The Trap of Flesh

I was 12 -- it was 1983 and I was trick or treating for what would become the last time. My little troop and I stood in front of the large, three story house that occupied a lonely stretch of land on the corner of Western and Avalon. The house was only a few neighbourhoods away from the town's core, but it might have been in a whole other kingdom. Tall, slim iron bars topped with pointy ends surrounded the house. The house itself was covered in red bricks the colour of dried blood and the side opposite the sunrise crawled with long vines, sinewy like angry snakes.

I was accompanied by goblins and vampires -- I was dressed like the scamp from the old black and white movies. The gang decided that because I wore a coat and tie, I was perfectly attired to approach the Piege house. Everybody said the people who lived there must be friends with the old ghosts that haunted the place -- but us kids, we knew. We knew there were only the ghosts.

With a mouth full of pop rocks for courage, I walked past the tall, gaping maw of the house's iron gate and walked towards the looming front door. I looked over my shoulder and my troop was waving at me and pointing towards the carved pumpkins that adorned the tops of the spikes surrounding the house -- like heads. My eyes were playing tricks on me as I thought I saw giant spiders glaring at me from the shadows on each side of the house.

But I made it to the front steps without shitting myself and I walked up to the front door -- if I was to be doomed, it would already have happened to me, right?

I found the door bell and rang it and the entire house seemed to rumble as a series of low chimes steadily grew louder. I swallowed hard and my knees were screaming to be turned away from the house as my skin crawled but I stood there with my opened pillowcase, awaiting my offering -- or was I being offered?

After a few endless seconds, the front door creaked opened and I was standing in front of a young woman. She was like an angel dressed black but she could not step beyond the door. Her eyes were green and she reached out to me with a delicate hand. A small pack of old looking gum dropped into my pillowcase.

"You're the one, aren't you?" she asked, hey eyes wide with terror. "Help me!"

She screamed the last words before something grabbed her by the neck and yanked her back into the inner abyss of the house and the door slammed shut. I stood there, frozen except for the warm stream that slid down my legs and I watched as the all the windows of the house filled with images of her face pressed against the glass, screaming for help.

I backed away and nearly fell down the steps of the Piege house and ran away from there, my crotch now drenched in pee while the speared pumpkins seemed to laugh at me -- I ran past my friends and they laughed until one noticed the terror on my face.

We all ran, that night.

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As I grew older, her image had become clearer and more detailed: She had been in her 20s, tall and slim with rounded hips and breasts that swelled beneath her black dress. Her neck had been delicate when she was pulled away from me. But my friends had believed what I'd seen, but as many things their childish belief faded with age and responsibility.

Yet, I fell in love that night, and I knew the angel had my heart and would be the first to have my flesh. But I had to prepare for her -- so that was when I started to practice. The papers called them murders but they were liberations. I always left a freshly carved pumpkin after a liberation -- the same tools I used to liberate an angel were used to carve the pumpkins.

I was an artist, in a way.

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Twenty years had passed and I was back in my hometown -- the town had grown and it teemed with lights and life. Everywhere I turned the streets were full with the reflections of Halloween -- but as I was able to see angels, I was able to see demons too, and I could pick them from those merely costumed. Real demons always had blood soaked spiders dancing in their shadows.

But my attention was focused on the Piege house and I drove my Ford Taurus through the side winding streets that lead to the old mansion and to my angel. I was struck by how this part of town was left to slowly decompose -- the houses were dark and without Halloween adornment and it seemed like the neighbourhoods had become architectural graveyards.

I pulled into the poorly lit parking lot of a convenience store and went to my trunk and pulled out my costume. A monk's habit and a featureless white mask. I wore surgical gloves beneath leather gloves and carried a pillow case in which I had placed a small gutted pumpkin. My costume was lined with pockets containing my tools and I was ready to free my final angel.

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I was brazen this night as I walked towards the Piege house -- I encountered the occasional fear seeker coming from the direction of the local legend but they always gave me a wide berth. They must have felt I was moving towards a culmination and my pace quickened.

