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Mairi bheag



Joined: 04 Mar 2005
Posts: 5094
Location: Scotland
Fear Me!

I spoke too soon. Why? What kind of fool was I? I cursed myself over and over for not considering the possibility, and thus I paced the deck of the immigrant-ship night after night, keeping watch in case…

Halfway through the second week I gave that up, and succumbed to my bunk. Then I was only kept awake by the desperate revelry of the folk below, the poor souls escaping poverty to find a dream that would, in most cases, perish in the rapidly-spreading slums of New York. At last, as we beat against the prevailing westerlies, exhaustion overtook me, and I slept as never before, disturbed only occasionally by a mocking nightmare.

Someone of my class, carrying a letter from an established citizen of the New World, visiting with a clear purpose and a return ticket – who would want to stay on this continent? – was spared the indignity of Ellis Island and the automatic, magnetic, inevitable degradation of the filling city. I was able to take a cab to an address which, if not exactly in a fashionable suburb, was at least solid and respectable.

It had been my father’s old colleague and former student Anatoly, an émigré from St Petersburg along with his Finnish wife Leena, who had written to me about what was troubling the sprawling, new city, about the strange whispers of terror in the night which had reached their ears from the slums. Anatoly had a worried look on his neatly-bearded face, and Leena was grave and silent as we sat over our evening meal. He said little, only confirmed what he had written to me. There was a nest somewhere between the teeming slums and the waterfront; there were tales of children having been taken, strange glowing figures seen abroad, and recently a full-grown man – an Irish priest – had been found dead, white, drained entirely of blood.

Anatoly shivered. “I dare do nothing!” he said. “I came to this continent to get away from this!”

But I suppose it had been inevitable that if there had been unheard-of, fugitive remnants of this kind and of their enthralled cult, they would have tried to come here. Ironically it would have been myself, and people like me, who may well have driven them here.

That night, Leena came to my room, and slipped into bed with me. Ten years my senior, she had been my first lover. Tonight she held me very close, and we offered each other our feminine sweetness once again – “To give you strength, dearest,” she said. She knew that the next night I would be at work, doing the task that her husband dared not attempt.

I spent the next day resting, reading the newspaper reports that Anatoly had collected – the hints of vampire activity – reading scripture (the Psalms for strength). As afternoon shadows lengthened, Anatoly brought me something wrapped in cloth. He unrolled it, and there was an oiled and honed sabre, ten or so short, sharpened stakes, a small crucifix on a chain, and several other, smaller items. I was surprised that he seemed to have kept them in such good order, and I accepted them gratefully. When I dressed to go out just before sunset, I had re-wrapped them just the way I wanted, with a strap to sling them over my shoulder.

I knew, as I walked from their house, that Anatoly was sitting, ashamed of his cowardice, in the parlour, and that Leena was watching from an upstairs window. I did not blame Anatoly at all for his fright, and for his caution. I was frightened myself, and wanted nothing more than to go home and to forget about all this. But what doctor worth her salt does not treat contagion?

As dusk fell, the slums were still busy. Gambling dens and whiskey bars were brightly-lit and bustling, prostitutes and hawkers plied their trade, the smell of fried food was in the air. Knots of men stood on corners, or prowled in squads, each group belonging to one gang or another – the Bowery Boys, the Fenians – and once my way was barred by a line of them. One, tall and wall-eyed, made a filthy remark to me. I bent down quickly, picked up two stones from the ground, and flung them at him, one after the other. The first whistled past his left ear, the second past his right. He snarled and made to lunge at me, but another gangster, the group’s lieutenant, restrained him.

“She missed me, though!” he grumbled.

“Damn fool!” said the other. “Her aim was perfect! You thank God you still have your eyes!”

He was right about that. He raised his hat.

“Ma’am, it is an honour to meet you,” he said. “If ever you have need of assistance, just shout ‘Bowery! Bowery!’ and we’ll come running!”

I thanked him, he stood aside and let me pass.

I walked those filthy streets as night darkened. One by one, lights went out. One by one, voices were stilled. One by one, shadowy figures hurried into what shelter they could find. Eventually, the slums contained only a few pin-pricks of light, only the occasional laugh, cry, or drunken muttering from behind some broken shutter. Still I paced the darkness, treading steadily, and as silently as I could, measuring each pool of half-light, each patch of shade, using every sense I had to plot my wanderings. Down towards the waterfront I followed a crooked alley, to the margin between festering, inhabited tenements and half-used warehouses, until I came to what I took to be the likely place – close to the nest according to Anatoly’s calculations, based on the reported incidents. Amongst some abandoned crates and barrels I found a place to sit. I sat, in total stillness, ignoring the slum-stench and the sewer-stench of the nearby river. I sat. I watched.

