Predator"s Desire free porn video

I wrote this to evoke a slight shiver in my readers. I hope this story makes you feel as if I stepped on your grave.



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Predator's Desire

“Reading is one form of escape. Running for your life is another.” - Lemony Snicket

I wish this story had a happy ending, I really do. Still, as I stand outside Sarah's work with a hood in my hands and zip ties on a D-ring carabiner, I suspect it won't.

How did I even get here? I'm truly baffled. I had always been the nice guy. So how did I end up here, minutes away from raping someone who had told me no?

That's not to say I couldn't make someone shit themselves if they didn't know me. My time in combat zones had put a bit of steel in my backbone and an edge to my gaze. Yet, when people got to know me, they enjoyed my company.

I was the man most fathers wish their daughters were dating and with whom their sons were friends. I worked in the public service sector, usually helping the less fortunate communities. In short, I was the good guy.

I had known Sarah for nearly a decade. Our group of friends would routinely game online together for many hours every week. I had been witness to her relationship failures and dreams.

We were very open about our lives and, truthfully, my fantasies were pretty vanilla compared to hers. She did get teased a bit for being so damn horny all the time, but I think most of our group were all nymphos so it was just friendly ribbing. I know I was just as horny; I was just better at hiding my habit of multiple daily masturbation sessions.

It's not as if I lacked female companionship, I had enough confidence that I was comfortable in my ability to score at the bar. Fun fact I never shared with my friends, but I am secretly a hopeless romantic. My empathy is through the roof, so I had to learn how to guard my feelings.

“I believe the most empathetic people can easily become the cruelest if they put their mind to it.” - The Dark Librarian, as he passed by the irradiated remains of Atlanta, GA. Circa 2085 A.D.

As my mind shifts back to the present, my eyes trace the contours of the inside of the borrowed van I am using. Sarah wouldn't recognize it. I don't know why, but that fills me with sadness. Maybe I want someone to stop me, I really don't know anymore. As my eyes wander out to the sign of the Rent-A-Car agency that Sarah works at, my mind drifts to the events of the last few months.

- - - - - -

I'd had a light crush on Sarah for years. I had never said anything due to not wanting to wreck a beautiful friendship or ruin our group dynamics.

That had all changed a few months ago when we all had the chance to hang out in person. Sarah was a bit more forward than I was accustomed to. She thought she was socially awkward and... perhaps she was. I, however, was fascinated by her seemingly openly living out her life and sexuality.

Fuck it!, but I was jealous. I wish I could so easily live my life like that. Oh, who am I kidding!?! I doubt it was easy for her. She had a similarly strict religious upbringing to myself. And, given my knowledge of her, it must have been hell. Fuck, I was aroused.

How did this witchy little Strix worm her way into my heart? Nay, not a Strix, but perhaps a Naiad. Sending her Siren’s call deep within my soul. Her openness and the fact she shared it with me was an ambrosia to my soul.

- - - - - -

And time snapped again; and I was watching the lights turn off inside. 'No, go back inside! Are you serious? You're 45kg, soaking wet. There's too many areas with low visibility, an attacker could be anywhere! Run, Sarah! Run!’

‘Or don't,’ the logical side of me chuckled darkly. It's so easy. As easy as sneaking up behind two enemies in Afghanistan and killing their dog in total silence not one meter behind them so an op could continue as a stealth mission. Those hadn't been the only skills I'd learned in the war.

Did the lock just twitch?

“Right or wrong, I can hardly tell.” - Five Finger Death Punch, Wrong Side Of Heaven

- - - - - -

And, like that, time blinked again. And I saw her face light up in simple joy at seeing me. She squealed out my name and ran over to hug me. I half-wrapped my arm around her, but she squeezed me tightly. I easily laughed, a practiced smile to accompany it, as my easy going nature washed across my face. It's amazing how few people remember a washed face merely shows what it wants the world to see.

A bemused smile graced my features. And hey, I'm a bemused person most of the time. A veritable sheepdog, contentedly taking care of their flock. Not the sheepdog's fault that he did as trained and noticed every detail, including his flock. Damn that bewitching ewe!

Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? - William Blake

- - - - - -

It was the adrenaline rush I noticed, after my next blink. No, the lock hadn't moved. Every place has a closing or shift change procedure. Humanity will survive the apocalypse as long as there’s a schedule.

