The Weeping Thing Ch. 02

"That's bullshit." Margaret mumbled, as she clicked on the hallway light.

The woman took a long look at the door of the second bedroom, sensing that there might be a presence inside, before she shook off the strange sensation. Peeved at herself for feeling that way, Margaret trudged down the hallway and into the living room. Maybe she should make a pot of Chamomile tea, she considered. That always helped her get back to sleep.

There was another surprise waiting for her in the living room. There on the couch sat a young girl, with wavy, dark brown hair and a very pretty face. She wasn't much more than a teenager, Margaret suspected. Instead of regular clothes, she wore some kind of gossamer wrap around her chest and waist that barely covered her essentials. It was the same kind of material that Margaret had worn in her dream, she compared. The cloth was transparent enough that she could see the girl's soft curves right through it.

"I'm still having that stupid dream." Margaret decided, as she shook her head and resolved to get to the kitchen before she saw even more absurdities in her house.

The problem was that the girl looked just like a regular, living person. She was gazing back at Margaret as if she was a little tentative of the old woman.

"Hello." The girl greeted with a smile.

"Who the hell are you?" Margaret shot back, since she was in no good mood to trifle with anyone, including ghosts. "How did you get in here?"

The girl looked scared of her, and maybe scared of her surroundings as well, as far as the old woman could tell. Still, she managed to speak, although her voice was little more than a pleasant squeak, and it was all English-sounding.

"My name is Emelina."

"Well, what do you want?"

The girl timidly pointed at her television. "I wish to see your Tee Vee. Donald has told me that it contains many wonders within it."

Margaret scratched at her head. "You've never seen a TV before?"

"No." Emelina shook her head. "Is it sorcery?"

"Are you one of Donald's women?" Margaret countered.

The girl managed to look confused.

"Did you come from the woods, where Donald is now?" She rephrased her question.

This time, a look of understanding crossed her face. "Yes! I am from the woods. We've seen many glimpses of your time. We've heard many tales of wonder that Donald has told us. My friends and I, we wish to see some of these things with our own eyes, for we have never heard the like of them!"

"Well, how many friends of yours are there?" Margaret's head turned to look back down the hallway. "They're not in the other bedroom, are they? I don't like all kinds of uninvited people coming into my house."

"No, the others are afraid of you, as am I." Emelina admitted. "There are six of us in all, but I was always the most adventurous. I was the one chosen to come first. Donald has said that you carry much anger within you and I don't wish to provoke that. I will leave if you request it so."

I have to get off some of my goddamned meds, Margaret thought to herself. The side effects were not supposed to give her any kind of hallucinations, but here she was talking to one of her fucking dreams. Maybe the dream would go away if she went along with it, the old woman wondered. Mentally crossing her fingers, Margaret stepped over to her little coffee table and retrieved the remote. She clicked on the TV, finding that she'd left it on a shopping channel. After scanning past a couple of lame shows and a couple of off-air channels, she stopped at a black and white sitcom from the fifties.

The girl seemed to instantly forget her, for Emelina's attention was now riveted on the TV screen. Amazed, she said, "It is a box of visions, as Donald has said!"

Margaret bit back from making a smart remark. Maybe Emelina was really as innocent as she appeared to be.

"How did you end up in the woods, anyway?" Margaret asked.

Emelina gave her another perplexed look.

"How did you come to be where Donald is?" Margaret repeated.

As if embarrassed, Emelina turned her head away. "I was killed by a man of the cloth, who I happened to enrage one time too many."

Margaret cringed at the words. Could all that possibly be true? "Why did this happen to you?"

"I was falsely accused of witchcraft." Emelina admitted, turning back to face her. "But I swear, the accusation was baseless! I was unable to prove my innocence and many false witnesses came against me!"

"Okay, okay, just calm down a little bit." Margaret replied. She started clicking on the remote again. This time she settled on a cartoon featuring a daffy duck and a wascally wabbit. "Here, you watch this while I go and put on some tea. Do you drink tea?"

"Yes."

"I'll get you a cup, then."

Margaret made her tea. She kept an eye on her unexpected visitor at the same time, in case the girl was trying to make off with some of her things. She found Emelina to be fully absorbed with the ongoing antics on the television, however.