It was the moment when night reached its darkest and deepest and stillest that my senses suddenly became aware of a difference in the air. It became at once colder and more stifling. I suddenly perceived two figures coming down the alley – perceived rather than saw, because they were not visible as such, except as patches of greater darkness in the general dark, and figures because they gave the impression of human height. Each seemed to carry a candle, or at least there seemed to be a point of light going a little way ahead of each, as if it was a candle held in the hand, although no illumination was shed at all by these. As they passed my hiding place, they seemed to pause. I stiffened and held very still. It was as if they were sensing the air for a presence. I had learned techniques of mediation, stillness, and self-awareness designed to counter the blood-seeking of such as I knew them to be, but nevertheless I felt my neck flush, and thought that I might have given myself away. But the dark figures glided on, and disappeared into what seemed to be a warehouse.

As quickly and noiselessly as I could I followed them, almost feeling my way rather than seeing it. Once inside the half-open entrance of the warehouse, I could see and follow the glow of the two little lights. Always a short distance ahead of me, they seemed to descend ramps and stairways into the lowest basement, and then deeper, as if into the bowels of the earth. There was a musty, damp smell.

Ahead I could see their lights weaving to and fro, and more lights joining them – no, these were static. It occurred to me that they were lighting candles. As the pool of light around them seemed to grow, I edged as close as I could. Yes, they had been touching their dim tapers to candles lodged in old, ornate candlesticks and in sconces on the walls – two figures, cloaked and hooded in grey, gliding from place to place, illuminating everything but themselves. Having discarded their tapers, they threw off their cloaks.

Two of the most beautiful young women I have ever seen!

One golden-haired, pale, delicate, eyes as blue as gentians. She wore a shift of white silk, the waist high under her small bust. The other’s hair was crowswing-dark, her skin an even, Mediterranean olive colour, her eyes like emeralds. Her shift was also white, but slashed at the front to reveal the cleavage between two full but firm breasts.

The candles surrounded an ornate four-poster bed, out-of place so deep below this festering go-down. The two maidens – for so they must have been before they were sired – approached each other, and stood before the bed. The slightly taller of the two – the darker girl – had a little smile on her lips. The other looked deceptively bashful. I knew that she could be no such thing, but oh my, it was difficult to look at her prettiness and not succumb to it. If anything she was the more alluring of the two, even though the darker girl was the one who was swaying towards her, putting two hands round her waist, drawing her into an embrace. The swaying turned into a dance, as their bodies came together and the fair girl joined in. Their faces neared, the dark girl’s eyes closed, but the fair one’s stayed open, as if in wonder, as she was kissed by her companion.

It was a gentle brushing of lips to start with, then a mutual pouting pressure and a pulling-away, then a seeking with tongue-tips and a flirtatious fencing-match with them. These preliminary teasings over with, the girls unleashed their passion in a kiss which seemed to alloy their faces together into one. The dark girl’s fingers were deep in the other’s golden locks, the fair one’s were clamped behind the other’s shoulders. They drew each other as close as possible, and kissed a kiss to end all kisses!

I did not see how their shifts became unfastened, but all at once they were both standing naked on a little patch of white. Now the Mediterranean beauty was rubbing her left instep up her lover’s calf, and they were both moving their hands all over each other, as if each was experiencing the other’s shape for the first time – I doubted this, unless one of them was newly-sired, but that would only be conjecture on my part. The wandering of their hands became feverish and frenetic, secret places were touched, nipples became lodged between fingers, at certain touches they would gasp or pull apart before closing together again. They were in their beastly counterfeit of arousal, and indeed the air began to be suffused with the tang of sexual juices. I watched.

They sat on the bed, their legs still off to this side, each with one foot on the floor, their legs awkwardly tangled. Their kisses became lighter, just as passionate but as though each was picking a berry from a thorny bush. Their hands made little rushes at each other’s breasts, or at each other’s sex, exploring and withdrawing, eagerly testing. Yes, I was now sure that one of them was newly-sired, and that this love-making would be the pre-amble to mutual feeding to strengthen the newcomer. Still I watched.

