Awake

Awake

13:17:19

I lie awake; staring at the ceiling of this lonely cell I call my room. The ceiling does odd things in the dark when you stare at it long enough, moving and shifting to create a senseless vertigo, a sense of nothingness, a sense of timelessness and a very disturbing sense of desolation.

I dream. The most beautiful woman I have ever known stands before me, her raven hair flowing out behind her as if caught by a stray breeze, yet I feel no wind. Her sparkling eyes of exotic indigo catch the non-existent light and reflect back sparks of the bluest flame. Her eyes seem to hold a desire in their depths but every time I try to gaze into them she turns away; perhaps because I could not call to her? Perhaps for reasons only she can fathom in this dreamscape. And then this fraught scene always changes: I see her at the other end of a long stretch of beach. The sun is hot and glaring, the sand warm and white, but as I try to go to her, this woman of my dreams, she moves further away, not even looking my way and the sand metamorphoses into a black glass that burns with every step I take until it feels as if the very skin on my feet has been seared off and the flesh falls loose showing the bleached white bone and sinew beneath. I give voice to a cry. My very self pleads to her for help, but she is no longer there, there is only nothingness once again. And I wake shivering in a cold sweat with the sheet clenched in a death-grip from the imagined agony. Rest eludes me for the remainder of the night and the days become a terror of exhaustion and desire.

Jun-06

I saw her today! This woman in my dreams... as I was retrieving my mail from my post office box I glanced up and she was there, at the counter, apparently sending a package of some sort. I was taken aback. I truly didn’t think she was real, but there she was before me.

“How was she in my mind before I ever noticed her?” I wondered aloud to myself, feeling a little woozy, and earning a reproachful look from the teller who must have overheard. I decided I was going to return every day hoping for another glance and some sort of explanation.

After three more days of misery I saw her again. This time she was checking her own P.O. box and she smiled so, so sweetly when she noticed me looking (although I think it was more like staring) and I was able to bring myself to say “hi” in a meek voice that I barely recognized as my own.

“Bonjour,” she replied, and then her smile changed dramatically. The sweetness was all of a sudden gone, becoming almost predatory, and a chill, like icy fingers, traced along my spine. Frozen in place, I watched her turn and walk out.
Curiosity killed the cat, so the saying goes and, with that thought, my own curiosity took on a tinge of apprehension or maybe even fear, yet grew even more intense and exciting as the days stretched into weeks.

The nightmare took on a new cast as time wound onward. Now she turned to look at me with that wicked smile when I called to her, but she still turned away and disappeared, her visage seared into my vision, the smirk almost pulsing with wickedness I couldn’t comprehend.


My obsession for this woman grew greater and greater as well. I began to feel a need, a drive to see her and have her. I was nearly insane in my determination when I finally caught her again, this time in the little store on the corner of my very block.

I went in to buy cigarettes and her glossy black mane, the blue black of a raven, caught my attention. She was perusing the chocolate, and when I looked at her she glanced up with that smile yet again. But this time things turned out differently. She walked over to me and took my hand and with the touch a jolt ran through me as if I were struck by lightning. It was painful, but not enough to turn me away and I stared in numb fascination at this beautiful creature.

“Angelic,” was all she said in a near whisper and I felt a fleeting panic cross my thoughts, there and gone so fast I thought I had imagined it. If only I had listened to instinct.

But anyway, I digress…

I got back home and pulled the change out of my pocket and found a thin white piece of paper that wasn’t there when I left, apparently she had slipped her phone number to me although I don’t remember her being close enough to do that. She must have been because here was the proof right in my grasp, but it was making me crazy. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t even know what to feel about this woman. Everything seemed an enormous bundle of confusion in my brain and I decided to try to sleep, everything else could wait.

Only, sleep didn’t come. I couldn’t get her out of my mind, the raven hair and dark eyes haunted my vision, her wicked smile enticed and frightened me. Her number was now seared into my memory and I kept replaying it behind my closed eyes. I finally got up to pour myself a glass of wine.

