Archive for the ‘Stories’ Category


She wakes in a panic, blindfolded, and with a screaming, disturbingly symmetrical pain around her mouth. She didn’t even try to move or open it, choosing to breathe instead from her nose. Despite her terror, she managed not to panic, if only because she knew it would be hard to breathe rapidly when you can’t open your mouth. Her heart shuddered like a faulty cogwheel, and her ears started picking up everything as she became more and more aware of her body and the aches it housed. She felt air on her skin, not moving enough to be breeze, but chilled enough to let her know she was either naked or damned close to it.

She felt the slightly warmed texture of the restraints on her wrists, metal, tight, but possibly loose enough for her unique skill. She brought both thumbs under her fingers to grasp tightly to both pinkies, significantly flattening the width of her hands. They slid free with dainty little pops. Rice crisp cereal, minus the bowl. Without wasting a second, she tore off her blindfold, and stood, long black hair matted but flying with her upright momentum. She saw her surroundings, (dingy,) and her manacles, (old, and on a long chain staked to a grimy concrete floor.)

There was no one in the room with her, and the door was wide open. It must be a trap. She quickly and quietly laid down the manacles on her exam room type perch, and looked around for a weapon. There was tons of detritus, but very little in the way of weaponry, and still, oddly, no humans. She peered into boxes until she could find something manageable, finally coming across what looked like a box full of theatre props. Inside was housed gallons upon gallons of greasepaint, a hearty litter of sponges, brushes, and pads, as well as other oddities…including a pair of impala antlers for some reason. She grabbed them and was about to run when she saw the gallon of black greasepaint. Looking around to ensure she was still alone, she grabbed the black greasepaint and ducked into a corner behind a stack of boxes. Using her discarded blindfold like the equivalent of masking tape, she painted her entire body, save a band across her eyes, which she kept white as the full moon. That was when she discovered the metal plate that had been bolted over her mouth. It too was smeared with midnight paint.

She heard noises… people coming into the room. She ducked down again, blending into the shadows the room seemed to need like it was air. Only her eyes were visible, but the three men didn’t seem to see her. She tilted her head a bit, and then was struck with the overpowering scent of whiskey. Ah, yes, the good old smell of death. They were drunk, that’s why they didn’t see her. Not completely out of commission, but far too rough to be anywhere near sober. She wondered if they had guns. To find out, she chucked a stray screw in an arc over their heads, sending to rest with a loud tink in the sink on the other side of the room. Both men ran over there…without weapons?? One guy had a Tazer, and that seemed to be all.

She gripped the impala antlers and stood quietly, sneaking up behind the two men with their backs to her, and she somehow managed to be quiet enough to bury both impala antlers into two fat, smelly, hot dog smuggling necks. Drunk wanna be thug number three pulled out a handgun, but she kept the antlers buried in the hot dogs, and used the their meat to take her heat. After the third shot that missed, the last hot dog smuggler started to look a little nervous. She loved it when people underestimated her, and only brought an older, slower six round shot with them in case of extreme emergency. She loved it even more when that once confident face began to know real doubt as she kept advancing on him despite his gunfire. At the last moment, she toppled him with his friends, deadweight fat guy bowling. She laughed at the thought, and that only made fat guy number three even more nervous.

She jumped into the air, landing solidly on his sizeable gut feet first. She folded herself to the point that her legs were resting behind her arms in a squat. Without looking, she snagged one of the horns and jerked it free with a muffled growl, feeling, but ignoring, the wave of white hot pain rushing over her from straining her bolted mouth. She took the antler, and raised it over his head. Fat guy’s face was unimaginably red, and she thought he may be having a heart attack. She let out a shrieking, ragged, primal closed mouth verbal emission of fury before jamming the antler into fat guy’s right eye. He was still alive. Looking down, she leaned in, and looking into his remaining eye, she tilted her head to the side, and reached a hand up to the plate on her mouth. The fat guy started to blubber out horrified ‘No!!s’ that meant nothing and went nowhere as she affixed her grip to the edges of the plate, widening her heterochromatic eyes, one mossy green, one milky white save for the pupil.

More blubbering, and with a roar and a crunching tear, the plate came free. She opened her mouth wide to scream in her uniquely terrifying voice right into his face, raining blood down on his greasy sweaty existence, adding to the levels of fetidness his mouth created without her aid. To earn her freedom, she jammed the metal plate into his manatee like neck, over and over again, until not even vertebrae remained. With a grunt so forceful it caused her cogwheel of a heart to skip again, she stood, bloody plate still in hand. The wall was torn down outside the room she was in, so she bolted for the woods, running until she blacked out.