Suddenly the darker girl pushed the other down onto the bed, and held her down by pressing on her shoulders. For a full minute they stared at each other, eyes seemingly locked together. I hardly dared breathe – the room was suddenly so still. Then the dark one straddled the fair girl, and slowly lowered herself towards her, letting her hair fall over both their faces. Then slowly she began to trail those jet tresses back and forth over her companions face, over her breasts and belly, and back to her face. Over and over again she did this, while the other gasped whenever those strands or hair passed over her nipples. Then the dark one came lower and lower, taking her weight on bent arms and on her knees. She flicked her hair behind her head and, still moving up, down, and across the other girl, lowered herself until it was her nipples which were tracing a pattern on the other’s face and body. She herself began to breathe deeply – I had to check myself here and remember that what she was doing was a counterfeit of breath, albeit a convincing one, with an arousing and self-arousing effect – as those nipples began to receive friction from below. The fair girl, now very aroused, began to make little bites at her companion’s nipples as they passed by her mouth, and to moan when they caused friction on her own. The bodies of both girls began to glow. Still I watched.

Eventually the dark girl’s movements began to change again. She raised herself almost into a cobra-like position, supported by outstretched arms, and began to grind her lower belly against that of her companion, mound against mound, thick, dark curls against downy, honey-coloured ones, clitoris against clitoris. Oh how well I knew this feeling myself, and could smell the humid scent of absolute arousal on the air. The fair girl was now kneading her own breasts, teasing her nipples in an almost painful way, using both her hands. Then she let go with one, and reached up to grasp at her darker companion’s breasts. On and on they pressed against each other, one bearing down, the other thrusting upward, legs crooked round each other, moans replaced by cries, eyes tightly closed. Still I watched – oh how I watched!

It seemed that they were about to climax, and to unleash their inhuman selves simultaneously. The dark-haired girl’s head was thrown back, and as she gasped I could see her fangs revealed. The face of the fair girl, supine on the bed, seemed to be locked in a rictus, and she too was displaying those terrible canines. Swiftly I unwrapped my gear – I had to catch them whilst they were totally distracted, or at least when they were exhausted from their love-making.

But their climax was suddenly cut short. Each one turned her head – and looked straight at me. The dark girl gave a filthy, obscene chuckle, as I stepped into the pool of light, with my sabre in my hand. they stood up and faced me, and I wavered. I wavered!

At that moment, out of the shadows stepped the ones I had not seen. I had been so captivated by the two girls’ rutting that my guard had come down, and my sixth sense had failed me. They were all around me, silent, strong, male and female, too many to count. All had their fangs bared. Their counterfeit had taken me in, their trap had been sprung, and I was in it.

“Bowery! Bowery!” I yelled, desperately.


*


No one came to my rescue. They took me. I despatched three of them beforehand, but there were too many of them. There is still enough humanity in me, however, to send out this warning, to give you advance notice that I am coming. First for you, fearful Anatoly; then my darling Leena we shall make love, but then I shall feed upon you. Then America – you are mine! A whole new continent, and believe me you shall fall, and be a nation of total darkness! When they took me and sired me they knew precisely what they were doing, for they now have a member of their cult and clan who is unmatched in resourcefulness, knowledge, and courage. For I am, or was before I left the day and became immortal – Anna Lund of Helsingfors!
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all posted material (c) Marie Marshall, unless otherwise stated.

Post Mon Jul 18, 2005 3:00 pm 
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chame70



Joined: 18 Nov 2004
Posts: 290
Location: South Florida
Fear Me

Mairi,
What an awesome story. Something that should be made into a play or movie!
I can just picture it "Anna Lund of Helsingfors" wow!
And yes, i would fear you with a sharpened oiled sabre and sharpened stakes!
Great story, will there be a continuation? I certainly hope so! I look forward to it my friend.
hugs
chame
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i love the scent of a womyn, the touch of a womyn, the taste of a womyn

Post Mon Jul 18, 2005 5:36 pm 
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Mairi bheag



Joined: 04 Mar 2005
Posts: 5094
Location: Scotland


High sister!

Maybe there will! This story is in itself a continuation of "Mala the Last Vampire", sort of!

I'm glad you like it.

hugs

Mb
xx
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all posted material (c) Marie Marshall, unless otherwise stated.

Post Mon Jul 18, 2005 5:44 pm 
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chrissy



Joined: 16 Apr 2005
Posts: 157
Location: Montreal


I love it when the bad guys win!!! I liked this one mommy, I really did.
So evilly erotic Twisted Evil

-chrissy
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copula - originating from the Latin noun for a "link or tie" that connects two different things...

