right of first publication 2019 by tcs1963

All right wing Reserved

'' inkiness Department of Energy N'T STAIN ''

by tcs1963

Her skin was pallid Patrick White, almost to the full point of radiance. She was hitchhiking, with her thumb stuck out like a well-lit signpost. Her left arm cradling a little pack very gently but protectively.

I noticed her because her pelt contrasted against the blue night sky. Almost as if luring me to pull over, like preteen minor trusting the molester in a dirty ovalbumin study van, holding a handful of candy.

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

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

Along with her alabaster peel, this young lady dressed very uniquely. Like she had stepped off the front of your favorite gothic or punk rocker rock and roll album natural covering.

The light cinch sweeping her hair across her brass. The flowing raven bleak locks curling willy-nilly around her side. Making her facial expression innocent but dangerous at the Lapp sentence.

Her tiny trunk was completely enveloped in a black leather duster eccentric cap, hanging down almost past her knees. Accenting the little nigrify wearing apparel underneath. It finished off her punk look like she could be in some kind of bike club.

The only part of her that was neither black nor white was her lip, which were a deep stemma red. Scary dark and wet like a wild animal that had just eaten a rare opus of meat.

This odd combination of dress, which would have looked unnatural on anyone else, had the inverse effect on her. So she was n't surprised that the first car that stopped held a man. An sr. Fannie Farmer vogue man to be exact.

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

'' Anywhere, '' she softly muttered. Pulling the sheaf in her blazon tighter to her chest. `` Anywhere but here. ``

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

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

She smiled gratefully, her pointed teeth accidentally poking out between her back talk. Then she slid into the wear down leather seat.

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

The woman just gestured with her question toward the forest and continued as if she were feeding the child in her arms. Suckling racket coming across the place, spurring the old Farmer 's imagination of Young succulent breast.

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

She just glared at the farmer, thirstiness and choler were getting the better of her. Her eye were pit of duskiness sparking with anger, as her instinct kicked into overdrive.

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

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

But before she could suffice his head, a piercing wail filled the air. It was coming from the big bucks of cloth, clasped against her pectus.

The inhuman scream continued as the woman began unraveling the cloth. One stratum off, then another, and another, until finally, the child was naked.

There, beneath all of those layers and blankets, lay a scrawny child boy, not a particularly beautiful infant, but a infant all the same.

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

She just sat there, her ghostly white breast resting on his lips. 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 tyke 's expression, trying to amuse and pacify the child.

For a few seconds, it seemed to be working ; the little boy 's sobs slowly quieted, and he began gazing hungrily at the old farmer 's dirty fingers.

The tiddler watched them go back and Forth River. Then slowly the baby opened his jaw across-the-board and slammed it shut on the largest of the man 's fingers. Severing his thumb.

The man screamed, slamming on the brakes. Cradling his paw 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's breadth he had been gnawing on.

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

She shoved the fingerbreadth back into the baby 's lip and began moving his jaw up and down, forcing him to manducate it, the whole time oblivious to the man 's sempiternal screaming.

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

Her words were returned by his silence and a face of fear and confusion. His screeching silenced and he fumbled with the lock on his door.

Scrambling, he had almost gotten the threshold open when the woman grabbed his arm. His stemma sheeting across the windshield.

The cleaning woman 's strength surprising him, her steel-like handle was near impossible to break. So his constant quantity struggling to get some distance, only made him weaker.

She nonchalantly brushed away the hair on his neck and dug her dogtooth into the legato fragile flesh of his throat.

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

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

She then pressed the minor 's back talk against one of the two punctures that were still oozing blood line droplets. The baby took two reluctant deglutition and stopped his suckling.

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

Reluctantly bundling up the sister, she turned to the room access preparing to channelise back into the woods.

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

'' You wanted to know why I wear melanise ? '' The man groaned. A moan that the charwoman took for agreement.

Moving towards the Mrs. Henry Wood she quipped, `` Because contraband does n't maculate. ``

The End ...