She woke about 30 minutes after her fall, wondering if she’d had a nightmare. Then she moved her mouth. The pain was intense and immediate. Not a nightmare, then. She stood, looked around, and saw that she’d managed to run for 6 miles straight compared to where she knew she’d been before. She looked around, panicked, and saw no one. A deer saw her, watching the filthy, deranged mad woman whose mouth was stained black with blood on the only non-painted part of her body other than her bizarre eyes. She wouldn’t notice it, but the deer didn’t even flinch when she loosed her insane voice, shrieking out a plea of help. Five calls, rapid-fire, the sound was wholly unique. It was neither words, nor growls, nor shrieks, but some horrible mangling together of the three.

After the fifth call, she collapsed again. The deer emerged from the shadows, as black as she was, and he settled down beside her still form. The buck seemed to guard her as she slept. She would not be alone when she woke up again, but for now, she dreamed of nightmarish things…

She awoke to a world coated in pain. SO much pain… She whimpered. In a second her love was by her side, pulling her into his arms. She still didn’t dare talk, her mouth hurt so badly. She felt her mouth with her frozen fingers. The wound had actually healed significantly, but her mouth still ached. She felt a warm, firm kiss press into her forehead as she was gathered even closer to him, and as always, he managed hold her close and snugly without hurting her. She looked up at his familiar face, she didn’t need to speak for him to hear the question in her mind.

“Five days. You’ve been out five days, and your mouth is clear of infection. Once it doesn’t hurt anymore, I wanna know how you managed to yank that plate out of your face, and why it took me two days of trying to take it for you to let go finally. But one thing I want to know right now, which can answered with a simple shake or nod, is this…Are the people who did this to you still alive?”

She shook her head and looked around, wanting for a notepad and pen. He saw her looking around and produced both. Suddenly, she was even more glad they were so close they didn’t NEED to talk to communicate anymore. She drew three large men, each with bottle in hand, one with a gun, one with a Tazer, and one bare handed. She pointed to them, looking into his eyes. This is who they were…

He nodded, and she didn’t miss the tear streaks imprinted on his cheeks. She looked at him again. This is what I did to them. She flipped to the next page and drew the sharp black corkscrews of the impala antlers, then mimed holding one in each hand. She flipped back to the page with her crudely drawn attackers and again mimed holding them, and stabbing the first two, then holding them upright on their tools of death. Then she pointed to the third, and mimed a gun. She mimed holding up the impaled bodies and advancing, then throwing them at the last man left. Then she held the one antler in mime again, she made stabbing motions and point to his eye. The she took a deep breath, and flipped to a third, clean page. She drew her mouth plate. Then she pointed to her face, and mimed tearing it off again. Then she pretended to hold her plate, and jammed it repeatedly towards the picture of the last abductor, then scrawled violently around his neck to black it out.

By this point, they both had rivers of tears flowing, and with shaking hands, humbled shoulders, and a slightly lost expression, she shrugged and finished her gruesome tale by miming running half heartedly. He cradled her close, rocking her, and clutching gently at her sleeves and hair to try to pull her closer everywhere, limbs included. When he could speak, he managed to get out his last question for the day.

“How did you survive?”

She looked up at him, eyes watery, and she gingerly opened her mouth to speak.

“Because… I love you…”



(Photo Courtesy of Trisha @ You Know You Have EDS When on Facebook!)

She wakes quickly, though not startled, she goes from sleep to awake amazingly fast. She didn’t move for a long moment, enjoying the still silence. She takes a deep breath and rolls slowly to the left, feeling her sacroiliac joint slide askew as she got to her feet with a hitch. Her hip socket decided to joint into the party, and gave a sickening, staccato snap as she attempted her first step. She pulled on her jeans, and her shoulders and the ribs in her chest all snapped in rhythm. Her neck ached, so she tossed it from side to side to crack it, both sides producing a terrifying tattoo that more resembled a machine gun than any sort of drum. Every single crack hurt, the louder the snap, the more painful the aftermath.

