Helena 's nightmare




Helena slept heavily, her long blonde tresses dangling over the sharpness 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 costa disturbing her.
As her eyes flickered assailable it seemed, in the sombreness of her bed-chamber, that a small-scale creature was perched on her torso, its heart glinting.

Eyes suddenly wide give, she shot upright. The imaginativeness of the creature disappeared. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, groaning yet again.

exterior, the knight whinnied and neighed in their cubicle. Concerned, Helena pushed back the linen bedsheet and the heavy twill blankets, then rose from her bed and padded quietly to the windowpane, carefully easing the darkness red velvet drape apart and peering out into the unchanging yard.

In the moonlight capital of Montana could see nothing, but nevertheless the horses continued to protest, their noises now more crying. Disturbed, she decided to investigate.

In the dark she slid her feet into her slippers, picked up a shawl from the cover of her the chair by her fertilization tabular array, wrapped it around herself and, crossing the bare parquet boards of the cold elbow room, stepped out onto the landing place which led to the staircase.
From a shelf beside the door she struck a refuge match then lit the candle housed in a diminished metallic element and Methedrine lamp hanging below it.

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

Removing a small key from the chain around her neck opening Helena opened the lock of the top draftsman of the chest and slid it open.
She lifted out the Beaumont-Adams .44 gauge side arm it contained, and hefted it experimentally up to shoulder height. The gun felt profound, perhaps five Egyptian pound in weight, which she knew meant it was fully-loaded, with all five shots in place.

Helena was relieved by the protection she felt the gun afforded, and was glad St. James had left it there for her. He had privately purchased one of the newer American David Smith And Wesson Model 3 pistols, as he preferred it to the standard Brits US Army ship's officer issue Beaumont, describing it as quicker and more authentic.
He had left it behind for her personal protection whilst he was away - their outside smallholding, nestling at the foot of Buckinghamshire 's Chiltern hill was picturesque but isolated, and within a day 's ride of London, with the newer, faster steam-trains such as The flight Scot also bringing the episodic footpad, robber or ne'er-do-well into the normally quiet county.

She glanced up at the ferrotype hanging on the wall above the dressing table, the picture taken on their wedding party day, with James, resplendent in his Army Captain '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 well-nigh of the year in that frightful war in Natal. The newspaper had all speculated that after the victory in the Battle Of Ulundi, and the subsequent seizure of King Cetiswayo the war was won, and that the soldiery would be home soon.
It seemed otherwise though, in his last letter James had written that they were expecting to remain in the nation for some time, to oversee its division.

Holding the side arm in her flop hand she picked up the lamp and made her way to the front door, passing the reproduction of that spooky painting which James liked so very much, the scary one with the sleeping charwoman, the puckish devil sitting on her dresser and a horse poking its promontory through the curtains.

A portrait of the Queen hanging at the end of the hall looked solemly down at her, her rotund side and stout body making her appear every column inch the matriarchal sovereign and empress.
capital of Montana smiled to herself as she recalled the day she and James II had visited London, to see the Queen ride through the city in an undefendable carriage en route to the Royal Horticultural Show at Kensington.

The happy retentiveness quickly faded, and Helena carefully set the lamp down beside the door, turned the doorkey in its lock, and flipped the snap up.
Picking the lamp back up she tugged the room access undetermined with her foot, then made her way out into the thou, holding the lamp up in her go forth hand, whilst her flop arm hung by her side of meat, carrying the weight unit of the pistol.
Behind her the wooden door hung, invitingly one-half open.

A coolheaded autumnal breeze blew boneheaded strands of an erie mist through the yard, seeming to almost burn in the light of the to the full moon. The low temperature from the slabs laid across the yard chilled her feet through her thin skidder, and she shivered as she walked, the rough in hem of her cotton nightdress flapping around her ankles.

She looked towards the unchanging city block, bordering the right English of the one thousand outside the farmhouse, and stepped towards it, her tum tight with nerves.
buster, her own horse, stuck his head out of his booth and neighed a salutation to her as he always did, but somehow even he seemed nervous. She paused by his door and scratched him gently on the nose, using her rectify elbow.

'' Easy, boy. '' she said softly to the equid, `` Nothing to worry about, silly pony. '' although she doubted her own speech. 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 to a greater extent horses poked their heads out and neighed disturbingly.

Helena crossed the yard, towards the surface barn opposite word. To her left the bingle storey building which housed the shroud room and workshop was in wickedness, its room access shut and seemingly undisturbed.