"Alternate routes! Every time you go out, alternate routes." "Watch your 10s and 25s," a half-remembered combat instructor yelled inside my head. A snarl worked its way up my lip, memories were not welcome here.

There was time. The schedule had to be kept after all. The adrenaline was dying down. I was going into a holding pattern with my body. The seconds were counting down; my breath became smoother. The logical side took over. The transition was smooth and seamless. Everybody has to do their job.

When did my job stop being the sheepdog? How did I get here?

- - - - - -

Sarah snuggled up next to me as we watched Howl’s Moving Castle. Or was it Metalocalypse or Happy Tree Friends? I truly don’t know. I was intensely aware of the shared warmth where our bodies touched. Did she notice it like I did? Surrounded by our friends, I just enjoyed that she was beside me. That damn sheepdog tendency. I had to protect. I must protect. Protecting was in my blood, through either nature or nurture.

A hooded glance at my side urged every fiber of my being, defend. I was good at that. Don’t worry little lamb, I’m here. Everything was right in the world, this was a job I was good at. I’m a protector after all. I’ll keep the wolves at bay.

- - - - - -

The zipties bumping against my right thigh brought my mind to this moment, as I awaited Sarah’s nightly rituals to conclude. It was a feeling I was used to. Flashes of Talib fighters ziptied meters away from an assortment of rifles danced through my head as my mind went on high alert.

I chuckled. What if someone else decided tonight was a good idea for a hunt at the local Rent-A-Car? A smile threatened to split my face. That would turn out very poorly for them. This was a lone wolf operation tonight. The thought of someone else attacking Sarah united dog and wolf, protector and predator. Not tonight. Not Sarah. Sarah, my masochist queen.

When did things get so mixed up? I’m the good guy.

“The moral of Snow White is never eat apples.” - Lemony Snicket

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It was a good guy that had Sarah jump on his back so he could carry her around the park. Her light laughter echoed through my ears as I served as her humble beast of burden. Not even the Biblioburro would carry a more precious cargo. I could feel the trust she had in me as I carried her around, her light frame hugging my neck.

Why did this wondrous beast exist and why did she like me? They say there’s always a person out there who will drive you to distraction. Was it our similar backgrounds and interests? Was it simply that she was living her life as she wanted, while I merely existed in mine? Whatever it was, the beast was awakening. And it knew what it wanted.

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The beast watched the burrow for its prey. It was nearly time. The hunger gnawed the belly. Nearly time. A light yelp from the back of my mind, ‘Run Sarah, run.’ It was useless. There’d be no running tonight. When I put my mind to it, prey would never get away. It was prey. That was its purpose. I’m a predator, that’s my purpose.

I had already mapped the place out. A reflective ball cap and face mask had turned me into one of the many non-de*********** characters you’d expect to see in any small town. I was proud of my ability to blend. That had allowed me to wander around and see if I could find any trouble points that might make the night’s mission fail. Fortunately, I didn’t run into too many issues. It helped that it should be a fairly simple grab.

- - - - - -

I still remember my surprise when Sarah plopped down next to me while I'd been on a dirty site. I had to have blushed, yet Sarah didn't say anything even though I knew she recognized the site. This was a girl who got me.

She understood the substance abuse. We all have vices after all. I just happened to use mine a bit more liberally. I’d never told anyone the reason why I preferred the world with a bit of haze to it. I have no doubt that Sarah would understand that sometimes the nightmares and memories wake you up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, right?

- - - - - -

It wasn't sweat that brought me into the present. It was the saliva that gathered in my mouth. I was excited. My cold gaze swept across the Rent-A-Car agency. It was nearly time.

When did I become the predator? Honestly, it was after the prey became too tempting. The cold steel of the K-Bar along my left leg lent to the chilling reality of the moment. There would be no going back after tonight.

- - - - - -

Sarah had felt comfortable enough to share her darkest fantasies with me. Truthfully, it was a bit farther than I had ever explored. I had developed a feedback loop where my satisfaction was raised based on my partner's enjoyment. Pain and terror had never done anything for me, but I had a bit of enlightenment as to why others enjoyed such things.

Yet Sarah… somehow awoke something within that I couldn't explain. It was the raw innocence that she exuded, combined with her dirty little mind. It made me want her so much. A sheepdog shouldn't feel such things for his flock. Maybe an old dog could learn new tricks.

- - - - - -

It was the sheepdog that noticed the door handle turn as Sarah started her journey home. ‘No, please don't! Run! Please, please, just run for my sake.’