I sat down and just stared at the wine glass as thoughts of this woman haunted me and without even realizing it I had picked up the phone. It seemed as if my fingers had a mind of their own as I dialed the number; I didn’t want to and I consciously tried to force my hands to not move but they kept up with their rebellion and I heard the ringing on the other end begin. I didn’t expect an answer at this hour so I was shocked into utter speechlessness when I heard her voice issue the statement, “I’ve been wondering when you would get the balls to call me.” Her voice was soft, almost like a caress but insult was clear and I almost hung up the phone right then. Almost…

“Who are you?” I asked rather scornfully, yet quietly, and she laughed a musical laugh that sent chills down my spine.

“I’m coming to see you, you know that, right?” was her only reply.

Before I could stop myself, an excited “I’ll be waiting” issued forth and I hung up the phone. It was then that I stopped to wonder how she would find me since I hadn’t given her an address. Yet, somehow I knew that she would.

I decided I needed coffee instead of wine ‘cause there would beno more sleep this night. So I put on a pot. I turned on the TV to the news on mute; a body bag was being removed from a recent housefire. The has-been flames still issued smolders in places and much smoke. The usual crowd of ‘rubber-neckers’ (you know who you are) strained to see someone else’s nightmare, seemingly looking concerned, but really it was their own greed, their own need to know that all was well in their own little world, and I turned away, preferring to watch the coffee in the making. I leaned the chair back, as I was always told not to do, and stared at the darkening liquid.

Guess I fell asleep because I started suddenly when the knock came, and, bizarrely, I didn’t remember any time passing yet there was no coffee left in the pot. All that remained was this tar-like substance that was boiling and stewing still.

The knock came insistently the second time and I struggled to relinquish myself from the grasp of the chair. Still fighting a near daze, I reached for the knob and hesitated for a moment, it was 4:30 am and someone was pounding hard on my door and not announcing themselves… and then I remembered Angelic.

The sight awaiting me was like nothing I had ever known. There she stood before me; a black t-shirt tied just under her ample breasts revealed a midsection the complexion and seeming texture of vanilla ice cream to be interrupted by short black shorts the color of midnight in its darkest hour. Long smooth legs were revealed in a sort of glow from the ambient kitchen light all the way down to her black Nikes, the swoosh so dark it stood in contrast against the leather background (I don’t know why I would notice a thing like this but it seems right to mention that I did). Her long raven hair flowed across her shoulders and her slightly feline visage was cloaked in shadow. I stood stunned for a moment and she placed a hand on my chest and proceeded to push me back into my apartment wearing that wicked looking grin. For the first time I was truly afraid.

That look welded me in place as she moved closer. She raked her claws at me and I was absolutely stunned and horrified at the sight that they really were claws, black as pitch and more than an inch long, they gleamed in the dull light. They quite resembled the claws of a cat, and the apparent look on my face made her chuckle, smokily, seductively. And she raked her claws at me harder on my chest and my t-shirt parted as easily as the thin layer of skin underneath, which immediately began to bleed, but only slightly.

“Took ya long enough,” she reiterated in her quiet humor, as she grabbed my shoulders, claws digging in and shoved me backwards toward the couch. The radio blared to life with Rob Zombie’s “Living Dead Girl” and I stared in numb horror as she edged closer to me.

But she backed off and, with claws gone, began to slowly strip. Whatever it was that had attacked me was no longer in evidence, but I watched closely, looking for even the remotest clues as to her intentions. This woman had a shy, innocent look on her face and she was so stunning that it was impossible for me to break eye contact. She swayed ever so slightly as she began with her shirt, revealing brief glimpses of the treasures underneath, then more and more, the longer she danced. Shirt off, she moved lithely and smoothly, serpentine method.

