capital of Montana 's Nightmare




Helena slept heavily, her foresighted blond twist dangling over the edge of the bed as she sprawled across the double mattress.

A moan escaped from her lips as she woke uncomfortably, the feeling of a weight pressing down on her stomach and ribs disturbing her.
As her eyes flickered capable it seemed, in the gloom of her bed-chamber, that a small creature was perched on her trunk, its heart glinting.

Eyes suddenly wide open, she shot upright. The visual sense of the puppet disappeared. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, groaning yet again.

exterior, the gymnastic horse whinnied and neighed in their carrel. Concerned, Helena pushed back the linen bedsheet and the heavy twill blankets, then rose from her bed and padded quietly to the window, carefully easing the dark red velvet curtains apart and peering out into the stable yard.

In the moonlight Helena could see nothing, but nevertheless the knight continued to protest, their noises now more insistent. Disturbed, she decided to investigate.

In the darkness she slid her feet into her slider, picked up a shawl from the rear of her the chairwoman by her stuffing tabular array, wrapped it around herself and, crossing the bare parquet gameboard of the cold room, stepped out onto the landing which led to the staircase.
From a shelf beside the door she struck a safety match then lit the candela housed in a small metallic element and Methedrine lamp hanging below it.

Carefully removing the lamp from its hook she made her way downstairs, the darkness cast by the lamp swinging crazily around the wall of the staircase, and across the hallway to the dresser opposite.

Removing a pocket-size key from the chain around her neck Helena opened the lock chamber of the top draftsman of the dresser and slid it heart-to-heart.
She lifted out the Beaumont-Adams .44 bore pistol it contained, and hefted it experimentally up to shoulder height. The gun felt lumbering, perhaps five pounds in weight, which she knew meant it was fully-loaded, with all five injection in place.

Helena 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 newer American metalworker And Wesson manakin 3 handgun, as he preferred it to the standard Brits U. S. Army officer issue Francis Beaumont, describing it as quicker and more reliable.
He had left it behind for her personal aegis whilst he was away - their remote smallholding, nestling at the base of Buckinghamshire 's Chiltern J. J. Hill was picturesque but quarantined, and within a day 's ride of London, with the newer, truehearted steam-trains such as The flight Scot also bringing the occasional padder, robber or ne'er-do-well into the normally subdued county.

She glanced up at the ferrotype hanging on the paries above the chest of drawers, the flick taken on their wedding ceremony day, with Henry James, resplendent in his army Captain 's uniform seated, and Helena in her beautiful wearing apparel standing behind him, clutching his arm.

How she wished he was here now, he had been away for to the highest degree of the year in that frightful war in Natal. The newspapers had all speculated that after the victory in the battle Of Ulundi, and the subsequent gaining control of Billie Jean King Cetiswayo the war was won, and that the troop would be home soon.
It seemed otherwise though, in his last letter of the alphabet Henry James had written that they were expecting to remain in the commonwealth for some time, to oversee its partition.

Holding the pistol in her right hand she picked up the lamp and made her way to the breast door, passing the reproduction of that spooky painting which James liked so very much, the chilling one with the sleeping cleaning lady, the impish devil sitting on her chest and a horse poking its caput through the curtains.

A portrait of the Queen suspension at the end of the hall looked solemly down at her, her rotund nerve and stout body making her appear every inch the matriarchal sovereign and empress.
capital of Montana smiled to herself as she recalled the day she and James had visited London, to see the queen mole rat drive through the urban center in an open posture en itinerary to the Royal Horticultural show at Kensington.

The glad memory quickly faded, and Helena carefully set the lamp down beside the door, turned the doorkey in its lock, and flipped the catch up.
Picking the lamp back up she tugged the doorway outdoors with her human foot, then made her way out into the K, holding the lamp up in her depart hand, whilst her right wing arm hung by her side, carrying the weighting of the side arm.
Behind her the wooden threshold hung, invitingly half open.

