to her, the bed was uneven and hard, and the sounds of urban comings and goings made her miss the solitude of the country.

The next morning Alicia's friend was in a better mood. They ate breakfast together and drove down to the nearest rental agency so Alicia could rent a car, before going their separate ways for work. She expected to answer a slew of questions about her absence the day before, but no one had the time for small talk. The hands crawled around the clock and the day seemed to drag on interminably. She couldn't concentrate, her mind kept wandering back to her car, the autumn colors in the trees around her house, the dark face in the window, and the disturbing dreams she could hardly recall. She was ravenous by lunch and she went down the block to a cafe, unwilling to risk being teased by her coworkers for eating so much. She wondered what could be causing her appetite, but nothing came to mind. The afternoon was no better, and by the time she was getting in her car to leave she was filled with an urge to do something, anything, that would bring a little change of pace. She called Carrie, and suggested dinner out. Alicia would pay. She fumed in rush-hour traffic, and arrived at the agreed-upon restaurant ten minutes late. They shared orders of chicken chow mein and spicy hoisin pork and the entire time Alicia felt a dissatisfied restlessness. This pace wasn't enough of a change for her. Maybe it was time to cash out some vacation hours.

She suggested catching a movie, but Carrie just laughed and declined. She had other business to attend to, and she had to get home. She didn't want to go through another night in Wilsonville, and as much as the idea of going home seemed like it should be frightening, she found herself longing for the quiet and the forest and nights not lit by the yellow miasma of street lights.She told Carrie she didn't want to impose on her any more and thanked her for the rescue. They parted ways again, and she considered going home but ultimately decided against it. Driving towards downtown with no real idea of where she was going, she eventually found herself parking outside of a seedy, smoky-looking dive that was apparently named "COCKTAILS". Her better sense chided her for being reckless and irresponsible, but it didn't stop her from going in. She sat at the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. She was nearly halfway through her drink before some slightly scummy, burnt-out looking 40-something sat next to her (conspicuously -- the bar was largely unoccupied) and favored her with a worn-thin plastic smile. She took a large gulp of her drink and choked it down with a grimace, then mumbled something about going to the juke box. She wasn't sure if the guy figured out that this dump didn't have a juke box before she made it out the door, but she made it unmolested regardless. With a furtive look around and a guilty conscience she started her rental and pulled out onto the road back towards home. She drove slow, regretting her decision to stop at the bar and looking for a park where she could stop and walk off some of her drink, but it was growing dark and all she found was a collection of other drivers who expressed their displeasure by tailgating her and occasionally honking.

She arrived home mentally fatigued from the gin and from checking her mirrors for cops. The sound of the wind in the treetops was a balm to soothe her jittery nerves, and all she wanted to think of was climbing into bed and turning the lights off. She parked the car along the side of her house, intuitively avoiding the spot where her own vehicle had been wrecked, and made straight for her bedroom. The window was open a crack. She didn't remember leaving it open, but the screen was in place and she didn't dwell on it. She was about to shut the window, but the sound of the woods filtering in caught her attention, and she changed her mind and undressed and climbed under her covers. Sleep found her quickly tonight.

She woke with a start, her heart beating quickly. Something had awoken her suddenly, but she wasn't sure what. As her pulse calmed she became aware that she was hungry and cold, and needed to have some quality time with the toilet. The clock told her it was 4:52. With a sigh she climbed out of bed, and immediately the floor twisted under her feet as vertigo played hell with her sense of balance. She stumbled once and almost fell back on the bed, but quickly adjusted, and made her way to the bathroom.

She was finishing up, washing her hands in the sink, when she noticed something strange. The bathroom window appeared to be obscured with leaves. Unless she was mistaken, she'd normally be able to see the rental car parked beside the house. Something was wrong.

Pulling her robe tighter and finding her slippers, she made for the living room and turned on the porch light. Cautiously opening the front door, she stepped outside into the cold night air with a deep sense of foreboding. Biting back a growing nervousness, she tiptoed off the porch and around the corner of the house.It took her a moment to realize that the large shadowy mass that faced her was a gum tree, laid out almost perfectly from one bumper to the other across the car. The roof looked crushed, and she could tell the windows were shattered out. Unnerved, she shuddered involuntarily and started back into the house. She closed the front door and leaned against it for a moment, made a decision to leave the porch light on, then headed for the bedroom to close the window. That done, she had paused and was debating whether it was worth going out to the kitchen to look for a snack when a loud *thump* from the living room made the house shudder.