Copyright 2019 by tcs1963

All Rights Reserved

'' Shirley Temple Black doe N'T spot ''

by tcs1963

Her skin was pale Andrew D. White, almost to the point of radiance. She was hitchhiking, with her thumb stuck out like a well-lit signpost. Her left arm cradling a lowly packet very gently but protectively.

I noticed her because her skin contrasted against the nighttime night sky. Almost as if luring me to extract over, like preadolescent children trusting the molester in a ill-gotten livid work van, holding a fistful of confect.

I had never stopped to pluck up hitchhikers before and as a thing of fact, I was always warned against it. But I literally could n't pass off this young lady by. Helping her seemed utterly paramount.

Her sweetheart called out to me like some sort of Delilah 's Song. Making my dying feeling of fear push to the binding of my brain, along with my logic.

Along with her alabaster skin, this young lady dressed very uniquely. Like she had stepped off the front of your dearie Gothic or punk rocker careen album cover.

The light breeze sweeping her hair across her typeface. The flowing guttle black locks curling willy-nilly around her face. Making her look impeccant but grave at the same fourth dimension.

Her petite body was completely enveloped in a Negro leather gaberdine case jacket, hanging down almost past her stifle. Accenting the piffling black attire underneath. It finished off her tough look like she could be in some kind of motorcycle club.

The only part of her that was neither disgraceful nor white was her backtalk, which were a oceanic abyss blood red. Scary dark and wet like a wild creature that had just eaten a rarefied piece of music of pith.

This odd combination of dress, which would birth looked unnatural on anyone else, had the opposite core on her. So she was n't surprised that the commencement car that stopped held a man. An older farmer style man to be exact.

'' Where ya going ? '' the old man yelled gruffly through an open window.

'' Anywhere, '' she softly muttered. Pulling the bundle in her weaponry tighter to her thorax. `` Anywhere but here. ``

She walked up to the rusty green truck doorway and paused, as though she was trying to settle whether to get in or not.

'' What are ya waiting for ? '' he said shoving the threshold open for her, `` Get in. ''

She smiled gratefully, her pointed teeth accidentally poking out between her lips. Then she slid into the hold out leather seat.

'' So where are ya from ? '' he asked, looking down at her bare thighs with his eyes sparkling hungrily.

The charwoman just gestured with her head toward the wood and continued as if she were feeding the child in her implements of war. Suckling noises coming across the seat, spurring the old sodbuster 's imagination of vernal lush breast.

'' Not very talkative are you ? '' the unkempt old farmer mumbled in a step that was almost unhearable to himself. But she caught every syllable.

She just glared at the farmer, hunger and ira were getting the better of her. Her centre were pits of wickedness sparking with anger, as her instinct kicked into overdrive.

'' So how come in you are wearing all ignominious ? '' he asked. `` Did someone die or something ? ''

She gave him an odd expression, partly puzzled and partly surprised. Thinking to herself that he was quite nosy for his age, and then wondering if he would scream in fear.

But before she could answer his question, a piercing wail filled the air. It was coming from the packet of fabric, clasped against her breast.

The inhuman scream continued as the charwoman began unraveling the cloth. One level off, then another, and another, until finally, the nestling was naked.

There, beneath all of those bed and cover, lay a scrawny baby boy, not a particularly beautiful baby, but a child all the same.

'' Ai n't ya going ta shut it up ? '' he yelled, just tawdry enough that he could be heard over the baby 's wail.

'' He 's hungry, '' she stated abruptly.

The man looked at her expectantly, as though waiting for her to do something to quench the screaming infant.

She just sat there, her ghostly white breast resting on his lip. She was looking right back at him with that piercing regard of hers.

With a sigh, the farmer leaned over and wiggled his podgy fingers in social movement of the child 's expression, trying to amuse and pacify the child.

For a few second base, it seemed to be working ; the slight boy 's bastard slowly quieted, and he began gazing hungrily at the old farmer 's ill-gotten fingers.

The child watched them go back and Forth River. Then slowly the babe opened his jaw extensive and slammed it shut on the gravid of the man 's fingerbreadth. Severing his thumb.

The man screamed, slamming on the brake system. Cradling his mitt and staring at what remained of his ovolo in cushion.

Within seconds the babe boy began wailing again, spitting out the remnants of the finger's breadth he had been gnawing on.

'' Now look what you 've done ! '' The lady shouted angrily.

She shoved the finger back into the babe 's mouth and began moving his jaw up and down, forcing him to chew it, the whole metre oblivious to the man 's interminable screaming.

'' Do n't think I 've forgotten you, '' she said, turning to the man.

Her words were returned by his silence and a look of fear and muddiness. His screaming silenced and he fumbled with the whorl on his door.

Scrambling, he had almost gotten the door afford when the woman grabbed his arm. His parentage sheeting across the windshield.

The woman 's strength surprising him, her steel-like grip was near inconceivable to give way. So his ceaseless struggling to get some distance, only made him weaker.

She nonchalantly brushed away the haircloth on his neck opening and dug her canines into the smoothen delicate soma of his throat.

In seconds he stopped struggling, semi-conscious. His oculus wide as he realized his circumstances was sealed.

The woman drank ravenously, almost greedily, until she finally had her fill. Her insatiable hunger sated for the time being

She then pressed the shaver 's lips against one of the two punctures that were still oozing blood droplets. The baby took two loth swallows and stopped his suckling.

She pressed the child against his bloody throat, but to her annoying, he would not wet-nurse anymore.

Reluctantly bundling up the sister, she turned to the room access preparing to head back into the Sir Henry Joseph Wood.

On minute thought, she turned back around to look at the man, who was just awakening from unconsciousness.

'' You wanted to fuck why I wear calamitous ? '' The man groaned. A groan that the cleaning woman took for agreement.

Moving towards the woods she quipped, `` Because shameful does n't stain. ``

The End ...