She takes a deep breath, heading for the door after leashing up the dog, serenaded by a series of cracks and clicks courtesy of her spine on the way down to secure her furry friend. She opens the door, managing not to falter when it feels like her heart stops for a moment and her head feels too damned light to still be attached, it’s intensity rivaled only by its briefness. On she walks with the little dog, and every step brings a grinding sensation to her left hip. Grinding in the groin, grinding in the hip socket, and sometimes grinding at the knee as well, but thankfully not so far today. It was sharp today, instead of hot and achy. It threatened to give out on her. She looked down at her pup and felt her neck vertebrae slide around uncomfortably.

She hurried up with the dog, working with her limp instead of against it, and returned home. She unlatched the dog to more pops and snaps, then removed her shoes. She stood still for a second, and with a complete absence of dizziness, she tipped to the left, ramming her shoulder into the wall and out of socket. It slid back into place as she stood up with a loud ‘thunk’ sound. A series of bizarre feeling muscle spasms danced under the skin behind her calf muscles, looking like someone twiddling fingers under her skin. She sat, feeling another snap in the left hip, followed by a softer one in the right hip when she adjusted herself in her chair. She began to use the computer, ignoring the goose bumps that danced in stripes and patches along her arms, legs, and scalp.

Frowning, and suddenly urgently having to use the bathroom, she stood too quickly, and her sacroiliac joint gave out for good, causing her to falter, almost hitting the floor before regaining control of her hip. She righted herself, and continued walking to the privacy of the bathroom. Upon return from the bathroom, she felt a snapping sensation in her left thigh. It hurt, and made a full stride tricky, but didn’t slow her down. She returned to her seat. The next time she went outside, she’d have to alter her stride to hide it. She knew all too well that human vultures loved to pick on the wounded, so she fostered the image that she was just fine.

The world didn’t get to see the cracks in her skull, the decay in her entire spine, in her hip, and wrists, and every finger. The world didn’t see the random attacks of too much acid in her stomach that felt like she was going to die any second, or when it felt like her body slid forward four feet in forward in .0 seconds flat. The world didn’t know her leg muscles would randomly tighten, making it hard to move her not obviously injured left leg. It didn’t know that she often hear music in another room, sometimes in her room, that just wasn’t there (or that this fact didn’t mean she was crazy.)  It didn’t know that sometimes it felt like an elephant was standing royally on her right cheekbone, or that her spine was slowly being strangled by decaying and hyper mobile vertebrae. It didn’t see her list like a damaged ship for no earthly reason at all…

It didn’t see that she wore all of this under her smile, it only noticed her occasional dysfunctional ambulation when it got the better of her. It didn’t see the snarling gargoyle riding her, its feet planted firmly in her lower spine, holding fast to reigns tied about her shoulders, jerking them cruelly out of place at the slightest offence. It didn’t see the crawling demons that lived under her skin, skittering and making her writhe uncomfortably when she hurt too much in the middle of the night. Restless body syndrome is what it should really be called.

It was all invisible, thus the world couldn’t, and wouldn’t, bother to see beyond the smile. It would be cruel, judging, and unkind to those who looked fine but carried massive, swarming, black burdens under velvet skin. It wouldn’t hear of the aches housed in the pressure fractured porcelain, not when its shine was so beguiling. No…there could be no flaws in there, all seems well from here!! It’s all in your pretty little head, pixie girl! I hear the hoof beats, so there must be horses here!

But I am not a horse. My hoof beats signal the striped flesh of the zebra. What’s the difference?

Zebras keep running, even on broken legs…

He awoke to a too bright room where everything was white.  Columns stood, in ruins, but the dais in the center of the open arena was intact, and occupied. He couldn’t see through the brightness, as if someone was shining the sun into his eyes. He felt pulled into the glare, and towards the living statue before him. When he was close enough that he could touch her she blinked at him, her eyes a glowing shade of mossy grey, they were as blinding as the white glow enveloping him. Her hair and skin were marbled white and grey, with veins of jade. She wore only masses of coiled, brilliant white hair. Her eyelashes were inhumanely long and fluttered like albino butterflies every time the statue woman blinked. When she spoke her voice was inside his head and sounded a like a thousand whispers and growls wrapped around a purr.

“I know why you’re here…”

He started, looking closer at her. She leaned towards him and opened her mouth, exposing white fangs and tongue stained with blood. A clot of it dripped down her pristine white chin and stained her sharp teeth, all the more stark against her unnaturally white stone flesh. He jerked back in horror.