A cool autumnal breeze blew thick strands of an Lake Erie mist through the railyard, seeming to almost glow in the light of the wide-cut moonlight. The frigidity from the slabs laid across the one thousand chilled her feet through her slenderize slippers, and she shivered as she walked, the fierce hem of her cotton nightdress flapping around her ankles.

She looked towards the unchanging cube, bordering the veracious side of the cubic yard outside the farmhouse, and stepped towards it, her stomach tight with nerve.
baby buster, her own horse, stuck his head out of his stand and neighed a greeting to her as he always did, but somehow even he seemed nervous. She paused by his room access and scratched him gently on the nozzle, using her correct elbow.

'' Easy, boy. '' she said softly to the equid, `` zero to vex about, silly trot. '' although she doubted her own words. Something had spooked them and no mistake, she could hear them stamping and shuffling in their individual stalls.
At the sound of her voice a couple more horses poked their heads out and neighed disturbingly.

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

She stepped into the barn, holding the lamp as high as she could to assay to discombobulate as much Christ Within as potential around the pile bundles of straw and the ingathering of pitchforks, profligate, Scots heather and bucket it contained.

Suddenly, the audio of hooves walking slowly in the yard behind her cause Helena to spin around round. She gave a gasp of terror as she saw a prominent black horse, at to the lowest degree eighteen deal high-pitched, with a man dressed solely in black upon it.

The sawhorse lifted its head word towards her, and Helena 's line of descent felt as if it would stop dead in her veins as she saw that its center seemed to glow with an infernal white light.
Her own eyes stretched wide of the mark in horror.

The sawbuck halted at the entrance to the barn, then the man dismounted and slowly began to approach her.
As he neared the light capital of Montana could see him more clearly. Tall, handsome, with finely chiselled cheekbones and piercing aristocratic eyes. His fairly hair was cropped short at the face, but left a niggling foresighted on top. Although he wore a overcoat, it was open and his body was obviously muscular, the closely sweater he wore displaying a well-built chest and a flat stomach.

His square jaw was set in decision, and his eyes glinted as he regarded capital of Montana coldly. She took a step 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 flat coat and cocked the handgun, shaking hands struggling to pull back the hammering, ready for firing.

Wordlessly he continued forward. Helena took another gradation back and screamed `` GET AWAY FROM ME OR I 'LL fool ! '' Her hands continued to shake as she grasped the backside of the side arm with both hands and aimed it towards the man 's torso.

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

The flashy story of the gun echoed almost deafeningly around the barn. The recoil jolted her backwards, her limb flying up. She staggered back a whole tone, one of her skidder flying off and her pes landing in the wet, frigidity mud of the barn floor.

The man halted, but his verbalism did not alter. He took another step forward.

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

debris from the guesswork she had just fired fell from the empty chamber and sizzled briefly as it landed in the damp mud. A diminished particle landed on Helena 's nightdress, burning a petite fix in the cloth.

The man took another step, now he was only a few metrical foot away from her. Helena aimed the gun directly at the centre of the man 's bureau and pulled the induction again.

This fourth dimension she was make for the recoil, and her arms hardly moved. The flash from the muzzle squabble forward directly towards the stranger 's chest.

The man took another step forward, as if the bullet had passed harmlessly through him. Helena was petrified, unable to move, her trembling arms still holding the shooting iron.

With one close stride he was before her. With a one brutal expanse of a fist he knocked the gun from Helena 's outstretched hired hand. It bounced on the trading floor and disappeared into the dark shadows of the barn 's recesses.

She stood, paralysed with veneration. The man 's gaze pierced hypnotically into her eyes, as he grasped her, drawing her close to him and planting his lips across hers, forcing his spit into her sass.
She tried to protest, but could oversee only a muffled squeal.

The man continued to hold her tightly against his own body, and his natural language continued to explore her mouth.
He continued to stare directly into her eyes. She felt herself mesmerized, unable to resist or even look away, as if under some kind of trance.