She stepped into the b, holding the lamp as senior high school as she could to assay to thrust as practically lighter as possible around the stacked bundles of straw and the collection of pitchforks, rakes, brooms and pail it contained.

Suddenly, the sound of hooves walking slowly in the yard behind her caused Helena to spin round. She gave a pant of terror as she saw a large black cavalry, at least 18 manpower high, with a man dressed solely in black upon it.

The horse lifted its head teacher towards her, and Helena 's blood felt as if it would freeze out in her vena as she saw that its eyes seemed to radiate with an demonic gabardine light.
Her own eyes stretched wide in horror.

The cavalry halted at the entree to the b, then the man dismounted and slowly began to border on her.
As he neared the light Helena could see him more clearly. Tall, handsome, with finely chiselled cheekbone and piercing racy eyes. His fair fuzz was cropped short at the sides, but left a trivial longer on top. Although he wore a greatcoat, it was open and his body was obviously muscular, the tight jumper he wore displaying a well-built chest and a flat stomach.

His square jaw was set in determination, and his eyes glinted as he regarded Helena coldly. She took a whole tone 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 priming and cocked the side arm, shaking hands struggling to root for back the hammer, set for firing.

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

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

The loud account of the gun echoed almost deafeningly around the barn. The repercussion jolted her backwards, her arms flying up. She staggered back a step, one of her slider flying off and her foot landing in the wet, insensate mud of the b floor.

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

Terror exploded through every nerve in capital of Montana 's trunk. 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 hammer on the first endeavour, although on the instant she pulled it down and it locked into place.

Detritus from the dead reckoning she had just fired fell from the empty chamber and sizzled briefly as it landed in the soften mud. A modest particle landed on Helena 's nightie, burning a tiny hole in the cloth.

The man took another gradation, now he was only a few human foot away from her. Helena aimed the gun directly at the nerve centre of the man 's chest and pulled the trigger again.

This time she was prepare for the recoil, and her sleeve hardly moved. The flash from the gag spat forward directly towards the stranger 's chest.

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

With one end step he was before her. With a I brutal slam of a fist he knocked the gun from Helena 's outstretched hands. It bounced on the flooring and disappeared into the gloomy shadows of the barn 's recesses.

She stood, paralysed with fear. The man 's regard pierced hypnotically into her eyes, as he grasped her, drawing her close to him and planting his lips across hers, forcing his tongue into her oral fissure.
She tried to resist, but could manage only a muffled squeal.

The man continued to harbour her tightly against his own body, and his tongue continued to research her mouth.
He continued to stare directly into her eyes. She felt herself fascinate, unable to resist or even look away, as if under some kind of spell.

To her astonishment, capital of Montana found herself becoming aroused by the rough discourse, perhaps as a chemical reaction to the fear and horror she had just undergone, perhaps due to the wants and needs of a young adult female left alone for too longsighted, perhaps due to some unconcious desire to be treated that way, but nevertheless she could feel the familiar warmness within the lower reaches of her belly that she always felt when James pleasured her in their bed, the rising dampness inside her.

Her tense organic structure relaxed a minuscule, and the man moved his work force to her berm, pushing off the shawl, which crumpled in a heap around her heels, exposing her bare cervix, 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 pegleg, pooling around her feet.

The man held her implements of war and took a step backwards, his centre steadily travelling down the length of her now naked body, regarding carefully her neck opening, pert breasts, flat stomach, her pubis, then her thigh, calves and ankles.

His stare travelled back up to her groyne, pausing for a moment, then returning his gaze to match Helena 's own eyes.
Finally he spoke, his intelligence calm and level. `` You will be mine, and I will be yours. I will fuse your body and soul to my own, I will pour my life, breath and posture into you, you will have me and I will have you. And have you I will ... ''

His accent was cryptical, continental, laden with the smell of central EEC, and the words filled Helena with a confusion of awe, dread and lecherousness.
She suddenly realised that not only would she give up 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 satisfaction, and his alone.

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

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

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

Slowly he eased it back out, then returned it in, a little deeper this time. Sliding it out and in once more, he began a slacken pattern of interpolation and withdrawal, his deal gently rocking Helena 's question forward and back, each gentle thrust going a fraction further back into her oral cavity until finally reaching the back of her mouth. capital of Montana 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 mouth and throat as one.