She held up a finger, pressing a surprisingly sharp talon over his lips.

“Don’t talk with your mouth, or didn’t see my ears are made of stone…?”

He opened, and then rapidly snapped his mouth shut, trying to concentrate his thoughts.

“Who are you?”

“I am the Door.”

His confusion showed on his face, and she laughed, the sound a bit too sharp, and echoing off of walls that didn’t exist.

“You are looking for answers, aren’t you?”

He nodded, and watched her close her eyes. She brought up her hands as if in prayer, her white nails glittering in the otherworldly bright. Bright blue-white light poured out of her fingers right as the wind kicked up, whipping about them with tornado like frenzy. When she opened her eyes again, they were as black as onyx and she fixed them on him, opening her clasped hand to show him a miniature of himself standing on the balls of her palms. Not waiting to gauge his shock, she sliced his miniature down the middle.

“Your answers are inside… just reach into your heart…”

His hand moved on its own, and with a roar he was swallowed in blackness. When he awoke, he was on a plain with what looked very much like his own corpse, but it was a rag doll now, with a comically scripted sign in his straw stuffed hands.

“The answer is in You…”

Thunder distracted him, and the statue woman was hovering over him like a bad hallucination. Her voice was everywhere, terrifying and soothing simultaneously.

“You must look inside, and when you find it, then I will let you out of here, but not a minute before… Happy hunting!”

She laughed and faded away, leaving him alone with his own scarecrow. He wasted no time, and tore into the stuffed doppelganger furiously. In the middle, amongst straw and rancid cotton, was a box, simple, silver, and with an easy little latch.

He popped it open and pulled out a piece of paper that said simply, “Wrong you, silly. Oh, and Eat Me…”

A little black thing with the word ‘Me’ scrawled on it fell into his lap. It felt organic, and smelled like shit. He looked around at the desolate and cold landscape around him. Not knowing any other way out, he popped the little black button into his mouth and swallowed it whole, trying not to gag on the taste. He waited…and waited, and waited. Suddenly, the world was swallowed up in blackness, and he felt himself sliding downward. He felt smothered, but not unable to move or breathe, like he was being hugged by honey. Down, down, down. A shriek greeted him as he reached the bottom of the hole. It grew louder and louder until it simply stopped, and he was still, and no longer covered in intangible honey.

He dared open his eyes and chance a look around. He was in a clearing, where clover and dandelions grew wild. It looked like something out of a fairy tale. Butterflies glistened in the soft golden light of dusk. He heard laughter, and saw a woman dancing in a field, glittering like she was coated in diamonds. He heard her singing, but couldn’t make out the words from this distance, so he crept cautiously towards her. She twirled closer and closer to him, laughing and out of breath. When she reached him, she stopped abruptly.

“Have you seen the Captain?”

“The Captain?”

She laughed, twirling again, and now he could see the madness in her blue eyes.

“Yes, dear, the CAPTAIN! I’ve got his MONKEY!!”

She laughed, slapped him, and ran off, lifting her skirts and petticoats, before disappearing into the woods. When she disappeared, so did the sun. Like someone flicked a switch, the moon was high in the sky and huge. He heard leaves rustling, and turned to see yet another strange female behind him. This one was tall, pale, and had hair darker than the night sky, eyes the color of the tree canopy at night, and wore nothing but vines and far too much intelligence in such young looking eyes. She reached a hand out to him and he drew back, expecting to be slapped again, but when he pulled back, so did she, clutching her hand as it sprouted blood from the palm like he’d stabbed her. She let out an inhuman wail of pain and flickered out of existence. His heart started pounding, and things calmed down for a second or two, long enough for him to wonder what the hell was going on, and how he was supposed to get out of here. He didn’t know why, but that last encounter really bothered him, even more than the bloody mouthed statue woman. Genuine fear crept up his spine, and the dark haired woman’s face flickered into view long enough for her to whisper in his ear,

“It’s alright, I’m going to guide you out of here, just trust me…”

She disappeared as soon as the last word left her lips. He roared in sheer frustration, tearing off into the clearing at a lung-bursting gallop. He heard the ghost woman’s voice again, ‘That’s the wrong way, Traveler…you must always go to the left…’

“Oh, MUST I?? And WHY IS THAT??”

