He awoke a few moments later, his body laying upon a rough, wooden altar. The smell of smoke was everywhere, and the sound of a hundred chanting voices filled the night. A naked Marsha loomed above him, straddling his unclothed torso.
“Marsha,” he tried to focus through the fog. “What’s happening?”
“Be still, my love. Drink this,” she said, leaning forward to offer him a wooden chalice. “It’ll make a new man out of you.”
“What,” he tried to ask again, but the cup was already at his lips. Its fiery liquid poured down his throat, spilling over his face and down the side of his neck. The liquid hit his stomach and sent waves of heat burning through his body. He was suddenly aware of the naked woman before him like never before. “Ha,” she crooned, wriggling against his hardness. “He is finally awake!” Benny groaned as he slid into her wetness. Finally they would be together.
“Marsha,” he gasped, as she rode him back and forth.
“Fuck me, Benny,” she laughed. “Fuck me, the Goddess commands it.” Benny did as he was bid, thrusting hard into her, his brain a red fog. “Yes,” she screamed. “Fuck me! Bring the master forth.” Benny barely heard her. He could feel his orgasm building as he reached up to grasp her glorious breasts, but his hand found only flattened skin flaps.
“What?” he cried, scrabbling at her waist. “What’s happening?” he screamed, clawing at her back until his twisting fingers found the rough stitching. They became entangled as he tried to pull away, and the woman above him shrieked with laughter as the torn skin ripped off of her. Benny started to scream as Marsha’s flesh fell away, revealing the hag from the forest.
“No,” he screamed weakly, pawing at her face, pulling as the flesh that had once belonged to Marsha slid from the woman. A bloody mask landed on his chest, glistening in the moonlight. And yet she still rode him, grinding at his unwilling flesh as Benny tried to pull away from her, out of her. She pinned him down, her thighs clamping down hard by his side. She chuckled obscenely, running a sharp fingernail down Benny’s chest and drawing blood.
“Cum for me,” she intoned. “Spray your seed into me. Bring forth He Who Walks the Darkened Forest. Bring forth the God of the Wild Hunt, our Devourer of Small Children.”
“No,” Benny screamed. “Get off me!” But he had come too far, betrayed by his treacherous flesh and the magic that grew heavy all about him. He cried out, spurting into her molten core. The hag above him wailed in triumph, leering down at him.
“We thank you for your service,” she grinned. “But now you must d…” But that was as far as she got. Suddenly her eyes widened, and blood shot from her mouth in a great glut. It covered Benny’s chest as she doubled over, falling down onto the forest floor. She began to jerk and convulse, black smoke pouring from her screaming mouth, from her ears and even her bulbous eyes. As Benny watched on in horror her stomach began to stretch and grow, bulging and pulsating, her skin stretched tight. “He comes,” she moaned, reaching out, twisting her fingers towards the sky. She let out an ear-piercing shriek as her stomach erupted in a shower of steaming blood and gore.
Benny tried to get up, to run as far away as he could, but he was unable to move. He watched the horror that slid from the woman’s ruined remains onto the forest floor, where the thing lay mewling and glistening in the moonlight. The surrounding people stopped their Hellish chanting. They began to writhe and claw at themselves, tearing at their eyes and ripping at one another’s flesh in an orgy of blood and sex. The creature had started to grow now, its bone and sinew forming as it grew bigger, its antler-like horns gouging the forest floor as it cried out in pain.
At last the terrible transformation was complete. It staggered to its feet on crooked legs, its lidless eyes glowing like hot coals in the darkness. It had become a great, hulking beast, its body covered in patches of brown fur. Its muzzle wrinkled back in a terrible smile as it watched the humans writhe and bleed on the forest floor.
“God save me,” Benny gasped, rolling naked from the altar. He staggered to his feet before falling down onto the damp ground. At the sound of his voice the creature’s head swivelled towards him, great antlers gleaming like bone in the moonlight.
“Father,” it said. Benny began to scream. The creature smiled, reaching out with a cloven hand.
“Father!”
Dale Drake
About the Author
Dale Drake was born in Lancashire, England in 1975 and now resides in Cornwall with his wife and three children. After his career in the army, Dale moved to Hertfordshire to train to become a chef but his real love and passion has always been writing. Dale’s first book, Blood Heritage, was written whilst he was still attending college and is a high fantasy book full of sword wielding heroes, dark magic and blood thirsty vampires. His second book, Dark Waters, was written some years later after he moved to Cornwall where he was heavily influenced by H.P. Lovecraft and his love of the sea. His stories are set in and around his home village where he finally feels he belongs.
Knotwork Hill
C.W. Blackwell
I reach Bill and Judi’s cabin just before nightfall. The sun is setting behind the remnants of an evening storm and there’s a heavy wind in
