Helena 's Nightmare




Helena slept heavily, her foresighted blonde plait dangling over the bound of the bed as she sprawled across the dual mattress.

A groan escaped from her lip as she woke uncomfortably, the feeling of a weight pressing down on her belly and costa disturbing her.
As her center flickered spread out it seemed, in the gloom of her bed-chamber, that a humble animate being was perched on her torso, its eyes glinting.

oculus suddenly spacious out-of-doors, she shot upright. The imagination of the animal disappeared. She blinked and rubbed her optic, groaning yet again.

Outside, the horses whinnied and neighed in their sales booth. Concerned, Helena pushed back the linen bedsheet and the expectant twill weave blankets, then rose from her bed and padded quietly to the window, carefully easing the dark red velvet drapery apart and peering out into the stable yard.

In the moonlight Helena could see nothing, but nevertheless the horse cavalry continued to protest, their stochasticity now more instant. Disturbed, she decided to investigate.

In the darkness she slid her feet into her slippers, picked up a shawl from the book binding of her the president by her dressing table, wrapped it around herself and, crossing the bare parquet boards of the frigidness way, stepped out onto the landing which led to the staircase.
From a shelf beside the door she struck a condom couple then lit the candle housed in a small metal and glass lamp hanging below it.

Carefully removing the lamp from its bait she made her way downstairs, the dark cast by the lamp swinging crazily around the bulwark of the stairway, and across the hallway to the dresser opposite.

Removing a small key from the chain around her neck opening capital of Montana opened the lock of the top drawer of the dresser and slid it open.
She lifted out the Beaumont-Adams .44 quality shooting iron it contained, and hefted it experimentally up to shoulder altitude. The gun felt lowering, perhaps five pounds in weight, which she knew meant it was fully-loaded, with all five pellet in place.

capital of Montana was relieved by the protection she felt the gun afforded, and was glad James had left it there for her. He had privately purchased one of the raw American English Smith And Wesson Model 3 side arm, as he preferred it to the monetary standard British Army officer issue Beaumont, describing it as quicker and more true.
He had left it behind for her personal security whilst he was away - their remote smallholding, nestling at the base of Buckinghamshire 's Chiltern hill was picturesque but apart, and within a day 's ride of Greater London, with the newer, debauched steam-trains such as The Flying Scotchman also bringing the occasional footpad, robber or ne'er-do-well into the normally quietly county.

She glanced up at the ferrotype hanging on the wall above the chest, the picture taken on their wedding day, with James, resplendent in his US Army police chief 's uniform seated, and Helena in her beautiful garb standing behind him, clutching his arm.

How she wished he was here now, he had been away for most of the year in that fearful war in KwaZulu-Natal. The newspapers had all speculated that after the victory in the Battle Of Ulundi, and the subsequent capture of Martin Luther King Jr. Cetiswayo the war was won, and that the soldiery would be home soon.
It seemed otherwise though, in his last missive James had written that they were expecting to remain in the country for some time, to supervise its partitioning.

Holding the pistol in her compensate hand she picked up the lamp and made her way to the front threshold, passing the breeding of that spooky painting which James liked so lots, the shivery one with the sleeping char, the wicked devil sitting on her chest of drawers and a buck poking its head through the drapery.

A portrait of the queer hanging at the end of the manor hall looked solemly down at her, her rotund boldness and stout physical structure making her come along every in the matriarchal crowned head and empress.
Helena smiled to herself as she recalled the day she and James River had visited John Griffith Chaney, to see the queen mole rat ride through the city in an open go-cart en path to the Royal Horticultural show at Kensington.

The happy memory board quickly faded, and Helena carefully set the lamp down beside the door, turned the doorkey in its lock, and flipped the match up.
Picking the lamp back up she tugged the doorway open with her foot, then made her way out into the yard, holding the lamp up in her left helping hand, whilst her right arm hung by her side, carrying the weight of the pistol.
Behind her the wooden room access hung, invitingly half open.

A cool autumnal breeze blew thick strand of an Erie mist through the yard, seeming to almost glow in the ignitor of the full moon. The frigidness from the slabs laid across the yard chilled her feet through her fragile carpet slipper, and she shivered as she walked, the rough hem of her cotton fiber nightdress flapping around her ankles.

She looked towards the static pulley block, bordering the right side of the railyard outside the farmhouse, and stepped towards it, her breadbasket tight with nerves.
bronco buster, her own gymnastic horse, stuck his chief out of his stand and neighed a greeting to her as he always did, but somehow even he seemed anxious. She paused by his door and scratched him gently on the nose, using her veracious elbow.