Several minutes later, Margaret came back with two cups of tea and a tin of butterscotch cookies, because she couldn't help herself. She would tell the doctor to go screw himself, the next time she had an appointment with one.

Emelina was overjoyed at the cookies, she soon discovered.

Definitely, the girl was nervous to be around her, and who wouldn't be? Donald had probably warned Emelina that Margaret could be a tough bitch. Even if he hadn't, it wouldn't have taken the girl that long to figure it out. She really had become a sort of monster, Margaret decided, ever since her Robert had been taken away from her.

Margaret didn't know how to steer the conversation, since she wasn't used to having random people coming into her house. Emelina was much more interested in the TV anyway, so the woman let her be.

Eventually, Margaret's fatigue came back. She found herself beginning to doze off on the recliner. Margaret didn't want to leave the girl by herself, in case she did turn out to be a thief, but it was a losing battle. Her eyelids drooped down heavily, and she was soon fast asleep.

The next morning, Margaret woke up at nearly nine, when the warmth of the sun started ebbing through the living room. She yawned with a wide, gaping mouth, before she took in the scene in the living room. The woman wanted to wake up and tell herself that it had all been one strange dream after another. But no, the TV was still on and there sat the two cups of tea she'd made. The girl was gone and so was the tin of cookies. Vaguely, she remembered being asked if she wouldn't mind too much if Emelina took the cookies back with her, to share them among her friends. Margaret must have answered that it was okay, although she didn't remember having said it.

Margaret didn't have anything scheduled that day, and she didn't have anyone to talk to since Jenny still wasn't returning her calls. She was just an old, overweight heifer, she sighed. She had nothing better to do than to mope around the house and hope that she died sooner rather than later.

At half past noon and after a good nap, Margaret felt brazen and bored enough to head over to the door of her second bedroom. She nearly set her ear against the door to listen in, until she thought, the fuck, this is my house! I don't have to go pussyfooting around in here!

Before Margaret began second-guessing herself, she twisted the doorknob and shoved the door open. An empty bedroom, with a small pile of Donald's things boxed along one wall, glared back at her and made her feel stupid.

"See, you dumb ass, it was all a goddamned dream." Margaret berated her own self, as she took a quick stroll and made sure everything was as she last remembered.

Donald's boxes were still closed up and secure, so that Emelina chick hadn't taken anything from them. The rest of the room looked as devoid of human warmth as it had ever since the cops had allowed her to pack everything up.

Absently, Margaret stepped over to the window. The surprised woman froze once she took in the scene outside. Donald was standing out there, wearing a tee shirt and jeans. He had his back to her. Surrounding him were dozens and dozens of crows. They were all over the place, standing around, pacing, and cawing impatiently at Donald as if he was holding them up for something important.

What was it with all those fucking crows? Margaret grimaced. What made them keep coming back to her house? The last time there had been so many of them; they'd shit all over the backyard, on her little, red brick barbecue and on the posts holding up the clothesline. She'd be damned if she let them shit all over the place again. Resolutely, Margaret went over to slide the bedroom window open. Donald turned to look at her when he heard the noise.

"Donald, what the hell are you doing with all those crows?" She asked. "And where the hell have you been? Everybody thinks you're dead!"

"Maybe that's because I am dead." Donald grinned back at her.

"That's crazy-talk!" Margaret snapped back. "I can see you standing right there, still alive and kicking. You're as plain as the nose on my face. Now, where have you been?"

"Oh, I've been out and about, here and there." Donald mused. "I didn't really want to come back, except that I wanted to see the spot where Pan was killed one more time. I wanted to see a couple of other places too, that Emelina told me about."

Margaret immediately knew what spot Donald meant, because he'd shown it to her in the dream. It was that black patch of ground lying deep, deep in the woods.

Many of the crows started making noise and flapping their wings. This caused Donald to whirl around nervously to face them.

"These crows, they don't want me to go back there." Donald explained. "I'm afraid of them, Margie, because they can hurt me here. When I first found the Weeping Thing out in the woods, they attacked me. That was only three of them that time. I think this many of them might be able to kill me."