Post Mon Jul 18, 2005 8:23 pm 
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Mairi bheag



Joined: 04 Mar 2005
Posts: 5094
Location: Scotland


Thank you, No1 daughter, I'm glad you did!

Maybe, just maybe the story isn't over yet - who knows?

Mb
xx
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all posted material (c) Marie Marshall, unless otherwise stated.

Post Mon Jul 18, 2005 8:59 pm 
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Elbereth



Joined: 25 Mar 2005
Posts: 311


You definitely should continue this story, Mairi. I love it how you manage to create such a dark and yet erotic atmosphere! It made me shiver (for several reasons Wink )
Hugs, Elbereth
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All good things are wild, and free.
(Henry David Thoreau)

Post Tue Jul 19, 2005 10:38 am 
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Mairi bheag



Joined: 04 Mar 2005
Posts: 5094
Location: Scotland


Glad you shivered, Elf! Twisted Evil

I might have one or two ideas...

Mb
xx
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all posted material (c) Marie Marshall, unless otherwise stated.

Post Tue Jul 19, 2005 11:48 am 
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RainDrop



Joined: 31 May 2005
Posts: 109
What shall I say!

Dear Mairi,
I am not sure how I will put this into words... I always enjoy your writings Because I see you in them...., and this story is very well written, I felt I was watching a film, it is beautiful it isn't anymore erotic or some dark vampire story, erotica isn't anymore erotic with you and your writings, you manage to give it a new identity, another dimension, and you always sign each of your writings with your spirit, and I believe this is what makes your writings "amazing".
God bless you Mairi.
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Sometimes we whisper wisdom when we sound nonsense.

Post Tue Jul 19, 2005 9:17 pm 
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Mairi bheag



Joined: 04 Mar 2005
Posts: 5094
Location: Scotland


Dear RainDrop - thank you.

Another reader has pointed out some gaps or flaws in this story, but that has spurred me to consider following it up with another.

I am so grateful for your comments and compliments, dear little friend.

Mb
xx
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all posted material (c) Marie Marshall, unless otherwise stated.

Post Wed Jul 20, 2005 3:41 am 
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RainDrop



Joined: 31 May 2005
Posts: 109


My dear Mairi,
I have to say I agree with your reader. When I was reading the story, I had to stop at some point and ask some questions ( I didn't mention it in my first post because I was shy to do so Embarassed ), but nevertheless dear Mairi, honestly It IS a GOOD story to me, because I more concentrate on what you offer when you write, It isn't something easy for me to express about in words, one just have to know HOW to read your stories and poems, I enjoy looking at what they reflect- I think you know what I mean.
And by the way, I liked how you ended your story.
RainDrop!
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Sometimes we whisper wisdom when we sound nonsense.

Post Wed Jul 20, 2005 11:59 am 
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Mairi bheag



Joined: 04 Mar 2005
Posts: 5094
Location: Scotland


Thanks again RainDrop.

The next story in this trilogy (or more?) is already in my head. Some of the gaps will be plugged. Unfortunately, as I think it through, it is becoming more and more like an Anne Rice story. I shall have to think of some way to counter that!

Mb
xx
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all posted material (c) Marie Marshall, unless otherwise stated.

Post Wed Jul 20, 2005 6:56 pm 
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RainDrop



Joined: 31 May 2005
Posts: 109


I am sure you will find a way Mairi.
Best of luck,
RainDrop
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Sometimes we whisper wisdom when we sound nonsense.

Post Wed Jul 20, 2005 7:56 pm 
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femmevirgo



Joined: 20 Apr 2005
Posts: 339
Location: East Coast


Great write Mairi,

I still have my favorita...Mala....but I like this one as well......Thanks for letting me know this one is up...Im telling you woman, you could defintely give Anne Rice some good competition.....!!!!
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Post Wed Jul 20, 2005 8:05 pm 
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Mairi bheag



Joined: 04 Mar 2005
Posts: 5094
Location: Scotland


Hi femmevirgo - long time no see!

I am glad you like this. Following several suggestions, I have a third story up my sleeve which will tie up the loose ends from "Mala" and "Fear Me". Unfortunately it does need a lengthy...er...interview with a vampire, so I am going to be caught in a trap, even though I have read so little of Rice's stuff.

Mb
xx
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all posted material (c) Marie Marshall, unless otherwise stated.

Post Thu Jul 21, 2005 1:46 am 
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JackieCrimson



Joined: 15 Sep 2005
Posts: 140
Location: Great Britain


I can't wait for the third story!

JackieCrimson

Post Sat Sep 24, 2005 8:57 am 
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