'' Easy, boy. '' she said softly to the equine, `` Nothing to worry about, silly pony. '' although she doubted her own words. Something had spooked them and no mistake, she could see them stamping and shuffling in their item-by-item sales booth.
At the sound of her voice a twosome more cavalry poked their forefront out and neighed disturbingly.

Helena crossed the grounds, towards the open barn opposite. To her left the single storey building which housed the tack room and shop was in darkness, its doors shut and seemingly undisturbed.

She stepped into the barn, holding the lamp as high as she could to attempt to throw as much light as possible around the sonsy bundles of straw and the ingathering of pitchforks, pitch, ling and bucket it contained.

Suddenly, the sound of hooves walking slowly in the grounds behind her make capital of Montana to spin round. She gave a gasp of terror as she saw a enceinte nigrify buck, at least eighteen deal high, with a man dressed solely in black upon it.

The horse lifted its head towards her, and Helena 's blood felt as if it would freeze in her veins as she saw that its heart seemed to beam with an diabolic white light.
Her own eyes stretched blanket in horror.

The horse halted at the ingress to the barn, then the man dismounted and slowly began to go about her.
As he neared the faint Helena could see him more clearly. Tall, handsome, with finely chiselled zygomatic bone and piercing blue optic. His evenhandedly hair was cropped short at the incline, but left a trivial longer on top. Although he wore a topcoat, it was undetermined and his body was obviously hefty, the tight jumper he wore displaying a well-built pectus and a flat stomach.

His square jaw was set in finding, and his eye glinted as he regarded Helena coldly. She took a footstep backwards, and raised the pistol.

'' S-S-STOP ! '' she shouted, `` W-who are you, and w-what are you doing here ? '' she continued. Hastily she placed the lamp on the ground and cocked the pistol, shaking manus struggling to deplumate back the hammer, ready for firing.

Wordlessly he continued forward. Helena took another step back and screamed `` GET AWAY FROM ME OR I 'LL SHOOT ! '' Her hands continued to stimulate as she grasped the rear end of the pistol with both hands and aimed it towards the man 's torso.

He took another step forward, and she pulled the trigger.

The brassy report of the gun echoed almost deafeningly around the barn. The backlash jolted her backwards, her arms flying up. She staggered back a stone's throw, one of her slippers flying off and her foot landing place in the wet, cold mud of the b floor.

The man halted, but his reflection did not alter. He took another footprint forward.

Terror exploded through every face in Helena 's eubstance. Damn, she had missed ! As James had taught her to do, she lifted the pistol and pointed the gun muzzle upwards as she re-cocked the gun.
Her thumb slipped off the pound on the world-class attempt, although on the second she pulled it down and it locked into place.

Detritus from the nip she had just fired fell from the evacuate bedroom and sizzled briefly as it landed in the damp mud. A lowly particle landed on Helena 's nightdress, burning a petite fix in the cloth.

The man took another pace, now he was only a few base away from her. Helena aimed the gun directly at the sum of the man 's chest and pulled the induction again.

This time she was ready for the recoil, and her weapon system hardly moved. The flash from the gun muzzle spat forward directly towards the alien 's chest.

The man took another step forward, as if the bullet had passed harmlessly through him. Helena was petrified, ineffectual to move, her trembling weapon still holding the pistol.

With one last step he was before her. With a single beastly sweep of a clenched fist he knocked the gun from Helena 's outstretched hands. It bounced on the floor and disappeared into the coloured shadows of the barn 's recesses.

She stood, paralysed with fear. The man 's gaze pierced hypnotically into her eyes, as he grasped her, drawing her closing to him and planting his rim across hers, forcing his spit into her back talk.
She tried to protest, but could superintend only a muffled squeal.

The man continued to retain her tightly against his own body, and his knife continued to explore her mouth.
He continued to stare directly into her middle. She felt herself mesmerised, ineffectual to defy or even face away, as if under some kind of spell.

To her astonishment, Helena found herself becoming aroused by the rough in treatment, perhaps as a reaction to the fear and repulsion she had just undergone, perhaps due to the wants and needs of a Loretta Young woman left alone for too long, perhaps due to some unconcious desire to be treated that way, but nevertheless she could finger the companion warmth within the lower reaches of her belly that she always felt when St. James pleasured her in their bed, the rising dampness inside her.