It wasn't long and I was standing at the gates of the Piege house. The iron spikes of the gate seemed smaller than when I was twelve but they were still topped with pumpkins, but this time they were rotten and putrid. The grass bordering the walk towards the house was long and unkept, weeds warring for dominance of the yard while the blood red bricks of the house were blackened and the majestic vines that had once lined the walls were dried and brittle. Even the spiders in the shadows were lifeless carcasses.

I feared that my angel might have somehow expired, but I nonetheless walked the cracked path that had set my life in motion and I rang the doorbell.

All remained silent.

I touched the front door and it moved without resistance. Putrefaction rose from beyond the door -- sickly sweet and inviting so I pushed the door completely open and entered. I looked over my shoulder one last time and the speared pumpkins seemed less decrepit.

I reached into my habit and extracted an eight inch long hunting knife and deposited my pillowcase by the door and closed it behind me before transgressing the abyss.

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Pools of light poured into the house despite the clouded windows and I took care to walk slowly around them, embracing the darkness. I listened and I could hear a faint wheezing sound from deep within the house -- I reached into a pocket and decided to sacrifice the darkness and I activated a small put powerful l.e.d. flashlight I always carried. Its beam pierced through the darkness and illuminated dust covered furniture and bookcases. Cobwebs littered every square corner in the room and unidentifiable things scurried away from the artificial light.

I took a few more steps and finally found the source of the wheezing: sitting in an elaborately decorated reclining chair was something that had once been a man. His hair was thin and broken and his grayish skin clung to his bones as his muscles had withered away. His clouded eyes sometimes darted back and forth as I walked around him -- his lips had dried and his yellow teeth were permanently exposed. Sores bled pus along his thighs and shoulders.

But his cock was thick and erect and strangely pristine. A centipede crawled across his lap and his member twitched.

"I've been waiting for you for so long," a raspy voice said from behind me.

I turned slowly around.

My angel welcomed me with open arms.

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Her black dress was torn, exposing pale flesh. I looked at her and her features were delicate, but her lips, once full and sensual in my dreams, were thin and bluish. Her hair was black and stringy and the patch of hair exposed from between her thighs by her torn dress was shaggy and matted.

"You're finally here," she said as she took a laborious step towards me.

I didn't move. "You're not an angel, are you?" I asked, my voice cold.

"I might have been, once," she stammered as she came closer. Her teeth were translucent. "But I've been trapped in this house for so much sorrow."

I took a step towards her and said: "Did I commit terrible acts every Halloween for a nightmare?"

"No," she whispered, her hand inches from mine. I could hear the spiders in the shadows begin to scamper up the walls and the vines outside fill with eldritch life. "From the first moment you appeared at the door I knew you could save me. But you had to be ready ... and now you are."

I put my hunting knife in a pocket and dropped my flashlight and pulled my two layers of gloves off and touched her fingers -- they were cold and damp but I could feel life begin to pulse beneath them once again. My cock hardened at her touch and it grew beneath my habit.

"What do I have to do?" I asked, desperate to help her, angel or not.

She glanced over my shoulder at the living corpse in the reclining chair. "Take his place."

Without hesitation, I went to the chair and plunged my hunting knife into the chest of the poor soul and he gurgled as blood seeped from his chest would -- I saw his cock grow limp and wither as his dark, oxygen poor blood leaked from the would I made. As he died, I heard him thank me with his last breath.

I rolled the corpse off the stained recliner and it fell hideously to the floor, strips of skin sticking to the chair. I paused and looked at the windows of the old house and they were clear and clean. When I turned towards my unrequited lover, I noticed her hair was now silky and her pubic hair was dark and neatly trimmed.

"Thank you," she whispered as she took the knife from my hand and tossed it aside. She began to undo my costume and I felt her warming hands push the monk's habit from off my shoulders -- it fell onto the recliner while she undid my belt. She dropped to her knees and pulled my pants and my boxers down, exposing my rigid member.

