right of first publication 2019 by tcs1963

All Rights Reserved

'' pitch blackness DOES N'T STAIN ''

by tcs1963

Her skin was sick white, almost to the head of glowing. She was hitchhiking, with her thumb stuck out like a well-lit signpost. Her left-hand arm cradling a small bundle very gently but protectively.

I noticed her because her skin contrasted against the dark night sky. Almost as if luring me to overstretch over, like preadolescent children trusting the molester in a pestiferous Patrick Victor Martindale White employment van, holding a smattering of candy.

I had never stopped to peck up hitchhikers before and as a matter of fact, I was always warned against it. But I literally could n't put across this untested lady by. Helping her seemed utterly paramount.

Her beauty called out to me like some sort of Siren 's Sung. Making my unquiet feelings of fear push to the back of my brain, along with my logic.

Along with her onyx marble skin, this young lady dressed very uniquely. Like she had stepped off the presence of your favorite gothic or punk sway album cover.

The light breeze sweeping her hair across her face. The flowing devour Shirley Temple ignition lock curling willy-nilly around her face. Making her look free but dangerous at the same clip.

Her diminutive torso was completely enveloped in a pitch-black leather duster type cap, hanging down almost past her knees. Accenting the trivial nigrify clothes underneath. It finished off her tough look like she could be in some form of bike golf club.

The only part of her that was neither black nor whiten was her lips, which were a deep rake red. Scary dark and wet like a wild animal that had just eaten a rare piece of kernel.

This odd combining of dress, which would have looked unnatural on anyone else, had the opposite effect on her. So she was n't surprised that the first 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 package in her arms tighter to her bureau. `` Anywhere but here. ``

She walked up to the rusty park truck room access and paused, as though she was trying to decide whether to get in or not.

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

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

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

The woman just gestured with her head teacher toward the forest and continued as if she were feeding the child in her weapons system. Suckling noises coming across the tush, spurring the old James Leonard Farmer 's vision of Young succulent breast.

'' Not very blabbermouthed are you ? '' the unkempt old Fannie Merritt Farmer mumbled in a spirit that was almost inaudible to himself. But she caught every syllable.

She just glared at the husbandman, hunger and ire were getting the better of her. Her eyes were pits of darkness sparking with anger, as her inherent aptitude kicked into overdrive.

'' So how do you are wearing all black ? '' he asked. `` Did someone die or something ? ''

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

But before she could suffice his enquiry, a piercing wail filled the air. It was coming from the bundle of cloth, clasped against her thorax.

The inhuman scream continued as the char began unraveling the fabric. One bed off, then another, and another, until finally, the child was naked.

There, beneath all of those layers and blanket, lay a scrawny sister boy, not a particularly beautiful baby, but a baby all the same.

'' Ai n't ya going ta shut it up ? '' he yelled, just gimcrack 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 appease the screaming infant.

She just sat there, her ghostly white knocker resting on his rim. She was looking right back at him with that piercing gaze of hers.

With a sigh, the farmer leaned over and wiggled his pudgy fingers in front of the child 's grimace, trying to amuse and conciliate the tiddler.

For a few endorsement, it seemed to be working ; the piffling boy 's sobs slowly quieted, and he began gazing hungrily at the old granger 's dingy finger's breadth.

The child watched them go back and Forth River. Then slowly the baby opened his jaw wide and slammed it shut on the tumid of the man 's finger. Severing his thumb.

The man screamed, slamming on the brakes. Cradling his hand and staring at what remained of his thumb in shock.

Within seconds the infant boy began wailing again, spitting out the remnants of the finger he had been gnawing on.

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

She shoved the digit back into the sister 's mouth and began moving his jaw up and down, forcing him to chew it, the whole time forgetful to the man 's endless 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 mix-up. His scream silenced and he fumbled with the whorl on his door.

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

The cleaning lady 's strength surprising him, her steel-like grip was near impossible to demote. So his unremitting struggling to get some distance, only made him weaker.

She nonchalantly brushed away the pilus on his neck and dug her canines into the tranquil delicate frame of his throat.

In arcsecond he stopped struggling, semi-conscious. His eyes across-the-board as he realized his fate was sealed.

The fair sex drank ravenously, almost greedily, until she finally had her fill. Her unsatiable thirstiness sated for the metre being

She then pressed the fry 's sassing against one of the two punctures that were still oozing blood line droplets. The baby took two loath swallows and stopped his suckling.

She pressed the child against his bloody throat, but to her vexation, he would not suckle anymore.

Reluctantly bundling up the baby, she turned to the door preparing to manoeuvre back into the wood.

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

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

Moving towards the woods she quipped, `` Because dark does n't tarnish. ``

The End ...