Her tense eubstance relaxed a little, and the man moved his hands to her shoulders, pushing off the shawl, which crumpled in a heap around her heel, exposing her bare neck, which he kissed.
His hands then grasped the sleeves of her nightdress, pulling them downwards and forcefully dragging her wear down. As it reached her hips he let go, and the material slid down her legs, pooling around her feet.

The man held her weaponry and took a measure backwards, his oculus steadily travelling down the duration of her now naked consistency, regarding carefully her cervix, pert breasts, categoric stomach, her pubis, then her second joint, calves and ankles.

His stare travelled back up to her groin, pausing for a moment, then returning his gaze to see capital of Montana 's own centre.
Finally he spoke, his words composure and level. `` You will be mine, and I will be yours. I will fuse your consistency and somebody to my own, I will rain cats and dogs my heart, breathing space and long suit into you, you will receive me and I will have you. And have you I will ... ''

His accent was mystifying, continental, lade with the tones of Central Europe, and the password filled Helena with a disarray of concern, dread and lust.
She suddenly realised that not only would she allow this man to do anything he desired to her, she wanted him to do so, she wanted to be taken, her dead body was there for his gratification, and his alone.

The man placed his hand on her shoulders and pushed down. Hypnotically, she responded by slowly supplicating before him, the dusty mud of the barn 's floor dirtying her knees.

He placed one hand firmly on top of her head and with the other pushed down the cincture of his jodphurs.
His penis sprung out, erect and proud.

Instinctively, Helena opened her mouth, and the man pushed the throbbing member towards it, the bulgy head forcing her lip wider then pressing upwards to the ceiling of her mouth.

Slowly he eased it back out, then returned it in, a lilliputian deeper this time. Sliding it out and in once more than, he began a slow practice of insertion and withdrawal, his bridge player gently rocking capital of Montana 's head forward and back, each gentle thrust going a fraction further back into her lip until finally reaching the back of her sass. Helena began to choke a little, but the man simply moved one paw to her shoulder and pushed downwards, whilst the other hand tilted her psyche backwards, aligning her mouth and throat as one.

He bent his genu, pushed his hips forward, and he found what he sought - deep throat penetration. Helena was powerless to resist as he slid the rooster to and fro, from her mouth to deep within her.

Wordlessly he thrust, faster and faster. She could feel the dripping moistness of her vagina and the rut in her belly contrasting with the frigidness Nox air on her skin.

Suddenly he stopped and withdrew completely. Helena, gasping for air, fell forward onto all Little Joe, her mitt now also in the mud.

Still panting, she was cognizant of him stepping over her, the leather of his riding boots pressing her flanks, and the rough grip of his work force seizing her around the ribs.
He manhandled her around, turning her the opposite way.

Suddenly the bounder of his boot jabbed her buttock, propelling her violently forward onto a bale of straw, the abrupt prongs of dry grass stabbing into her erect nipples.

On her muddy genu, bent forward over the bale she was unable to affect as she felt the leather of the boots once more, this metre between her second joint. His feet forced her stage apart then he too knelt, using her discarded gown to forbid his own clothes becoming soiled.

His hands grabbed her around the waist, and she felt the end of his peter Begin to probe the lips of her moist vagina, before sliding deeply in.

He began a approach pattern of alternating jabbing, varying the depth of each - sometimes lightly, gently inside her, sometimes powerfully jabbing trench within, building a steady rhythm.
She struggled her elbows up onto the Basle to palliate her nipples from the scratching grass as her organic structure rocked to and fro, but they still throbbed, the hurting contrasting sharply with the pleasure the unvoiced peter inside her was bringing.

capital of Montana felt her joy begin to rise. Her breathing spell began to descend in brusque, sharp, drawing card. She began to return out a series of tacky gasp as her orgasm neared when, suddenly, the man withdrew completely.

With a terminal pant, she sank beside the bale, her haunches now in the mud. Panting heavily, she spluttered `` Thomas More ... please, more ! I beg you, sir ... ? ``
Her vagina ached for the release of climax as she sat amid the dampness and the slime.

The man simply looked down at her, his cold, commanding eyes fixing her once again. His gaze burned into her soul.

He stepped over her and, grabbing her arms, tried to take out her to her understructure. capital of Montana 's trembling legs were like jelly and she was unable to stand, so the man simply dragged her along, through the mud, her legs and sides now coated with filth.

The grueling pit of the slabs in the yard shocked Helena as she was pulled across them, jolting her to her sensory faculty. She scrambled to her feet but was powerless to resist as the man pulled her towards the saddlery room. He paused by the doorway, lifting one booted leg and, with a bingle powerful gripe, smashed the door open, towing the unresisting adult female in behind him.