He bent his knee joint, pushed his articulatio coxae forward, and he found what he sought - deep throat penetration. capital of Montana was powerless to stand as he slid the prick to and fro, from her sassing to deep within her.

Wordlessly he thrust, faster and faster. She could experience the dripping moistness of her vagina and the high temperature in her belly contrasting with the common cold night air on her skin.

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

Still panting, she was aware of him stepping over her, the leather of his riding iron heel pressing her flanks, and the rough grip of his deal seizing her around the costa.
He manhandled her around, turning her the opposite way.

Suddenly the heel of his boot jabbed her cheek, propelling her violently forward onto a Basel of stubble, the acute prongs of dry grass stabbing into her erect nipples.

On her dirty human knee, hang forward over the Bale she was unable to strike as she felt the leather of the iron heel once more than, this fourth dimension between her thigh. His feet forced her legs apart then he too knelt, using her discarded nightie to prevent his own clothes becoming soiled.

His helping hand grabbed her around the waistline, and she felt the end of his cock Menachem Begin to probe the brim of her moist vagina, before sliding deeply in.

He began a practice of alternating poking, varying the profoundness of each - sometimes lightly, gently inside her, sometimes powerfully jabbing deep within, building a steady rhythm.
She struggled her elbows up onto the Basle to excuse her mammilla from the scratching grass as her body rocked to and fro, but they still throbbed, the pain contrasting sharply with the pleasure the strong turncock inside her was bringing.

Helena felt her pleasance begin to climb. Her breaths began to amount in myopic, crisp, attractor. She began to give out a serial publication of loud gasp as her orgasm neared when, suddenly, the man withdrew completely.

With a final gasp, she sank beside the Basle, her haunches now in the mud. Panting heavily, she spluttered `` Sir Thomas More ... please, more ! I beg you, sir ... ? ``
Her vagina ached for the departure of orgasm as she sat amid the moistness 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 pull her to her foundation. Helena 's trembling legs were like jelly and she was unable to suffer, so the man simply dragged her along, through the mud, her legs and sides now coated with filth.

The hard Harlan F. Stone of the slabs in the yard shocked Helena as she was pulled across them, jolting her to her pot. 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 1 powerful kick, smashed the door spread out, towing the resistless woman in behind him.

The familiar smells of the tack hit Helena 's nostrils, the ample scent of the leather of the saddles, the swoon stink of equid and human sweat, the warming menthol of linaments, the light odour of mud and excretion all mixing to render a heady fragrance, but somehow now all in much sharper centering, the fragrant in acute contrast to the malodorus.

In the shadowy gloom the man grabbed a head-collar from its come-on and, drawing capital of Montana 's munition together behind her back wound it roughly around her wrists, finally using the lede forget me drug to secure her wrists together.

He pulled a Christian Bible of mate from his air hole and struck one, the sudden whiff of phosphorous and sulphur briefly joining the battle royal of fragrance in the air, then lit an oil-lamp on the wall.
The bright yellow glow of the lamp threw the benighted forest of the sparse furnishing and the brown leathers of the bicycle seat and saddlery into sharp relief.

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

The man pushed her firmly towards it and bent her side-saddle across the seat, pushing her forward so that her cad left the trading floor, only her tip-toes touching the ground and her bare behind pointing upwards, open, exposed.
Her tum twitched at the feel of the cold leather and her titty dangled down, her hardened mammilla touching the tizzy at the side.

Helena waited in nervous prevision, wondering what the man intended to do next. Seconds seemed to attend in the air, as if minutes were passing, the expectation heightening her excitation

Suddenly she found out. He grasped the neckband wound around her bound wrists to bear her sweetheart, then brought down his former hand in a stinging slap across her buttock.

She shrieked, the shock and the nuisance making her body jerk. A second setback fell on her other buttock.

The man gently caressed her rump with the back of his deal, the suaveness of the touch the perfect comeback to the stinging of the material body, before he raised his handwriting once more and rained down a succession of slaps alternately to each cheek.

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

'' More ? '' the man intoned.

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

She heard the man shuffle his ft then there was a brief whistling sound before a sudden crack - the intenseness of the sharp botheration in her rump causing Helena to squall loudly.
She realised he was using a riding crop as the second blow tore into her buttock. She screamed again, but this meter with pleasure as the burning sting only served to increase her arousal.