"You are an angel," I gasped when she took my cock into her mouth, her lips wet and her tongue agile around my shaft. I could feel her saliva grow warm as she absorbed my life into hers. She cupped my balls and began to suck my cock with more authority, taking the head deep into the depths of her throat. I had never felt so much thanks and warmth as I did from the blowjob she willingly gave me in show of her gratitude. Her tongue slid up and down the sides of my shaft, culminating with licks and kisses on its tip. I met her eyes and they were sparkling green and her skin was flush with rosy colour. The room also seemed brighter.

She rose and she planted a passionate kiss to my lips -- her tongue met mine and they mingled while she pumped my shaft. I reached down between her legs and found a velvety cunt dripping with desire. I slipped a finger into her tight hole and she gasped.

"Will I become like him?" I asked as I pulled her black dress over her head. The tears and holes were mended.

"Never," she said as she turned around and pressed her backside to my lap and I passed my arms under hers to cup her ample breasts and pinch her rosy nipples. "You're so strong that I'll never need another one again."

My cock slid between her thighs and touched her pussy and it became coated with her juices. "You made me a monster and I'm glad." I manoeuvred her over the armrest of the recliner -- it looked as good as new -- and ran my cock against the crack of her heart shaped ass till I touched her pussy.

"Fuck me," she ordered. "Fill me forever!"

I slid into her tight pussy and my virgin cock was home -- I had never touched any of the angels I had liberated but as I accepted that I was a monster and that my lover was more demon than angel, I rammed my cock into her with abandon.

She moaned and I growled as my flesh smacked against hers and I felt her cunt tighten and her juices flow down our thighs while her body shook from her orgasm. I pulled out of her pussy and dropped to my knees, pulled off the white mask i wore and licked her wet lips and teased her clitoris with my tongue. She moaned and gasped and ground her ass against my face. I started to fuck her with my tongue and reached around her thigh so I could tease her clit with my thumb.

"Oooohhhh." she moaned as she came again, spilling juices down my chin. She somehow tasted like wine.

She gently pushed my hand away when her orgasm diminished and she slid away from me.

"Your kind is so rare," she said as she kissed me again and pushed me onto the recliner. A fire had erupted in the fireplace and I could see beyond the windows that the pumpkins mounted on the fence were full and orange and glowing with fire against the star filled night. I could even seen tiny figures standing beyond the gate.

"You might be enough to free all of us that are trapped here," she said as she mounted me and slid down my shaft. I ignored her words and embraced her nipples as she began to ride my cock -- my member slid in and out of her pussy, each stroke triggering waves of bliss to flow through my body and I felt stronger after each thrust. I was kissing and squeezing her breasts when I felt the first pulsations of orgasm form in my balls. She felt it to and slid her hand beneath my back so that only our thighs could move.

She met my upwards thrusts and I could feel her cunt begin to coil as it was ready to receive my come. My balls seemed to shatter and all the bliss she had given me concentrated into a sphere and flowed back into her, painting my perceptions blurry with fiery pleasure while her cunt clamped down on my shaft and milked every drop of come that jutted into her. Her body seemed to glow as she absorbed my seed.

She slid off my spilling cock and rested her head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat.

"How many of your ... tribe, are actually out there?" I asked, caressing her hair.

"I don't know for sure. Each one you killed on Halloween was released from the trap of flesh. But I was trapped in this house. I'm bound to it but I have you as a caretaker now. I'll never be weak again."

"There are others coming tonight, aren't there?" I said as she let me get up and retrieve my tools from my costume.

She smiled at me and slid her fingers into her pussy while a spider crawled across her breasts.

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The young girl stood across the street from the Piege house. Her friends had dared her to get near it, but she stopped when she saw more and more young women flock there. And there were still three hours left to Halloween -- maybe it wouldn't be as scary as she thought.