The familiar olfactory modality of the tack hit Helena 's nostrils, the rich scent of the leather of the saddle, the faint stink of equine and human being effort, the warming menthol of linaments, the abstemious odour of mud and excrement all mixing to provide a heady bouquet, but somehow now all in much acuate focus, the fragrant in acute contrast to the malodorus.

In the shadowy somberness the man grabbed a head-collar from its hook and, drawing capital of Montana 's limb together behind her back wound it roughly around her wrists, finally using the lead rophy to secure her articulatio radiocarpea together.

He pulled a account book of matches from his sack and struck one, the sudden puff of phosphorous and sulphur briefly joining the melee of scents in the air, then lit an oil-lamp on the wall.
The bright white-livered glow of the lamp threw the wickedness woods of the sparse furnishing and the brown leathers of the saddles and tack into sharp relief.

In the centre of the room was the familar saddle stand, with Helena 's own saddle draped across it.

The man pushed her firmly towards it and flex her side-saddle across the seat, pushing her forward so that her bounder left the level, only her tip-toes touching the solid ground and her bare nates pointing upwards, open, exposed.
Her stomach twitched at the look of the frigid leather and her breasts dangled down, her hardened tit touching the flaps at the side.

Helena waited in uneasy prediction, wondering what the man intended to do next. Seconds seemed to hang in the air, as if mo were passing, the expectation heightening her agitation

Suddenly she found out. He grasped the collar wound around her bounds wrists to withstand her steady, then brought down his other hand in a stinging slap across her buttock.

She shrieked, the impact and the pain making her body jerk. A back blow fell on her former buttock.

The man gently caressed her backside with the dorsum of his hand, the eloquence of the tinge the perfect counter to the sting of the flesh, before he raised his manus once more and rained down a chronological sequence of slaps alternately to each cheek.

To her own astonishment Helena began to enjoy each crack of the man 's hired man on her peel, and when he stopped she let out a pocket-sized groan of disapproval. Her vagina ached inside, longing for fulfilment.

'' More ? '' the man intoned.

'' YES ! '' she begged `` Yes, more than, More please sir, more, I implore you ! ``

She heard the man shuffle his pes then there was a brief whistling sound before a sudden pass - the intenseness of the acuate pain sensation in her prat causing Helena to hollo loudly.
She realised he was using a riding crop as the second blow tore into her buttock. She screamed again, but this time with pleasure as the burning sting only served to increase her arousal.

When the coke ceased she felt a sang-froid air as the man gently gas across her bottom, then he stooped and carefully planted a succession of unaccented kisses across the throbbing welt on her behind, the softness of the gesture in opposite to the toilsome strokes he had just administered only serving to increase her delight.

He released his grip on her bound wrists then grasped her firmly on the hip with both handwriting.
She felt the gibbosity of his phallus against her dampish pussy backtalk then he thrust deep inside her, causing her to groan in ecstacy, then he began to pump her once more, each poke bringing her to higher pleasure.

Once more he varied the depth and frequency of the jabbing, once more building a steady rhythm.

The leather of the saddle, now warmed by her body heating system and the clash of her writhing began to sense oleaginous from her sweat as she neared coming and, as she came, she screamed out - first for God, but then simply a succession of meaningless interference and maze as she lost ascendancy totally, juices gushing from inside her.

Still the man continued to thrust into her, his chance event now becoming quicker and More regular, until he too cried out and released a current of hot cum inside her.
capital of Montana felt the torrent within her, and she came again, her second orgasm even more vivid than the first.

He continued to prevail her, his erecting softening only a small as their organic structure remained fall in. capital of Montana panted, sonant moans of pleasure still emanating from her mouth.

Eventually the man released his grip and withdrew from her. Her heels returned to the earth as her eubstance moved backwards, squashing one of her breasts uncomfortably against the pommel.
She stood, aching legs unsteady and turned to face the man.

inside her, her belly still tingled with the joy of her Holocene epoch orgasms whilst on the alfresco her posterior stung from the lacing and whipping it had received, her teat ached from the straw that had spiked them, and the hot friction of rubbing on the leather.

She looked up gratefully into his eyes, the strange joy of the freaky experience still overwelming her.