The Wolf was pleased as the goosebumps raised on it’s skin. Few people can at will call on the chemical cocktail needed for the fight or flight response that causes goosebumps, but I can. The excitement that normally signified a fight, rushed through my system. Strange, as I doubt this will be much of a fight.

- - - - - -

Strange would also describe the way I viewed relationships. Sex and feelings were at once intertwined and separate. I had no problem with my partner having other sexual relationships at the same time. In my opinion, sex was simply a release. Yet… inexplicably the emotional connection could blast my sex drive through the roof.

It had truly been a magical weekend and it changed things for me. No longer did I want to sit back and watch this enchanting creature stumble through life on her own. No… I wanted to be alongside her. When life would dare to blindside, I wanted to be the bulwark. After all, isn't that what a sheepdog is all about? I'm the good guy here, right?

- - - - - -

Sarah smoothly stepped outside and turned to lock the door. With a practiced turn of the hand, the lock smoothly latched in place. Actions she had done a thousand times. The good guy had been locked in his cage. Tonight… there was only predator… and prey!

The wolf hunched, waiting to lunge in ambush. Four steps between it and the successful completion of the hunt. Step one, wait for Sarah to start to put her key in the lock. Step two, open the sliding van door. Step three, pin her against the door of her own car. Step four, use one arm to stop her struggle and the other to slide the hood on her head.

Why grandma, what a big nose you have!

All the better to smell you with, my dear!

-Little Red Riding Hood, as told by The Wolf

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It was the smell that really drove me insane. I swear the little minx just emanated pheromones. Though, it might have just possibly been that she was wet all the time. That little Nymph! Was she doing it on purpose? The animal part of my brain would wake up when she was near. Mine! Others needed her permission to be in her presence, but I was special. She always seemed a bit happier when she saw me.

That might have been why I finally got up the nerve. I’d act, dammit! Yes, it might poorly affect the friendship. I’d have to word it just right so that she had an easy out. The old, well it was either you or the apple pie maneuver. Make it seem casual. And truthfully, maybe I thought it could be casual too.

- - - - - -

Sarah began her walk toward her car. One foot after the other. The moment between footfalls seemed to stretch for an eternity of agony and anticipation as sheepdog and wolf watched. She made her way across the lot. How did time seem to move both fast and slow? Was it in an instant or an eternity that she managed to cross halfway?

She stopped. SHE STOPPED!!! Why did she stop? Maybe she knew! Maybe against all my planning, her instinct had proved superior. ‘Run! Run Sarah, run! Now’s your chance! Set off some car alarms. Run in the opposite direction along the empty road and hope someone appears.’

“Hope at its core is taking an impossibility and turning it into a possibility.” - Pope Francis at a gangbang

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It was hope that drove me to type the words in my phone. Fourteen words that forever changed our friendship. Changed because I was putting in writing what, at best, had been alluded to or casually flirted around. No matter what, things couldn’t go back to how they were. No matter how hard one could try, there was no erasing those fourteen words. Pushing send was easily the best and worst action that I had ever made.

Immediately a sick feeling wormed its way into my stomach. What the fuck was wrong with me? I was a combat vet. Hmmm… 19 minutes since she was last online. Fuck, hopefully this feeling would go away. It shouldn’t be but a couple hours until Sarah was online and seeing her messages if she held true to form. Just a couple hours to get through and the sick feeling would go away. I’d know. Just a few more hours.

- - - - - -

Just a few more seconds until she reached her car, but she had stopped! Did she know? The wolf wasn’t worried. His planning should continue unimpeded. Still, the best laid plans of mice and all that. There was always a possibility that Murphy’s law would raise its ugly head.

Oh, she’s just checking her phone. I wonder what she’s doing? Her thumb danced across the black mirror in her hand and then she put her hand away. My phone vibrated from its place on the dash, Sarah’s picture appearing momentarily. She had texted me something. A warmth surged at how she always tended to have something new to share with me. A quote or an idea. A meme or a picture of a cat. We truly are a generation that live and die by our phones.

- - - - - -

The phone never rang. I waited. Night fell and I just felt drained. Eh, stuff happens, maybe she’d open her phone by the morning. I awoke to a morning where time had stopped on the Sarah front.Still no answer. Not one. The hours of the morning passed excruciatingly slow.

