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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Ghost · #1221157
The ghost of Anna Nicole haunts the living
The Legend of Anna Nicole Smith

          Once some things are set into motion they cannot be stopped.  The life of Anna Nicole Smith is one of several of such things.  From the day she was born it is said she was destined to be the world’s most powerful succubus.  Little did the world know that she would retain said title even in the afterlife.  Since her passing there have been a number of accounts of elderly, lonely, wealthy men being literally fucked to death with no trace of the murderer.  The blame is often laid to the horny, restless spirit of Anna.  Only one man has survived an encounter of such magnitude and he was gracious enough to record his experience and share it with the world.  Edgar Rivers is a stock broker owning large shares in multi-billion dollar companies such as Wal-Mart, MacDonald’s and the American National Bank.  His wife perished several years ago, leaving him alone to reap the profits of his wise investments.  Needless to say he is the type of man that Nicole’s cum thirsty soul would be looking for.  Eventually she found him.  This is his story.
            It was a bitter cold night back in the hill country.  I was staying at my winter home in northern Colorado.  I just swept the porch as the snow was really pilling up outside, nearly three feet if I recall right.  The firewood doesn’t bring it self in, so I was outside getting an armload of that as well.  It was pinion pine, that’s the best firewood around.  It burns hot and smells real nice.  I dusted the snow off my jacket and hung it on the mahogany coat rack.  While shuffling over to my leather chair to watch the fire burn I felt the craving for some cider.  None of that instant cider, I’d just as soon drink rat piss.  I brew my cider myself, and I’m not too modest to say it’s the best I’ve ever had in my seventy six years. 
            The seat cushion of the chair wrapped itself around me as I sunk into it.  The fire was relaxing, as well as the Dominican cigar I was puffing on.  I can remember thinking that this is how someone ought to spend their golden years.  When I was through with my cigar and my cup of cider I dozed off.  It was around ten when I awoke.  I was somberly thinking of the dreams I had during my nap.  They were about my wife, Elma.  That was about the time I heard the first noise. 
            It came from the back of my house.  You see, the way my house is configured, the front door and the living room are at the bottom of my creaky old staircase.  The direction the noise was coming from was the kitchen.  I’d seen enough movies to know when to not investigate a noise and when to go the other direction.  I sensed that this was one of those times to flee, so I began walking towards my room which was directly away from the noise in the kitchen.  Little did I know how quickly ghost whores could move.  Before I had taken ten steps something knocked me down from behind.  It was real forceful and cold.  At first I didn’t have an idea of what just happened.  I laid on my stomach, dazed, for several seconds.  When I picked my head up off the rug it occurred to me I hadn’t tripped.  Hovering above me was a luminescent, blue figure.  It appeared to be a woman in her mid thirties.  I won’t lie, she looked incredible.  Beautiful or not, she still startled me, I was startled so badly in fact that I found myself unable to stand back up.  Our eyes were locked for nearly ten minutes.  The whole time I was keeping a close eye on that old grandfather clock that she was hovering in front of.  I got sick on laying there and got up the courage to run.  It surprised me how quickly I hopped up on my feet and started to run.  Didn’t matter though, she picked up a heavy, hard cover book I’d been reading and threw it with pinpoint accuracy.  I collapsed to the ground again.  Breathing was getting harder.  She hit me right between my shoulder blades and it hurt my lungs more then anything else.  I asked her what she wanted four times but not one of those times did she respond.  What she did next with lightning like quickness almost killed me.  The spirit mounted me and began to gyrate her hips forcefully.  As crazy as it seemed to me at the time, I truly believed she was trying to fuck me to death.  It turned out that she was, judging from the similar attacks in different cases but how was I to know that?  It still seemed crazy to me at the time. The ghost put a pillow over my face and laughed hysterically.  Then everything went black.  She must have determined that I had died because she just vanished.  The next thing I knew I was waking up in a hospital with tubes in my arms.  I pulled the oxygen mask off my face and asked a nurse what was going on.  She told me everything she knew and it all came back to me.  All the others were just like me.  Their pelvis bones were broken and there was a pillow found over the face of the body.  The only difference was I wasn’t quite dead.  Maybe she left me alive to tell about her, who knows.  I’m not very superstitious but I am certain that was the ghost of Anna Nicole Smith. 
            A real life encounter described by the only surviving victim is hard evidence to argue with.  Some denounce this encounter as “a senile old man fantasizing about ghost women.”  I doubt this.  Many of the things Mr. Rivers described were too real to make up.  Read his testimony over and notice the attention to detail.  If he were losing his mind could he bring back such accurate projections of his home, his surroundings?  I simply don’t find that argument  plausible.   
© Copyright 2007 Jimmy Crack Corn (wallace_b at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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