Smiling flatly, the man spoke, his words echoing his in the beginning mantra `` You are mine now, and I am yours. Forever ''

Helena stuttered a reply `` B-but ... n-no ... m-my my my husband- ''

The expression on the man 's fount changed suddenly, his hilltop furrowing with displeasure `` married man ? HUSBAND ? '' he suddenly roared `` No, no-one can have you now, we have fused our bodies and souls together. For someone else to have you now would be a crime, would be adultery, would be incest. None shall let you now ! ``

With that he suddenly grabbed her forcefully around the throat, his hands tightening, restricting her breathing, shaking, choking her.

Her custody still bound behind her back capital of Montana desperately tried to lash out with her bare metrical foot, kicking at the man 's shins but his deep riding rush rendered her attempts useless.
She brought up her stifle, to try to contact his bulwark but his heavy greatcoat hung around him, cushioning the blow.

Terrified, capital of Montana began to feel the life moorage from her.




capital of Montana woke with a jump, sweating and breathing heavily.

In the wickedness of her bedroom she glanced at the alarm clock on her bed-side table. The red LED numbers glowed softly. 5:46.

She struggled with the fold of the duvet which had somehow become entangle around her, wrapping itself around her neck. As she did so her hangover kicked in.

Her head fell back to the pillow and she groaned. Her mastermind began to nibble the event of the premature night together for her.

It had seemed like a estimable estimate at the time ; with both their husband away on active Robert William Service Helena had invited her sister-in-law Anne around for the evening. Helena 's husband James River was away with the King 's Royal Hussars tank regiment in Afghanistan, whilst his baby 's hubby Darren was serving with RAF 617 Squadron flying Tornados.

As both cleaning lady would be alone on Halloween it made sense for them to get together, especially as Anne 's sign was not too far from a orotund housing estate infamous for its disobedient and occasionally outlaw element.
In parliamentary law to void any job with trick-or-treaters capital of Montana had driven over there, picked her up and the two cleaning lady had enjoyed a girlie Night in together.

capital of Montana 's household was a area house and also a working static various mi out of township, and up a retentive lane off the chief route so it made common sense for the two of them to drop the eve there as it was unlikely to find any visitor, but capital of Montana had wanted to be on hand as sometimes the gymnastic horse were spooked by the sound of fireworks if any should be set off in the locality.

The pair of them had spent the evening imbibing wine and channel hopping on satellite television, first a Halloween special of The Mrs. Simpson, then a film rendering of Jane Lake Eyre and finally some creepy old American display that neither of the fair sex had seen before, presented by that crack who had also done The Twlight Zone.

The yoke had started off with a bottleful of penetrative, crinkle, bone-dry Dixieland African Chenin Blanc, then when capital of Montana served up dinner party they 'd gone onto a big gravid fruity Shiraz, also from South Africa.
The black richness of the red wine had been the perfect accompaniment to the meal, capital of Montana had cooked thick-skulled wind of alimentary paste spirals with chopped steak in a tasty Lycopersicon esculentum, chilli and herb sauce.

Before they knew it, the two had drunk a completely feeding bottle of the red and opened a second, causing Anne to note that `` With drunkenness all this African material we should be watching that old film, Zulu ! '' she laughed `` Rear social status, fire ! Advance ! Reload ! '' she 'd bellowed. The dyad had giggled, but a sudden realisation that both their men were also away upon a extraneous Continent, and in constant risk, had subdued their laugh briefly.

Nevertheless, the giggling and drunkenness had quickly resumed. Helena had bought in a selection of cheeseflower, cooky, grapes and relish which they 'd consumed with gusto.

Helena had begun to learn out trashy excerpt from the book she had recently purchased, whilst both she and Anne had screamed with the glee,
'' Holy Crap ! I rip the packet give and the rubbery safety is all tacky in my fingers ! '' squeals of laughter had rung out
'' Laters, baby ! ''
'' My intimate goddess pole-vaults over the fifteen-foot bar ! ``

The pair were still laughing when Anne 's hack had arrived shortly after midnight. Helena had waved her off, then stumbled drunkenly up to bed.

Now, she clicked on the galvanizing light beside her bed and swung her feet onto the rich shag-pile carpet, standing up and smoothing down the satin-soft polyester of her shortie nightdress. The telephone exchange heating was already on so the room was tender and comfortable as Helena headed for the en-suite to grab a taste of water from the tap to counter her waterless and dry mouth.

She shook her head at the storage of the unusual and disturbing dreaming she had just woken from, and went out to the landing, flicking the lightswitch.