I’m not one to wait around forever to deal with potential problems. I decided that she had seen the notification and had wanted to avoid a friendship-altering conversation. Yes or no? I needed to know. And so I sent Sarah a much longer message that was very clear about what I was interested in. Would my little lamb be interested?

“And it is not an unheard thing if the Wolf is thereby provided with his dinner. I say Wolf, for all wolves are not of the same sort; there is one kind with an amenable disposition – neither noisy, nor hateful, nor angry, but tame, obliging and gentle, following the young maids in the streets, even into their homes. Alas! Who does not know that these gentle wolves are of all such creatures the most dangerous!” - Charles Perrault, explaining the morals contained within his tale Little Red Riding Hood

- - - - - -

Sarah’s steps resumed across the parking lot, but she looked lighter. Was she thinking about her recent text? She was at the end of her car now. Just a couple more steps and she would turn to put her key in the door.

Those last couple steps would have imprinted themselves in the minds of onlookers had there been any. They would have seen civilizations rise and fall, destroying themselves in an instant or an eternity. Nobody was there though, so the only reliable account seemed to come from the Wolf.

- - - - - -

It seemed as if the air had dried out around me. I was waiting for a text that never came. Finally after two days of waiting, Sarah texted me back.

She’d had a recent obsession that had pulled her into its world and didn’t release her from its clutches for the longest time. Thus she had missed my original text and the follow up clarification. A curtain had been lifted about an aspect of her friend she hadn’t seen revealed before, but this was not a welcome opera.

- - - - - -

The Wolf gazed as Sarah fumble with her key for a moment. That was step one. The moment was now. The universe held its breath as the van door slid open. Step two was finished. Sarah started to simultaneously jump and turn as the sound startled her. Step three caught her mid jump and crushed her against her car.

Her confused brain let out a yelp as the foreignness of the moment caught her off guard. Before she could get herself together enough, step four let it’s arm find purchase on her not-yet struggling body. It held her in place as the hood was slipped over Sarah’s head. The darkness became consuming.

“All men are the same in the dark.” - Helen Keller, as she worked the pole at Alley Cats

- - - - - -

The fog of uncertainty faded as the light of knowledge drifted into his brain. His heart leapt as her first paragraph assuaged his fear of being ignored, of not being important enough for her to take the time to deal with his advances.

And then his heart plummeted as he read on. He could read between the lines. She truly wished that there was a possibility as he had described.Nevertheless, the siren call of her own Phantom rang in her ears. His dream fell to the possibility that her dream could be realized.

“It was written I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice.” - Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

- - - - - -

Sarah’s dream filled head quickly gave way to an unending nightmare of darkness. She didn’t struggle much, the violence and intensity of the situation paralyzing her with fear. For years, she had wondered what it would feel like to be in such a situation.

Today, she was. And it was mind-numbingly petrifying, as she tried to process the signals and emotions her body was going through. Blindly sensing her hands get ziptied and her body getting put into a vehicle.

- - - - - -

A gloom came over me as Sarah sympathetically explained that, even though it wouldn’t work out, she understood why I had approached her as I did. Even in her refusal, why did she have to be so perfect?

I didn’t expect it to hurt that much. Yea, maybe I’d had a bit more riding on my question than I had let on to myself. A gut punch wouldn’t pull out half the reaction. I staggered a bit. Did I cry? Did I feel a droplet cross my face? I didn’t know. Suddenly a storm had broken out in my psyche. And deep within, a lupine form shifted restlessly.

“Wolves don’t lose sleep over the opinions of sheep.” - A Wolf

- - - - - -

He pulled her body into the vehicle. It sounded as if she was mumbling “why,” as if the reality of her situation hadn’t fully struck her.

‘You know why,’ the wolf snarled inside it’s head. ‘You broke him, now I have to fix him.’

I attached her zip tied wrists to the jerry-rigged hook I had set up for the purpose. And as I held her trembling form in my arms, I had to wonder. How do I compare to the wolves in her fantasies?

“What do you want, then?”

“What I can’t have.” Wit turned to him, eyes solemn. “Same as everyone else, Kaladin Stormblessed.” - Hoid in Words of Radiance

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The following days were a dizzying blur of nausea and self-recriminations. Yet Sarah was there, trying to make things seem like normal.

‘Had I seen the latest picture of her cat?’

‘Had I seen the latest episode of our favorite TV show?’