He didn’t bother to stop running, or to listen for any further ghostly commands, and ran full bore until he reached an ocean made of stars. He skittered to a stop just before going over the edge. It only looked like an ocean, with its waves and pulses, but it was the universe over the edge of that sand. He heard the woman who was supposed to be his guide speak, directly behind him, and to his dismay, she was tangible this time.

“If you venture into the Black Ocean, you commit yourself to this limbo and I cannot guide you. I cannot cross these sands.”

She touched a bare toe into the sand from her safe grassy perch and her toe burst into flames, going out just as quickly when she removed it from the sand. He hesitated, then sighed and returned to her side, determined to get answers. He stood beside her, and without thinking, grabbed her arms so she wouldn’t run. He was about to ask her who she was, where he was, and fucking WHY it all was when she let out another scream. Her skin melted onto his hands and he immediately let go, she blinked out of existence as fast as he let go. Her voice, however, stuck around.

“Maybe now is the right time to tell you that as long as you are trapped here, every time you touch me, I burn. You have to come out the other side before you can touch me.”

Exhausted, tired, and not willing to wonder about the wrongness of this place, he said only one word, wearily.


“You will understand when you wake, if I tell you, it’s the same as throwing you into the Black Ocean. Now, will you please take the path to the left, to the mountains, and look for the arena where the Queen of Stone lives? She’s your way back home.”

The woman didn’t give him time to answer before her face, and voice, faded from view and he felt a not so gentle shove toward the path. Wearily, he resigned himself to the trip ahead. All semblance of how weird it all was became lost in weariness and resignation. He walked heavily to the mountains, all the while feeling the eyes of his guide upon him, nudging him here and there, but not uttering a word for 8 miles or so. He wondered offhandedly why his feet didn’t hurt…

Red Goes DOWN!

Posted: April 11, 2013 in Stories
Tags: , , , ,

Shake as she might, she couldn’t free herself of her sticky red coating. It splattered the walls of her cave, obscuring the ancient art they once held. Now they were just smeared with gore, and other, less identifiable substances. She was alone in her haven this time, needing a moment to roar unheard. She loosed a loud one, shocked to find she wasn’t roaring alone. A dragon had entered her lair. She wasn’t afraid, and approached the red scaled demon with her blade drawn. She twirled it about her palm, not so much to show off as to warm up. It wasn’t the first time she had to defend her home, or her life, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. The chuckling red monster slithered closer to her, serpentine and ugly. His scent gave him away.

“You’re not welcome here, dragon. I’ve already killed one of your kind today, can’t you smell it? The blood on my walls is far from human.”

The dragon just laughed, a horrible, grating sound meant to drive her mad. Too late.

“Little girl, put away your blade before it ends you.” The dragon whispered into her ear with his forked tongue. She smacked it away from her, pointing right into the dragons nose with a clawed fingertip.

“Monster, you have no idea what you’re dealing with, do you?” She began to laugh, and there was an edge of insanity to her mirth.

“I guess I’m about to find out, since you won’t give up this pointless war of yours.”

Her laughter broke the barrier between slightly losing it right into hysteria. She pulled her second blade, this one smaller, and black as pitch.

“Can you even wield those things anymore, cripple?”

Her laughter died and the dragon smiled, knowing he’d hit a mark. Her first move was to volley the smaller blade right into the dragons left eye. The monster yowled in pain, trying in vain to dislodge the blade that just half blinded him. It wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard the dragon tried. Her laughter returned as she leapt full force onto the hilt of her tiny blade, sending it into the dragons brain. The monster screamed again, blood spraying generously from where his left eye used to be. Despite this, the beast lurched about her cave, knocking over everything, and scraping his screaming talons along the walls in an attempt to right itself.

She let out a roar, taking a running jump until she landed on the back of the dragons neck. She buried her hand up to the fist into the dragons eye, retrieving her blade. The dragon faltered, falling more than once with her sleight weight on his overburdened neck. She pulled the leather thong off her arm, wrapping it firmly about each balled fist before imposing it upon the dragons neck. The beast made a satisfying gurgling sound as he went down. Retrieving the other thongs tied about her limbs, she fashioned a leash, and dragged the ailing red dragon out into the cold night air.

She closed her eyes, speaking softly under her breath, and with every word the leather straps began to glow a hot shade of blue. Once she opened her eyes, the leash had taken on properties no mortal fibers could ever hope to match, strong enough to hold a wounded dragon. She laughed, smearing the dragons fresh blood across her face. She leaned down to whisper in its chasm of an ear.