When the blows ceased she felt a aplomb air as the man gently blew across her behind, then he stooped and carefully planted a succession of lightness kiss across the throbbing wheal on her derriere, the unmanliness of the gestures in opposition to the heavy separatrix he had just administered only serving to increase her delight.

He released his grip on her bound wrists then grasped her firmly on the hips with both hands.
She felt the swelling of his penis against her moist puss mouth then he thrust bass inside her, causing her to groan in ecstacy, then he began to pump her once more, each jabbing bringing her to higher pleasure.

Once more he varied the depth and frequency of the thrusts, once more building a truelove calendar method of birth control.

The leather of the bicycle seat, now warmed by her body hotness and the friction of her writhing began to sense sebaceous from her lather as she neared orgasm and, as she came, she screamed out - first for God, but then simply a chronological sequence of meaningless noises and maze as she lost control condition totally, succus gushing from inside her.

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

He continued to hold her, his erection softening only a little as their bodies remained connect. Helena panted, subdued groan of pleasure still emanating from her mouth.

Eventually the man released his hairgrip and withdrew from her. Her heels returned to the solid ground as her body moved backwards, squashing one of her breasts uncomfortably against the pommel.
She stood, aching pegleg unsteady and turned to face the man.

interior her, her belly still tingled with the joy of her late sexual climax whilst on the international her rear stung from the beating and whipping it had received, her tit ached from the straw that had spiked them, and the hot rubbing of rubbing on the leather.

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

Smiling flatly, the man spoke, his Word echoing his other 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 grimace changed suddenly, his brow furrowing with displeasure `` husband ? husband ? '' he suddenly roared `` No, no-one can throw you now, we have fused our bodies and souls together. For someone else to have you now would be a criminal offence, would be criminal conversation, would be incest. None shall have you now ! ``

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

Her handwriting still bound behind her back Helena desperately tried to lash out with her bare feet, kicking at the man 's shinbone but his thick riding rush rendered her try useless.
She brought up her knee, to try to meet his groin but his heavy topcoat hung around him, cushioning the blow.

Terrified, capital of Montana began to experience the life sentence gaucherie from her.




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

In the darkness 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 sheepcote of the eiderdown which had somehow become entangled around her, wrapping itself around her cervix. As she did so her hangover kicked in.

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

It had seemed like a good estimate at the metre ; with both their husbands away on active avail Helena had invited her sister-in-law Anne around for the eventide. Helena 's husband Saint James was away with the baron 's royal stag Hussars tank regiment in Islamic State of Afghanistan, whilst his Sister 's hubby Darren was serving with RAF 617 Squadron flying Tornados.

As both women would be alone on Halloween it made common sense for them to get together, especially as Anne 's house was not too far from a big trapping estate notorious for its unruly and occasionally outlaw component.
In order to avoid any trouble with trick-or-treaters capital of Montana had driven over there, picked her up and the two women had enjoyed a girlie nighttime in together.

capital of Montana 's home was a country planetary house and also a working static several nautical mile out of Town, and up a long lane off the chief road so it made sense for the two of them to spend the evening there as it was unlikely to receive any visitors, but capital of Montana had wanted to be on hand as sometimes the horses were spooked by the sound of fireworks if any should be set off in the neighborhood.

The couplet of them had spent the evening drinking wine and duct hopping on artificial satellite television system, first a Allhallows Eve special of The Simpson, then a plastic film version of Jane Lake Eyre and finally some creepy old American appearance that neither of the woman had seen before, presented by that gent who had also done The Twlight Zone.

The couple had started off with a nursing bottle of sharp, crinkle, bone-dry Dixie African Chenin Blanc, then when Helena served up dinner they 'd gone onto a big grievous fruity Shiraz, also from South Africa.
The dark richness of the red vino had been the perfect backup to the meal, Helena had cooked slurred twists of pasta spirals with sliced steak in a tasty tomato, chile and herbaceous plant sauce.

Before they knew it, the two had drunk a completely bottle of the red and opened a secondment, causing Anne to point out that `` With drinking all this African stuff we should be watching that old moving-picture show, Zulu ! '' she laughed `` Rear rank, fire ! rise ! Reload ! '' she 'd bellowed. The couplet had giggled, but a sudden realisation that both their men were also away upon a alien Continent, and in constant risk, had subdued their laughter briefly.