Why did she say no? My mind replayed our conversations. The shy admittance to enjoyment of being dominated, commanded, and forced. The flirty touches and snuggling.

Why? WHY!?! Why did she seemingly broadcast so many signals to me? How do you kindly break someone's heart? I wanted to hate her so bad, but I couldn't. It was Sarah, kind and kinky Sarah.

My carefully constructed reality was crumbling as suddenly my foundations and principles seemed to lose all meaning. Until a cold voice broke through my nearly fugue state.

‘You know, she’s always fantasized about being forced. Maybe that was her catty method of pushing you to take such an incredibly dominating action. What if she wants it?’ The Wolf had awoken.

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Sarah’s choked “Stop. Please don’t!” rang in the enclosed space as she whispered it to her captor. His silence was telling. Would there be a stop? An end to this madness?

Sarah’s body was pressed against the floor of the van that sat in the Rent-A-Car parking lot. Nobody else would be here this evening. We were alone. I was confident I had a couple hours at least before anyone would come out looking for her.

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” - William Gable, Gone With The Wind



It was that imagining that she truly wanted to live out her fantasies that led to a non-de*********** van sitting outside a lonely Rent-A-Car agency at the witching hour. It led to remembering a half-forgotten conversation between Sarah and I.

“Are you a sociopath,” she asked.

I snickered and replied, “I probably exist on the spectrum.”

She laughed, “I was just wondering. Gotta know who to count on.”

And so… I set out to make her mine, consent be damned.

“The world you desired can be won, it exists, it is real, it is possible, it's yours.” - John Galt in Atlas Shrugged

- - - - - -

The Wolf took over as he shoved her hands over the hook. ‘His! Mine!’ An animal fury that left him white hot with a bubbling rage. How dare she! The clothes were torn away. The Wolf’s teeth and claws nipping away at her. Letting her know exactly who she had offended.

Sarah lay paralyzed by the terror she felt as a clearly larger male mauled at her body. Yet, the pain seemed to catalyze something deep within her that couldn’t be explained. She had read the stories. The stories rarely captured the mind-numbing terror of absolute loss of control... Someone who could casually move your body to their whim.

The Wolf didn’t care. He had made no long-term plans for what he was going to do tonight. Just a vague idea of a few abandoned quarries in the region or entertain the delusions of his opposite. ’Everything magically works out in the end. You just have to find the perfect writer to make it all better.’ The naive Sheepdog had great faith in the power of authors.

“Sorry, Stephen King is being resurrected by the desecration of Janette Oke's mummy. This night is not going to end well.” - The Dark Librarian when he undertook a mission to unite a bubbly grandma with Joe Abercrombie. Circa 2163.

No camera recorded what happened in the van as it sat in the Rent-A-Center parking lot. There’s only the word of one, Mr. Wolf, who states that he gently reminded a sheep of its place.

However, a camera would have told a different story. A story where the director grew ever more frenzied by his star. It was a rapidly spiralling nightmare for Sarah. She felt his teeth nip ever more boldly as the shaggy head explored. His claws raked along her body. Sheepdog and Wolf united in one accord to dominate their bitch. This was something both wanted, though likely for differing reasons.

The Wolf was still in an intense rage when a thought occurred. Sarah had been heavily marked tonight and he had no long term plans when he came here today. Perhaps those quarries might see some use after all.

After this thought happened, it was like a switch had been flipped. He got even more violent as the threat of consequences disappeared like a soft summer breeze. He was confident in his ability to erase the evidence and that confidence seemed to give him a desire to make it something worth erasing. It wasn’t twenty minutes until Sarah seemed to feel an arm break.

Sarah dared to say no? The fury drove him as he turned her body into a masterpiece of mottled shading and eye-catching welts. Sarah dared to say no? Then he’d make sure she remembered this as the defining experience of her ever-shortening life.

He might not have enjoyed causing pain before, but from a technical standpoint he was brutally efficient at it. He blended his anguish and years of cruelty into a confusing kaleidoscope of pain for Sarah. He was to painting what Dante was to writing and his descent into hell was artfully brushed across Sarah’s broken form.

Sarah still had no idea who this stranger was that was violating her. Between the hood’s sensory deprivation and her captor’s eerie silence, the only sound she heard was the vibration of her body slamming into the sides of the van and her own whimpering. She didn’t even know for sure if her arm broke because everything else just hurt so bad. She had thought she had an idea of what terror meant, but she didn’t have anything on the animal that had been trained in how to hurt others.