To her astonishment, Helena found herself becoming aroused by the unsmooth discussion, perhaps as a reaction to the awe and revulsion she had just undergone, perhaps due to the wants and motivation of a young woman left alone for too long, perhaps due to some unconcious desire to be treated that way, but nevertheless she could finger the familiar warmth within the lower compass of her belly that she always felt when James pleasured her in their bed, the rising moistness 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 deal around her cad, exposing her bare neck opening, which he kissed.
His hands then grasped the sleeves of her nightdress, pulling them downwards and forcefully dragging her clothing down. As it reached her hips he let go, and the textile slid down her legs, pooling around her feet.

The man held her arms and took a step backwards, his eyes steadily travelling down the length of her now defenseless body, regarding carefully her neck, pert breasts, vapid tum, her pubic bone, then her thighs, sura and ankles.

His stare travelled back up to her seawall, pausing for a here and now, then returning his gaze to meet capital of Montana 's own eyes.
Finally he spoke, his words calm and level. `` You will be mine, and I will be yours. I will fuse your soundbox and soulfulness to my own, I will pour my spirit, breathing place and strength into you, you will accept me and I will have you. And have you I will ... ''

His accent was mystifying, continental, laden with the tones of Central EC, and the lyric filled Helena with a confusion of fear, dread and lustfulness.
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 body was there for his gratification, and his alone.

The man placed his hands on her berm and pushed down. Hypnotically, she responded by slowly supplicating before him, the cold mud of the barn 's base dirtying her knees.

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

Instinctively, Helena opened her sass, and the man pushed the throbbing phallus towards it, the bulgy head word forcing her lips wider then pressing upwards to the roof of her mouth.

Slowly he eased it back out, then returned it in, a small deeper this clip. Sliding it out and in once Sir Thomas More, he began a obtuse pattern of insertion and withdrawal, his manpower gently rocking capital of Montana 's chief forward and back, each gentle thrust going a fraction further back into her backtalk until finally reaching the back of her back talk. Helena began to choke a little, but the man simply moved one hand to her articulatio humeri and pushed downwards, whilst the other hand tilted her head backwards, aligning her oral fissure and throat as one.

He bent his stifle, pushed his hips forward, and he found what he sought - trench throat insight. Helena was powerless to refuse as he slid the cock to and fro, from her mouth to deep within her.

Wordlessly he thrust, faster and faster. She could find the dripping damp of her vagina and the heat in her belly contrasting with the cold night air on her skin.

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

Still panting, she was aware of him stepping over her, the leather of his riding iron boot pressing her flanks, and the rough bag of his handwriting seizing her around the ribs.
He manhandled her around, turning her the opposite way.

Suddenly the heel of his boot jabbed her buttock, propelling her violently forward onto a Basle of husk, the sharp prongs of dry grass stabbing into her erect nipples.

On her dirty knee joint, bent forward over the Basel she was ineffectual to move as she felt the leather of the boots once to a greater extent, this meter between her thighs. His groundwork forced her legs apart then he too knelt, using her discarded nightgown to prevent his own clothes becoming soiled.

His hired hand grabbed her around the waist, and she felt the end of his cock begin to probe the sass of her moist vagina, before sliding deeply in.

He began a pattern of alternating thrust, varying the astuteness of each - sometimes lightly, gently inside her, sometimes powerfully jabbing deep within, building a steady rhythm.
She struggled her elbows up onto the bale to remedy her mamilla from the scratching sens as her body rocked to and fro, but they still throbbed, the pain contrasting sharply with the pleasure the concentrated cock inside her was bringing.

capital of Montana felt her pleasure Menachem Begin to come up. Her breathing place began to do in unretentive, sharp-worded, draws. She began to impart out a series of tawdry gasps as her climax neared when, suddenly, the man withdrew completely.

With a net gasp, she sank beside the bale, her haunches now in the mud. Panting heavily, she spluttered `` More ... please, more ! I beg you, sir ... ? ``
Her vagina ached for the waiver of orgasm as she sat amid the damp and the slime.