Margaret watched, as the crows did indeed seem to be watching the man closely.

"Get away from me!" Donald shouted and lunged at them, abruptly enough that the evil birds should have flown off. Instead, they all simply stood their ground and stared back at him. Donald turned back to her. "I think they're waiting for me to get far enough into the woods. That's when they're planning on attacking me."

Feebly, Margaret said, "Birds aren't smart enough to plan anything."

"These birds are." Donald corrected, as he came over to stand by the window screen. "Oh, Emelina wanted me to thank you for the cookies, and for letting her watch TV. She wanted to ask you if you could show her how to use the shower, but I think she was too nervous. Maybe she'll ask next time."

"Next time?"

"Yeah, she said you aren't as mean as I told her you would be." Donald teased the old woman. "She also said there were plenty of crabby people back in her time." Donald brought his face up close to the screen, so that his nose was almost poking into it. "Hey, Margie-girl, can I ask you something?"

He was looking at her face and at her body, Margaret realized. "What do you want to ask?"

Donald smiled. "Are you ready to get good and fucked?"

Her renter had never said anything to her even remotely as bold as that. Margaret was so much in shock that she could hardly mouth a reply.

"I'm going to fuck you for hours and hours, Margie." Donald told her. "I'm going to fuck you so hard and for so long, that you're going to want to leave this shitty world and come back with me into that other place. You're going to be so happy there, compared to how you are now. I know this because of how unhappy I was, and how happy I am now."

"You're going to burn in hell for what you're doing." Margaret said. "And I am, too, for having slept with that demon pretending to be my husband."

"You're not getting it." Donald shook his head, before he paused to make sure the crows weren't getting too close to him. The birds were in fact inching their way closer to him, they both noticed. He turned back to address her. "If you want to, you can go ahead and believe the people that keep shoving their stupid religious ideas down your throat, that tell you that you're born guilty and have to obey their rules for the rest of your life. Even then, you probably won't be able redeem yourself. If you want to believe them, then you go right ahead. What are you really guilty of? Missing your husband so much that you'd do anything to have him back? Are you guilty of having sex with the memory of the man you still love so much?"

"The Bible says we shouldn't consort with demons."

"Yeah, you're right." Donald agreed. "It does say that. And you should always go along with what pedophiles that wear long robes and abuse little boys are telling you. Especially when they were the ones that put the Bible together in the first place."

"I don't want to talk about that." Margaret replied.

A dozen crows started cawing at once, causing Donald to spin around again. "I'd better go back inside, Margie, otherwise I think they'll really try and get me. They're pretty riled up now."

Donald's form slid from away from her view. A moment later, Margaret could be seen hurrying over to the back door. She reached the kitchen in time to see Donald jump inside. A great flutter of black wings could be heard and seen behind him.

"Back, you feathery shits!" Donald shouted, before he slammed the door on his pursuers. To Margaret, he said, "Too bad we don't have a shotgun around, huh?"

As the old woman watched, Donald began to strip down to his bare ass, right there in the kitchen.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She asked. "Put your clothes back on!"

Donald gave her a wicked grin. "You'd better start running, Margie-girl, 'cause I'm a coming after you."

Margaret stood there oblivious, until she noticed how hard Donald's cock had gotten. She gulped, as his carnal intentions began prodding at her mind. Much too late, the woman turned and hurried down the hallway.

Of course, Margaret wasn't fast enough. Donald caught her just before she reached the living room. She squealed as he brought her down onto the carpet. Donald came down right on top of her.

"Get off of me!" She cried out. To then entire world, she cried out, "Help! I'm being raped!"

With Donald's cock pressed hard against her middle, and his bare chest only inches from her large breasts, he was actually chuckling back at her. "Close your eyes, Margie."

"No, I won't!"

Donald smiled and shrugged. "Keep them open then."

His face came down close to hers. He began to bathe her with kisses. Margaret turned her head away, only to feel the kisses continue along her cheek and neck. She discovered her body rapidly becoming breathless, as feelings that had long been dormant began to stir themselves up within her. How many years had it been, she thought, since a man had given her that kind of loving attention?