“Did you make a mistake? Did you think you were dealing with an ordinary cripple?? Did you think I had nothing but what you left me with, these fucking scars???”

She ripped her tattered shirt up, baring her scarred belly to the beast. It opened its good eye, staring at its handiwork. But she wasn’t done. No, not by a long shot. She bared her ragged spine, showing off a stegosaurus line of vertebrae marred by lash marks. Then she bared her lower belly, where his white-hot talons had left a little white scar. Her display over, she jerks her leathers back into place, leaning over to growl in the face of the red dragon.

“You tried to beat me, rape me, and eat me, but you have no idea who you’ve challenged, and now you’re in my land, where the Old Rules still apply. Don’t think the loss of an eye will pay your debt, monster, I’m far from done…”

She grabbed the dagger she had stashed along her left thigh and reclaimed her seat on the back of the dragons head. Methodically, and with an eerie smile, she sawed off each of his stunted horns. The dragon couldn’t feel that, it would be the equivalent to trimming your fingernails, but in the world of dragons, losing your horns was an insult, and a demerit. Next she sliced off his bat-like ears, jamming the spines into the holes they once protected. She was having a bit too much fun, and she heard the monster whimper underneath her as she cheerily announced, “Time for cosmetics!!”

She grabbed the remaining horn on the dragons nose and jerked its head violently to face her, not hearing the vertebrae popping in her hands. She was able to see the pain in the monsters eyes after slicing off the lids, and knew that he wouldn’t live more than an hour with a broken neck. She’d have to work fast. She peeled off the dragons lips, and used a heavy granite rock to smash out all its teeth. The worst thing is, she had no intentions of killing this thing quickly. She leaned over to roar into its mangled ear orifices.

“Do you know what I’m going to do now, Dragon? Hmmm??? This fucking cripple is going to steal your fucking children. You hear me, you pathetic lizard fuck?? I’M…GOING…TO…STEAL…YOUR…CHILDREN!! And then I’m going to feed you to them.”

She laughed, and pulled at a thong tied about her neck, summoning her dear old friend with a bone whistle. A shriek pierced the air and the sky turned black and green, and very windy. The red dragon peered, head lolling, with its good eye to see the only thing that scared it landing with an earthquake inducing thump right before him. The black dragon looked down into the eye of the dying dragon mewling pathetically at its clawed feet. Just to piss the red dragon off, the black and green dragon clicked its claws rhythmically right before the supine monsters one good eye. The black dragon stayed vigil over the dying red dragon as it awaited the return of the cave woman. She made it back in time, carrying two mewling little baby red dragons with her. The red dragon whimpered, recognizing the scent of his children.

“Oh, they’re hungry! Can’t let a baby starve, now can I?”

The baby dragons, being more meat than mind, smelled blood and began spurting little flame attempts, stretching their young necks to the dying body of their father. She loosed them, and they began to feed… She let them have their fill, stepping back to stand beside the black dragon. The black dragon turned into pure white light, a burning ball that gradually shrunk and took the shape of a man not too dissimilar looking from the cave woman. He was taller than her, and his arm fit perfectly around her shoulder. He looked into her equally green eyes, no amusement on his face.

“You know what you have to do, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“You ok with that?”

Again, she nodded. She crept up on the feeding babies, and as quickly as she could, cut off their heads. She chucked one head to the East, and one to the West.

“So you are, it would seem.”

She looked at the man she loved, giving him a predators smile.

“If I let them grow up, I’d be doing this all over again in 30 years. I don’t know if this cripple could last THAT long. These are the last of the evil dragons. We’ve done it.”

He grinned at his little cave wife, wiping enough blackened blood off her face to kiss her.

“I know, I just wasn’t sure how you’d do with the little ones.”

“Enemies are enemies, no matter how small. They grow up, I die.”

“Not while I’m on watch you don’t!”

He growled, pulling her roughly to him and planting a long, dizzying kiss on her metallic tasting lips. She had to hold on to him so as not to fall.

“Hey, give me some credit, it’s only been a year since you left my dreams and joined my side. I’m fighting 28 years of having only me to protect me.”

He grinned at her, fangs and all.

“Never again, Lady, never again.”