Thanks to a zipper on her hood, there was not a hole on Sarah’s body that was left unviolated that night. Sarah lay shaking as the Wolf stared down at her weakened form. He had cum in the first minute he was so excited, but seemed to get even harder as the desecration had continued. Twice more during the ensuing violence he erupted, both times inside her. The final time had been doggy style with his teeth sunk into the nape of her neck as he rutted her. Protection was the last thing on his mind.

Now, a cooler head prevailed and the decision was made to go to the third-farthest quarry, which was covered in danger warnings. He didn’t bother to drape Sarah back across the hook. She had been sapped by the night’s activities. Resistance was futile.

Near the quarry, nature had been allowed to overtake the roads. A tongue-bitingly deep pothole dragged him out of the silent movie he had been starring in tonight with a “Motherrrrfuckkkker!”

‘Oh well, it’s unlikely she’s conscious anyways.’ Her body had been ragdolled a few times. It was the light whimpers he had dragged out of her that gave proof of her vitality.

- - - - - -

Sarah strained within her hood. She had known for sure who held her the moment the van hit a particularly vicious pothole that all of the locals knew to be wary of. He had cursed, in the way she loved. A familiar voice swearing in such a familiar way. Such a terrifyingly familiar way. She knew who this was. The chill spread to her core in such a delicious way as she wondered. She didn’t recognize this vicious beast, except, deep within her soul she knew who it was. Why did he change?

When Sarah heard him curse, it was the same sound he made when they were hunting other players in their games. Other… prey in their games. She… she… was the prey? She’d loved these fantasies before, but reality was a harsh mistress.

Sarah had an indescribable feeling well up inside her as the idea rocked her to her core. She knew what predators did to prey. Whatever they wanted. What had awoken the Wolf?

The van came to a stop. It seemed as if a tire had sprung a leak or maybe they had simply arrived at their destination. It didn’t matter, there was nobody around to put a stop to the unfolding horror. Sarah flinched as the van door opened. She knew; she couldn’t beat this. She knew this monster was going to make her most closely held and violent fantasies come to life. She cried. Terror flooding her veins and making her shudder deeply.

Sarah had to convince him. Her friend, her shaggy friend. He was in there somewhere. He had to be. The hood was roughly ripped away from her head.

“Please don’t!,” Sarah cried. Her eyes grew wide. She truly didn’t recognize this monster before her. He wasn’t her friend! He wasn’t her friend!! He had no friends. He saw problems, he made problems go away. And she… she had become a problem that the logical side saw fit to eliminate.

He blinked, and time… well... time stayed the same. There was no escape from this moment. This was Cain and Abel, raw aggression splayed across the face of this monster as he stared down his terrified prey.

SHE CRIED! Did a liquid go down her leg? She didn’t know. It was odd that thought struck her as she stared at the last few seconds she had left. It was a crumbling construct of seconds.

“Please… don’t. She said the last part in a whimper. The fear had crowded everything else out.

A look of glee arose on the monster’s face. A logical exterminating force, powered by a cold hatred of anything that it perceived as a threat to itself.

And in that second, she knew. She knew she had to run. There was no saving her. Her mind flashed back to her religious upbringing. Would a miracle appear from the sky? No, he knew her. Whether in the arena of religion or combat mastery, she was convinced he probably had a plan for a deity showing up. That sounded like something her shaggy friend would say. ‘Join the boy scouts. Fight a god they said.Well, shucks. Do I have to?’

As her terror-cracked mind reminisced about some of the things he said to make her laugh, another part came to life. An animal part, something within her that was embedded within her soul. It was a part that wanted to live. It wanted to live more than anything else at that moment.

How could it live when time paradoxically sped up? The look of glee had barely crossed his face before it seemed like his arms were drawing close to grab her. She knew if those hands touched her she would join the living dead. Those who were dead regardless of what actions they took.

And thus she struggled, the only inalienable right she had left. Yet, it wasn’t enough. It never is. She threw herself hard to her left. Trying to draw away deeper into the van. That wasn’t going to happen, though she did draw an ugly snarl across his face. Suddenly, her face was back in the plastic covering the floor of the van. The hand on her ankle having inverted gravity in a dizzying double bounce of the head. A rib cracked This was it, it was over. This or the next second could be her last.