She leaned forward and kissed me, and all thought fled from my mind. I was hers, to do with as she wished and she continued to dance and writhe in a never ceasing display of her perfect skin. The shorts so easily slid down her legs. She wore no panties and she was absolutely clean-shaven. I stared in unbridled lust as she slowly kicked her shorts completely across the room, never ceasing her enticing dance. She moved closer once again and began to kiss my chest lightly and seductively along the thin wells of the scratches she caused and began pulling my own shorts down. She followed the progress with her lips and then returned, straight to my rock hard penis and pulled me into her mouth. Euphoria couldn’t begin to compare to this, and I leaned my head back, temporarily incapacitated, reveling in the ever-increasing tightness of her lips around me, almost to the point of explosion. Then she bit me.

I screamed in pain and horror and watched blood begin to rivulet down the shaft. She glanced up at me and the sight of her caught my panicked breath and my attempt to scream. Her eyes were the pale green and yellow of a vicious wildcat, and the pupils were vertical like that of a serpent. The claws were back now too as I felt blood flow from my thighs, where her grip resided. She chuckled at me again in her sultry voice, “Pouvez-vous goûter le sang et feu?” I had no reply; my voice was trapped in my throat.

She pulled herself atop me, no, she lunged onto me with the grace and swiftness of the animal within her, and she took me inside her, cutting into my chest with every thrust. She was having me, hurting me, I knew she was going to kill me and I didn’t care. I had to feel this one last fuck for I knew it was going to be the fuck of my dreams, or, of my nightmares. As she grinded and writhed on me, she moaned in her deep voice and I could feel myself growing even larger inside her. Every sense seemed heightened, oddly twisted and magnified like nothing else you can describe, a new perception, her pussy clinching me so tightly and coming down onto me so deeply that I scarcely need to move was perfection. The ecstasy of being inside her, of being hers even as she murdered me overwhelmed me, my dick was aching and pulsing and almost numb, yet I felt every muscle of hers contracting on me, and I felt her wetness seeping out of her onto me. In longing desperation to have a part in this willing torture, I put my hands on her hips and pulled her harder into me, we were coming together violently and painfully and with that, her eyes turned to blue again, her muscles tightened around me and she began to fuck me in a way I cannot describe completely. The intensity was to the nth degree, more than I could bear, and I knew I was going to cum, yet I didn’t want to. I needed to fuck this woman for hours, but as I began moaning, she grabbed my balls and squeezed so tightly that, from sheer pain, my ejaculation was halted, and I had no choice but to scream. Her amber eyes returned and met mine in a gaze that left me in terror and she had that smirk that left me cold. She leaned in to kiss me and it was the most intensely terrifying, yet awesome and passionate kiss I had ever known. I drove into her with all the intensity I had, over and over, we moaned into each other’s mouths. I began to fill up again and pulsate inside her, it hurt, it was pleasure unknown before and unmatched and she began to squeeze me and growl and ride me faster and harder, and I thought, “I’m making this woman cum. This dominatrix. This IS the fuck of my life.”

And as she was riding her tits bounced so perfectly and she said through her breathless passion, “Personne a les balles me saisir brutalement et me baiser deja comme ca.” And she came, hard, with a high-pitched tone I can only describe as a howl, as she began raking my chest with every orgasm. And I came inside her with such force that she sank her claws into my stomach as she squeezed my cock intensely, draining it of every last drop of my semen. My intense pleasure turned to horror though as I noticed that her claws, glistening with blood and bits of torn skin, were continuously digging into my stomach and chest, I couldn’t yell even though the pain was unbearable, until she reached my heart...

I awoke to the sound of busting glass. As I got up from the chair to investigate, the realization that my whole evening was just a dream hit me when I saw that the coffee pot had exploded and amid all that broken glass was a slip of paper, with a phone number on it…

Jun-13

I write this in hopes that someone may understand my plight, my insanity. The dreams have continued for days now, I can’t go on like this anymore. These have been hard days and I can no longer fight. Goodbye.



Obituary: Johnny Renfield of 315 Spavined Ln. was pronounced D.O.A. at Pigeon community hospital on June 14, 2006 at 7:32 am, of an apparent suicide, yet speculation remains.” An investigation will take place,” says Police Sergeant Daniel Mathers.