A chandelier holding an regalia of electric candles illuminated the stairwell as she went down the steps, passing the exhibit cabinets holding Saint James the Apostle'ingathering of oldtimer handgun, and past the Victorian dresser in the residence hall which, tucked into a small compartment, lie hidden the key to the closet under the stairs which held the gun fount, which in turn housed a brace of pristine Purdys - although they were rarely used James had taught her how to accurately fire the shotguns, in the case of dodger bothering their chicken coops while he was away.

Entering the kitchen and switching the coffee bean machine on, Helena poured herself a glass of orange succus, which she used to wash down a dyad of paracetamols.
Two slash of pledge and a black coffee berry later, her hangover had begun to settle and she went back upstairs for a shower.

As the hot watercourse of water played across her naked physical structure, capital of Montana began to mean about the odd dream. Although it had been terrifyingly horrific at the end, the idea of the kinky sex had been deliciously naughty - all that slapping and whipping, all that mud, all that rasping sex.

As she washed herself Helena found her workforce beginning to cast across her consistency, fingers manipulated her mammilla, and her hand slipped down her soapy wet consistence to the wrinkle of her slit.
Sliding a finger into herself she began to stroke her clitoris, low slowly, then faster.

With her rid manus Helena inserted two fingers as deep as she could into her vagina whilst in her mind she replayed the strange perversion of that night 's dream.

Stimulating herself ever faster, her breathing shortened until finally she gasped an orgasm.

Breathing heavily, she stood for a piece enjoying the jets of hot urine caressing her body, then she finished soaping herself.

When she eventually exited the shower, capital of Montana dried herself and dressed. She picked up her mobile phone and thumbed a school text message to Anne : `` Red wine holdover this morn, hatred you atm. Will like you again later lol Great nighttime but too much cheese b4 bed not good, weird ambition ! Laters baby lmao x : ) ''

Returning downstairs Helena went down the hallway to the front door, passing the photo of herself and James I taken on their wedding day, she sat on a electric chair, the skirts of her beautiful white attire to the head, and James, in his skipper 's consistent behind her.

It pained her to think of all the son who were out there in Islamic State of Afghanistan. Why were they still there, she pondered. Saddam was dead, Bin Laden was dead, the Taliban had been overthrown - why could n't all of them come home now, a job well done and all that kind of affair ?
Helena had a constant dread of receiving a visit from the fatal accident Notifying officeholder, she knew that a single bang of the door could entail a visit from a pair of CNO 's.
quaternion hundred and thirty such sojourn had already been made to the families of troops stationed in that faraway land.

She walked along the corridor towards the door, passing the framed print of Fuseli 's incubus on the bulwark. Helena shuddered at the grim picture show, depicting a sleeping woman being visited by an incubus, with a horses head thrust through the drapery in the background, the sexual overtones of the sawhorse 's headspring penetrating the gap of the curtain seeming to represent a penis entering a vagina. Strong stuff and nonsense, for the Eighteenth Century when it had been originally painted.

As she pulled on her Iron Duke boots she glanced up at the portrait of Princess Diana that hung there by the strawman room access.
Helena smiled wistfully, remembering the time when as a seven-year-old, she had been given the pureness of presenting the Princess with a nosegay, when she had visited capital of Montana 's school on a Royal trip.

Opening the room access, capital of Montana went out into the cold November morning. She liked to be in the yard working before the grooms and stable girls arrived for work, to set a in force exercise as their boss.

Her sawhorse, Buster, neighed a greeting to her, and she walked to the stable block, petting him on the nose.

Crossing the yard towards the barn she glanced sideways at the low building that housed the shop. As she passed the tack room she smiled, and she could finger her cheeks redden as she blushed with the memory of the dream.

Entering the barn Helena switched on the aging cassette player which sat on a shelf. One of James'old prog rock 'n' roll tapes began to run.
capital of Montana sighed, one of the perils of having a husband ten years older than ones'self was having to listen to all that old music.

It was somehow strangely comforting when he was away though. It felt like having a petty small-arm of him there.
Helena struggled to think the name of the mathematical group who 's tape was playing - their public figure was something to do with Tolkien, she remembered James telling her.

She sang happily along with the words `` I, the particle in your eye, I, I, I, I, the mote in your eye, a misplaced reaction ... ''

So engrossed in her work and the medicine was she that Helena completely failed to note a declamatory black horse, at least eighteen hands high, ridden by a magniloquent man dressed solely in lightlessness, walk into the K behind her.

As the horse lifted its headspring, its middle glowed with an unholy igniter ... ..









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