A tortured cry ripped from her throat, “Please, don’t J…”

And before the name could rip from her lips, like that, a K-Bar descended in a flash of steel. The blow of someone who had learned the best way to land a strike against the worst animals this world offered.

- - - - - -

AND TIME SNAPPED

The spray of blood hung in the air, a testament to the depths humans are capable of sinking to. Good men are a lie. Hope was found dead with a needle in it’s arm, ditched by her friend, Dante. There’s nothing man is incapable of if he gives into his dark desires.

- - - - - -

AND TIME SNAPPED

A bark drew Sarah back to reality, her captor frozen for one solitary moment. Her shaggy friend’s voice echoed in her head, Go for the groin. Not many can recover from that pain quickly. Her spirit animal lunged for the opening. A quick, light swing of her balled up fist hit his groin. Did she even hit hard? She didn’t know! She had to escape! She called upon powers she never knew she had to scramble as she never had before. A tail had to have counterbalanced the quick dodge, and her ears seemed to become triangular as she focused on her escape.

A furious cry tore through the air behind her.

“KIIIIITTTTTTTTEEEEEEEE…”

- - - - - -

AND TIME SNAPPED

Sighing, the author wearily tossed the wine glass, partially filled with a deep burgundy liquid, into the fireplace. The beautiful droplets of wine seeming to hang in the air as if in a vicious mockery of something, but his tired mind could not make the connection. A glint of reflection in the glass as it shattered against the stone seemed to show a cold logical face, laughing.

The author shook his head. The inspiration had hit suddenly and he knew he had to capture the story as best he could before it fled to the realm of unrealized realities. He hoped he had done the characters justice.

Should he tell the audience what happened after?

That Sarah had glanced back as her name was called. And for one moment, she felt such a delicious chill of horror as she realized her friend had become the embodiment of her most terrifying fantasies. She definitely felt a liquid go down her leg.

‘He did this for me?’ The thought bounced around in her mind as she disappeared into the night. She glanced back one last time only to see him just standing there, watching her bleeding and battered form disappear.

Or that the sheepdog had watched her go. He had waited for the wolf’s attention to be fully drawn toward Sarah. And in that moment, he had struck. It had been an everything or nothing blow. Somewhere a sheepdog ripped out the jugular of a wolf. As the wolf gasps it's last breath, it's eyes rest on the sheepdog. His cold eyes stared at the protector in front of him. ‘You think I can die?,’ was the message they seemed to convey. Then… nothing.

And as Sarah glanced back at him, he sensed a connection with her. ‘Was that a wolf he sensed?’

No. The author decided against it. After all, parts of that might have been his overworked imagination. He let his trademark look of contentment cross his face. This truly had been exhausting to write. Guess it was a plus that his passion was writing. It was a great way to put his heart into the world.

He had to get some sleep. A busy day at the library ahead for him. A ring interrupted his moment of relaxation. Sarah’s picture drifted across the screen. Probably a political meme. He would be going to hang out with her and some other friends in a few days. It should be fun.

He was the good guy. He missed her laugh. The total lack of remorse in his eyes gave way to a soft cheery smile. In people's gut, they could hear if people were smiling while speaking. He might have to wear his serious face one of the days.

“The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb.” Isaiah 11:6

Writer cleans his slate

He cuts off all the extra

Letter Demons ate

-a note ascribed to the Dark Librarian while touring 16th century demon sightings in Japan

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And with that, we close the first chronicle from The Dark Library. I am your, hopefully, engaging host.

And Sarah... I hope you’re fucking dripping.

J,

out.

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Author’s Note: I was beyond hyped to write this story. I was literally shaking as I wrote it, as it was so hard to sink into the characters. I finally feel able to show some work I feel fairly proud of. Feel free to critique.

Though, I will say that I hid a lot in this work and hope the ambience was properly set. I don’t want people to get too comfortable with the story. It’s meant to take a person to the edge. I hope I delivered. Were the characters as dark as you hoped? Did I take it to the right line of obsession and insanity? Did the quotes enhance or detract from the story?

And last but not least, did you like Sarah and J? Were they believable? Have you ever known a Sarah or J? I tried to write from Sarah and J’s perspectives as much as possible and that included the utter raw human experience, which was exhausting. How many times have you seen that hint of obsession or insanity in your life? Have you toed the line between the sweet siren’s call of obsession or stayed within the acceptable social structures approved by your community?

Thanks again. Hopefully this will be but the first of many salvos from The Dark Library.

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