She grinned at him, and together they took dragon form, both black and green. They had work to do that human bodies weren’t built for. He took the dead male. She took the corpses of the younglings, and together, they flew to the nearest volcano and dropped off their not so precious cargo. Deed done, they flew back home. Once inside their cave and human again, she looked to her husband and grinned with both her rows of teeth. “You’re in trouble…”

He mocked shock and fear, running into the cave, only to turn at the last second and catch her before she could tackle him. What happened next is not for the eyes of humans, but I’m sure I don’t have to elaborate too much, now do I…?

She’s dressed for war, hair braided along the sides in proper Celtic fashion, to keep it from her murderous eyes. She’s fighting alone, and she hears the opposing war party approaching fast. She tightens the leather straps circling her upper arms, sticking one in her mouth to grit her teeth against. The first of the war horses crests the slight hill blotting out her horizon. She grits her teeth harder against the leather, jerking her custom made sword from its sheath. She was gonna do this the old fashioned way, because this time, her enemy made it personal.

Her antsy feet dig into the soft earth beneath her bare toes. An old copper whistle hung ornately from her neck, vibrating with her rapid pulse. The horses gained ground. She closed her eyes, and the world was quiet. All she could hear was the thundering of her heart. Her eyes snapped open, fixing on her enemy and his small war party. This would be over quickly, she could feel it in her guts. One way or another….

There was a small boulder before her and to her left, it seemed to glow, and as the first horse neared her, she leapt upon it, roaring her hysterical battle cry. She managed to take off two heads before they could slow their advance enough to change direction. That left three. But they’d made the fatal error. This was her turf, and in this harsh frozen land she occupied, Mother Nature set her own booby traps.

After stealing the cannon fodder’s horses, she kicked them into a lather for the tree-line. As long as they didn’t have arrows, she’d be fine. Seconds later a thwack sound let her know she wouldn’t be that lucky. She dared a look back to see black rain chasing her. Swearing under her breath, she kicked her horse harder. Sensing her urgency, the wiry mare led her into the trees. The arrows littered them second later. Time to play War Mistress. She grinned, the leather strap still in her mouth.

She caught the eye of her main target, enticing him to give chase at the last second up the fork to the left. She could see irritation in his face, he’d never understood why left was significant to her, as he couldn’t say she tied it to political leanings. She’d grinned ahead of him. Coy little bitch, she wouldn’t be grinning soon.

He never did get when he was wrong, and now it would be his undoing. As if on cue, the screams of men and horses sang up to hear from the valley floor. Never trust the brush, stupid, and you KNOW this is one of my tricks. She let out a goading laugh and led him farther and farther up the mountainside. Suddenly, he lost her, her trail had just…disappeared. He slowed his mount, eyeing the trees warily.

She looked down on him, looking up into the wrong stand of trees, but didn’t take long to relish the view, because he was on the target. Without a sound, she leapt from the treetop, bearing down him like a demented ape.

When she made contact, she brought with her a little friend, a little rock, with a very sharp edge. It made a delightfully sickening sound as it sunk into his skull. The sound almost made her loose ground, it sounded so sweet. Once he was out, she blew the copper whistle, and her War Elephant plodded lazily up to her, giving her a look that said, ‘This is ALL I get to do today??’

She shrugged, and pointed to the body beneath her feet. The elephant lifted the rag doll of a man, by his hair, and slung him carelessly into her crude war nest on its back. They didn’t have far to go, but she knew she couldn’t carry him. They walked for what seemed like eternity before reaching the biggest damned tree she knew of in the area, and once again, the elephant flung him down at the base of the tree without regard for his tender flesh. The elephant righted him, and she began to tie him to the tree. He wouldn’t wake for four hours…

When he awoke, his head was screaming at him and he couldn’t remember anything. He knew who he was, little else. When he forced his eyes open, groaning as they did in protest, he saw a crazed half-Viking, half-Pict Witch standing in front of him. The blue paint on her face did little to distract from the fury in her eyes. She bore down on him with a small, thin blade he recognized but couldn’t name. The long, partially braided hair didn’t help her look any less like she was going to kill him. She leaned in close, pressing the blade to his throat.

“Now, I’ve waited a long time for you to wake up, you stinking piece of elephant shit, so you’re going to listen to every word I say. Right??”

He nodded, having discovered by now he was tied to a tree. What else could he do?