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

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

The hard pit of the slabs in the one thousand shocked Helena as she was pulled across them, jolting her to her senses. She scrambled to her feet but was powerless to resist as the man pulled her towards the tack room. He paused by the door, lifting one booted leg and, with a ace powerful squawk, smashed the door give, towing the unresisting fair sex in behind him.

The intimate smells of the weather sheet hit capital of Montana 's nostril, the rich scent of the leather of the saddles, the syncope malodor of equine and human sweat, the warming menthol of linaments, the light smell of mud and excrement all mixing to offer a rash bouquet, but somehow now all in a good deal card sharp centering, the fragrant in acute line to the malodorus.

In the shadowy gloominess the man grabbed a head-collar from its claw and, drawing Helena 's limb together behind her back wound it roughly around her carpus, finally using the lead rope to secure her wrists together.

He pulled a book of couple from his air hole and struck one, the sudden puff of air of phosphorous and S briefly joining the scrimmage of scents in the air, then lit an oil-lamp on the paries.
The bright yellow glow of the lamp threw the dark Ellen Price Wood of the thin furnishings and the brown leathers of the bicycle seat and tack into sharp relief.

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

The man pushed her firm towards it and deform her side-saddle across the can, pushing her forward so that her hound left the floor, only her tip-toes touching the priming coat and her bare rump pointing upwards, undetermined, exposed.
Her stomach twitched at the flavor of the cold leather and her bosom dangled down, her hardened pap touching the flaps at the side.

capital of Montana waited in uneasy anticipation, wondering what the man intended to do next. Seconds seemed to cling in the air, as if minutes were passing, the first moment heightening her excitation

Suddenly she found out. He grasped the apprehension wound around her bound wrists to restrain her steady, then brought down his other hired hand in a twinge slap across her buttock.

She shrieked, the cushion and the hurting making her body jerk. A 2d blow fell on her early buttock.

The man gently caressed her backside with the spinal column of his hand, the smoothness of the touch the perfect counter to the sting of the soma, before he raised his paw once more and rained down a taking over of smack alternately to each cheek.

To her own astonishment Helena began to enjoy each sally of the man 's hand on her hide, and when he stopped she let out a small groan of dislike. Her vagina ached inside, longing for fulfilment.

'' Sir Thomas More ? '' the man intoned.

'' YES ! '' she begged `` Yes, more, to a greater extent please sir, more, I implore you ! ``

She heard the man shuffle his feet then there was a abbreviated whistling sound before a sudden crack - the intenseness of the sharp botheration in her rear causing capital of Montana to cry loudly.
She realised he was using a riding crop as the second blow tore into her buttock. She screamed again, but this meter with delight as the combustion pangs only served to increase her arousal.

When the black eye ceased she felt a assuredness air as the man gently shove off across her fundament, then he stooped and carefully planted a succession of light kiss across the pounding wale on her rear, the unfitness of the motion in opposition to the heavy 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 pelvic arch with both hands.
She felt the bulge of his penis against her moist slit lips then he thrust late 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 oftenness of the thrusts, once more building a calm calendar method.

The leather of the bicycle seat, now warmed by her body heat and the clash of her writhing began to feel greasy from her sweat as she neared orgasm and, as she came, she screamed out - first for God, but then simply a succession of meaningless noises and snarls as she lost control totally, succus gushing from inside her.

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

He continued to defend her, his hard-on softening only a petty as their bodies remained joined. Helena panted, soft moans of pleasure still emanating from her mouth.

Eventually the man released his hold and withdrew from her. Her heel returned to the footing as her body moved backwards, squashing one of her breasts uncomfortably against the pommel.
She stood, aching legs unsteady and turned to present the man.

inside her, her belly still tingled with the joy of her late coming whilst on the outside her rear stung from the whipping and whipping it had received, her nipple ached from the straw that had spiked them, and the hot clash of rubbing on the leather.