Donald pulled her shirt up over her breasts, exposing her extra-large, white bra. "Oh, Margie." He took in a deep breath, as he ogled her curves. "You're old enough to be my mother, you know that? No, I'm kidding, kidding."

"You're a pervert!" Margaret scolded him, bringing her hands up to Donald's chest to push him away.

His chest was warm on her palms and fingers. His nipples poked out like little gumdrops. A short, sultry moan managed to escape from her lips.

Margaret's hands slipped down the sides of Donald's lithe body, feeling the bones of his ribcage, and his waist, and his thighs. One of her hands dared even further, as it slid between their bodies and wrapped itself around Donald's cock. The old woman gasped, slightly, as she felt how hot and strong it was. She hadn't held a man's cock in over two decades.

Donald nuzzled his cheek on hers. This caused Margaret to turn her face toward his. He kissed her, barely at first, grazing his lips across hers, then his tongue. She didn't feel so old and wasted anymore, she felt alive and passionate, and wanting to return the same ardor that Donald was bestowing upon her.

Margaret closed her eyes. Strangely, she found herself deep in the woods, and as young as she'd been over twenty years in the past. Donald was still over her, on his hands and knees. She was gently stroking his cock and seemingly bringing him to some strange state of bliss, judging by the look on his face.

"Margie..." He started, but his hot and heavy breaths halted his words.

His erotic groans drifted down onto the woman's face and excited her further.

"Call me Margo." She said. "Don't call me Margie anymore."

Donald smiled down at her. "Then Margo it shall be. I like what you're doing with your hand, Margo. Keep doing it."

With one hand, Donald tugged at the bottom edge of her bra, until both of her breasts were released from their captivity. He fondled them, but only for a few moments before he brought his head down and began to suck on them. He mouthed and dragged his tongue over her large pink areola. Playfully, he nibbled at her nipples until she was writhing on the soft ground, and arching her upper back to offer her breasts up to him.

"I expect to see a big deduction on next month's rent for doing this." Donald quipped.

Margaret, the young version of Margaret, burst out laughing upon hearing this. Her laugh was pure and delightful. Such joy hadn't emerged from her body for so long that she couldn't even remember the last time it had happened. As the last of her laughter faded, her hands came back up to Donald's chest. Softly, she gazed into Donald's eyes and caressed him, while within her a deeper yearning blossomed.

"Let me take off my clothes." Margaret said.

Donald slipped away from her. Margaret sat up long enough to remove her shirt and bra, before she got to her feet and removed the rest of her garments. She stared down at her large udders and her belly, which weren't anywhere near as ugly and saggy as they were in real life.

"I was always a fat cow." She admitted. "And now I'm an old, fat cow."

"Don't forget crusty." Donald added.

Margaret smiled and chuckled. She gathered a short length of her blonde hair into one hand, and stretched her arm out so the hair would slip between her fingers. She glanced back at Donald. "Are you real? Is this place real?"

"My dick is real." Donald answered. "That's the only thing you should be worried about right now, Margo. Nothing else."

Margaret looked down at it, before she stepped closer to Donald and slid down on her knees. She stroked it, watching Donald's pleased reaction while she did this. Only moments after, she'd leaned over and taken his cock into her mouth.

Donald squirmed, as Margaret's head began bobbing back and forth on his length. His hand reached out to caress first her shoulder, and then the top of one of the large pendulums that were her breasts. Margaret shuddered, as she felt herself being groped once again. She stopped her erotic motions to allow the sensations to flower within her. When she returned her attention to Donald, she found that he'd already begun seeping for her.

Margaret kept her eyes on Donald, as she shifted their positions from kneeling before him, to sitting on top of him. She found herself urgently wanting to guide him into her body. Donald's eager cock smoothly slid into her moist opening, until it was completely engulfed. Margaret stayed her movements long enough to savor the feeling of a man inside of her.

It had been so long, she knew, as she started a sensual seesaw motion on Donald. This led to a rush of excitement and desire. Soon, she was bouncing up and down, and crying out into the woods as she quickly felt her climax peaking up within her. Margaret nearly screamed as she erupted, drenching Donald and the trees and ground around them with her erotic blessings.