“Good. First off, you can stop trying to take things away from me that aren’t yours to take, secondly, you can stop being a shadow over the sun in my existence, and thirdly, YOU ASKED FOR THIS. Explicitly. Repeatedly. So now, like always, I’ll give you what you want…”

She pulled the blade from his throat and took it to the back of his left leg, slicing the thick tendons that would support his lavish weight.

“There, now you can feel what I feel in my leg every day, so you will have no fucking question about my sincerity when I ACTUALLY mention that it hurts. Now…”

She balled up a fist and popped him solidly in the mouth.

“That… is for making ME fear YOU! You cowardly little fuck weasel, you don’t deserve to breathe my high mountain air. And this… This is for the blonde one.”

She head butted him square on the bridge of the nose, delighted to watch the blood gush. Just to really fuck with his melon, she leaned in and licked some off his chin, grining at him with blood stained teeth.

“And now you get to swallow blood, just like you made me do. Now, I know what you REALLY want. What you REALLY want it this, isn’t it?”

She grabbed his hand, and shoved it crudely beneath her legs.

“Well, I hate to disappoint you, sniveling child, but this is a treat for adults only. And you’ve been found wanting…”

Once more she rammed her head into his nose, this time harder. This time when he passed out, she didn’t know if he was still alive. And she found she didn’t care. Taking her blade, she leaned into him, cutting off his clothing. With her little dagger, she began writing into his flesh, then methodically smearing what looked like ash paste into the wounds. She was performing a crude, and highly fatal form of tattooing. In a day or two, the words would read clearly on his cold flesh. Traitor. Coward. Slave Master. Rapist. Liar. And just to piss off the super religious nuts that lived in her world, she carved the word “Sodomite” into his forehead.

She slept well that night, secure in her future, and did not even hear her friend join her in the midnight hours. It didn’t stop her from snuggling into his warm flesh in her sleep, but she also did not wake…

It’s sunset, and the light pierces into my cave. I throw an arm over my eyes and peer out the massive opening to the world. Feeling disoriented, I drink from a cave pool, tasting the mercury. It makes me shake like a wet dog for a spastic second, then I stand to greet the night.  A voice purrs to me from the depths of the caverns I call home. I ignore it. It doesn’t want to be ignored, though, and grows louder as it approaches. A look of confusion crosses my face. This is NOT the voice I’m used to. I turn too quickly, blinding myself with long black hair.

Some serpentine creature moves towards me, opening its fanged mouth to loose the voice of legions. It’s eyes glow green and it’s hair resembles electrical cables that nearly reach the ground. Now I recognize him.

“Get a make-over, did we?”

The creature chuckles, sending it’s ropey hair dancing. It reaches talons for fingertips to my cheeks. The green eyes burn, and the voice purrs against my lips.

“Yesss… I did. Do you like it?”

I look him over, nodding and giving a satisfied smile.

“What brought on the change?”

He chuckles again, tossing back his long head. He puts his hands on my shoulders, and pulls me against his bare, greenish black skin. It feels like a single, solid scale…or a cockroach carapace. His warm tongue snakes its way across my cheek, surprisingly soft and forgiving.

“Why, you did, Lady.”

She cocked her head.

“Lady? What happened to Girl?”

He grinned, and I could see his soul in it. The outer appearance might be confusing to some, I noted off handedly.

“You’re not a Girl anymore.”

I gave him a smirk.

“I’m hardly a lady.”

The next smile the creature gave me was predatory.

“Yes, you’re a lady alright. You’re MY lady. And now I can protect you properly.”

Once again, the head tilts. I narrow my eyes at him, and he sees them turn blue before I can say a word.

“Don’t mistake me, Mistress, I’m not keeping you here, and I will not be in your way. But now I can keep you safe.”

I once again was confused, and I reached out to see what his new hair felt like. Like silken ropes. Hmmm…

“And why couldn’t you before?”

He grinned, and made a strange clacking sound before responding.

“You thought you didn’t need me. Now you know. Congratulations, you’ve earned your own personal Fros-“

“Don’t say it! Don’t say it, I know what you are….Saying it isn’t doing anyone any favors.”

My fingers were splayed across his lips, and for the first time in nearly a decade, I realized why my guardian hadn’t abandoned me. When my limbs started to shake, I let go, and took a step back, and a deep breath.

“Why do you still pull back? You caught the word Lady, but not the term Mistress. There’s nothing to fear in me for you, I’m YOURS to command.”

I looked into those huge, burning green eyes. I couldn’t find a lie in them. That only made me shake harder…