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

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

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

The reflection on the man 's facial expression changed suddenly, his brow furrowing with displeasure `` Husband ? hubby ? '' he suddenly roared `` No, no-one can deliver you now, we have fused our bodies and souls together. For soul else to have you now would be a crime, would be adultery, would be incest. None shall have you now ! ``

With that he suddenly grabbed her forcefully around the pharynx, his hands tightening, restricting her external respiration, shaking, choking her.

Her hands still bound behind her backrest Helena desperately tried to lash out with her bare feet, kicking at the man 's shinbone but his thick riding the boot rendered her endeavor useless.
She brought up her knee, to try to get hold of his groin but his grueling topcoat hung around him, cushioning the blow.

Terrified, Helena began to feel the life shimmy from her.




Helena woke with a scratch, sweating and breathing heavily.

In the shadow of her chamber she glanced at the consternation clock on her bed-side table. The red LED numbers glowed softly. 5:46.

She struggled with the bend of the duvet which had somehow become entangled around her, wrapping itself around her neck. As she did so her holdover kicked in.

Her point fell back to the pillow and she groaned. Her brain began to piece the events of the previous night together for her.

It had seemed like a proficient idea at the clock time ; with both their husbands away on active religious service capital of Montana had invited her sister-in-law Anne around for the even. capital of Montana 's husband James II was away with the King 's royal stag Hussars tank regiment in Afghanistan, whilst his sister 's husband Darren was serving with RAF 617 Squadron flying Tornados.

As both womanhood would be alone on Halloween it made sense for them to get together, especially as Anne 's house was not too far from a large living accommodations estate ill-famed for its robustious and occasionally crook factor.
In order to nullify any problems with trick-or-treaters Helena had driven over there, picked her up and the two cleaning woman had enjoyed a girlie dark in together.

Helena 's domicile was a commonwealth house and also a working stable several international mile out of town, and up a long lane off the chief road so it made sense for the two of them to pass the eve there as it was unlikely to invite any visitor, but Helena had wanted to be on helping hand as sometimes the sawhorse were spooked by the sound of fireworks if any should be set off in the vicinity.

The duet of them had spent the evening drinking wine-coloured and channel hopping on planet telecasting, first a Halloween special of The Duchess of Windsor, then a film version of Jane Eyre and finally some creepy old American language show that neither of the women had seen before, presented by that fella who had also done The Twlight Zone.

The duad had started off with a bottle of penetrative, chip, bone dry South African Chenin Blanc, then when Helena served up dinner party they 'd gone onto a big arduous fruity Shiraz, also from S Africa.
The dark richness of the red wine had been the hone accompaniment to the meal, Helena had cooked fatheaded whirl of pasta spirals with chopped steak in a tasty tomato, chilly and herb sauce.

Before they knew it, the two had drunk a totally bottle of the red and opened a sec, causing Anne to remark that `` With drunkenness all this African stuff and nonsense we should be watching that old film, Zulu ! '' she laughed `` prat social rank, flaming ! betterment ! Reload ! '' she 'd bellowed. The brace had giggled, but a sudden realisation that both their men were also away upon a foreign Continent, and in constant hazard, had subdued their laughter briefly.

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

Helena had begun to show out loud extracts from the book she had recently purchased, whilst both she and Anne had screamed with the hilarity,
'' Holy shit ! I rip the packet open and the rubbery prophylactic is all tacky in my fingerbreadth ! '' squeals of laughter had rung out
'' Laters, baby ! ''
'' My inner goddess pole-vaults over the fifteen-foot bar ! ``

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

Now, she clicked on the electric light beside her bed and swung her pes onto the rich shag-pile rug, standing up and smoothing down the satin-soft polyester of her shortie nightie. The cardinal heating was already on so the room was lovesome and comfortable as Helena headed for the en-suite to snap up a mouthful of piddle from the tap to counter her desiccate and dry mouth.

She shook her head at the memory of the strange and disturbing dream she had just woken from, and went out to the landing, flicking the lightswitch.

A pendant holding an array of electric cd illuminated the stairwell as she went down the stairs, passing the showing cabinets holding James I'solicitation of antique pistol, and past the Victorian dresser in the hall which, tucked into a small compartment, lie hidden the key to the cupboard under the stairs which held the gun shell, which in turn housed a brace of pristine Purdys - although they were rarely used King James had taught her how to accurately elicit the shotguns, in the upshot of foxes bothering their chicken coops while he was away.

Entering the kitchen and switching the coffee motorcar on, Helena poured herself a crank of orange tree juice, which she used to wash out down a span of paracetamols.
Two slices of toast and a black umber later, her hangover had begun to sink and she went back upstairs for a shower.

As the hot streams of H2O played across her naked consistency, capital of Montana began to recollect about the odd dream. Although it had been terrifyingly horrific at the end, the mentation of the kinky sex had been deliciously juicy - all that slapping and whipping, all that mud, all that rough sex.

As she washed herself capital of Montana found her manus beginning to stray across her dead body, fingerbreadth manipulated her mamilla, and her hand slipped down her soapy wet body to the crease of her pussy.
Sliding a finger into herself she began to stroke her clitoris, first slowly, then faster.

With her devoid hand Helena inserted two fingers as deep as she could into her vagina whilst in her nous she replayed the strange sexual 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 while enjoying the fountain of hot piddle caressing her consistency, then she finished soaping herself.

When she eventually exited the exhibitor, Helena dried herself and dressed. She picked up her peregrine earpiece and thumbed a textbook message to Anne : `` Red vino hangover this morn, hate you atm. Will like you again later lol Great night but too a good deal cheese b4 bed not in force, Wyrd dream ! Laters baby lmao x : ) ''

Returning downstairs Helena went down the hallway to the front threshold, passing the exposure of herself and William James taken on their wedding day, she sat on a chair, the bird of her beautiful white dress to the forefront, and James, in his chieftain 's uniform behind her.

It pained her to think of all the male child who were out there in Islamic State of Afghanistan. Why were they still there, she pondered. Saddam was dead, Bin Laden was bushed, the Taliban had been overthrown - why could n't all of them come family now, a job well done and all that sort of thing ?
capital of Montana had a constant dread of receiving a visit from the casualty Notifying Officers, she knew that a single roast of the door could mean a visit from a pair of CNO 's.
quartet hundred and thirty such visits had already been made to the families of troops stationed in that faraway land.

She walked along the corridor towards the door, passing the frame mark of Fuseli 's Nightmare on the bulwark. Helena shuddered at the grim picture, depicting a sleeping fair sex being visited by an nightmare, with a horse cavalry head thrust through the drape in the background, the sexual overtones of the horse 's head penetrating the gap of the curtain seeming to act a penis entering a vagina. Strong stuff, for the Eighteenth 100 when it had been originally painted.

As she pulled on her wellington boots she glanced up at the portrait of Princess Diana that hung there by the straw man door.
Helena smiled wistfully, remembering the time when as a seven-year-old, she had been given the honour of presenting the Princess with a bouquet, when she had visited Helena 's shoal on a royal stag trip.

Opening the door, Helena went out into the cold November morning. She liked to be in the railway yard working before the grooms and horse barn girlfriend arrived for work, to set a skillful model as their boss.

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

Crossing the grand towards the barn she glanced sideways at the low building that housed the workshops. As she passed the tack elbow room she smiled, and she could palpate 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 tapes began to run.
Helena sighed, one of the perils of having a hubby ten years one-time than one'ego was having to listen to all that old music.

It was somehow strangely comforting when he was away though. It felt like having a short piece of him there.
Helena struggled to remember the epithet of the group who 's tape was playing - their gens was something to do with John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, she remembered James telling her.

She sang happily along with the Word `` I, the mote in your eye, I, I, I, I, the mote in your eye, a misplaced response ... ''

So engrossed in her oeuvre and the music was she that Helena completely failed to note a heavy blackness knight, at least XVIII mitt high-pitched, ridden by a tall man dressed solely in black, walk into the K behind her.

As the horse lifted its drumhead, its middle glowed with an infernal light ... ..









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