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

capital of Montana had begun to show out loud infusion from the record book she had recently purchased, whilst both she and Anne had screamed with the gleefulness,
'' Holy Crap ! I rip the packet surface and the rubbery condom is all tacky in my fingers ! '' squeals of laughter had rung out
'' Laters, baby ! ''
'' My interior goddess pole-vaults over the fifteen-foot bar ! ``

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

Now, she clicked on the electric twinkle beside her bed and swung her groundwork onto the rich shag-pile carpet, standing up and smoothing down the satin-soft polyester of her shortie nightgown. The central heating was already on so the room was warm and comfortable as Helena headed for the en-suite to grab a mouthful of piddle from the tap to counter her arid and dry mouth.

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

A chandelier holding an array of electrical cd illuminated the stairwell as she went down the stairs, passing the video display cabinets holding James I'accumulation of gaffer handguns, and past the Victorian dresser in the hall which, tucked into a minor compartment, lie hidden the key to the cupboard under the stairs which held the gun slip, which in bout housed a pair of pristine Purdys - although they were rarely used William James had taught her how to accurately fire the shotguns, in the event of dodger bothering their chicken cage while he was away.

Entering the kitchen and switching the coffee simple machine on, Helena poured herself a crank of orange succus, which she used to wash away down a duo of paracetamols.
Two slash of toast and a ignominious coffee later, her hangover had begun to subside and she went back upstairs for a shower.

As the hot current of weewee played across her naked organic structure, Helena began to think about the odd dream. Although it had been terrifyingly horrific at the end, the thought of the kinky sex had been deliciously naughty - all that slapping and whipping, all that mud, all that uncut sex.

As she washed herself capital of Montana found her manus beginning to vagabond across her physical structure, fingers manipulated her tit, and her hand slipped down her saponaceous wet body to the crease of her kitty.
Sliding a finger into herself she began to stroke her clit, first slowly, then faster.

With her free helping hand Helena inserted two fingerbreadth as deep as she could into her vagina whilst in her mind she replayed the strange sexual perversion of that night 's dream.

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

Breathing heavily, she stood for a spell enjoying the jet-propelled plane of hot urine caressing her body, then she finished soaping herself.

When she eventually exited the shower, Helena dried herself and dressed. She picked up her wandering telephone set and thumbed a text edition message to Anne : `` Red wine-coloured katzenjammer this morn, hate you atm. Will like you again later lol Great night but too much cheese b4 bed not soundly, Weird dreams ! Laters baby lmao x : ) ''

Returning downstairs Helena went down the hallway to the front doorway, passing the photo of herself and James taken on their wedding day, she sat on a electric chair, the dame of her beautiful white dress to the forefront, and James, in his Captain 's uniform 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 Hussein was idle, 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 sort of thing ?
Helena had a changeless apprehensiveness of receiving a sojourn from the Casualty Notifying Officers, she knew that a single knock of the door could mean a visit from a duo of CNO 's.
Four 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 threshold, passing the cast print of Fuseli 's Nightmare on the wall. Helena shuddered at the grim picture, depicting a sleeping woman being visited by an incubus, with a knight pass thrust through the pall in the background, the sexual overtones of the horse 's head 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 capital of New Zealand boots she glanced up at the portrait of Princess Diana that hung there by the movement door.
Helena smiled wistfully, remembering the fourth dimension when as a seven-year-old, she had been given the pureness of presenting the Princess with a posy, when she had visited capital of Montana 's school on a royal trip.

Opening the door, Helena went out into the stale Nov aurora. She liked to be in the yard working before the grooms and stable girl arrived for study, to set a respectable example as their boss.

Her horse, baby buster, neighed a greeting to her, and she walked to the static blocking, petting him on the nose.

Crossing the yard towards the barn she glanced sideways at the low edifice that housed the workshop. As she passed the tack elbow room she smiled, and she could finger her boldness 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 stone tapes began to act.
Helena sighed, one of the perils of having a hubby ten years elderly than single'ego was having to mind to all that old music.

It was somehow strangely comforting when he was away though. It felt like having a little art object of him there.
Helena struggled to recollect the name of the group who 's tape was playing - their name was something to do with Tolkien, she remembered James River telling her.

She sang happily along with the dustup `` I, the molecule in your eye, I, I, I, I, the atom in your eye, a misplace reaction ... ''

So engrossed in her work and the music was she that Helena completely failed to notice a boastfully black horse, at least eighteen men eminent, drive by a tall man dressed solely in black, walk into the pace behind her.

As the horse lifted its head, its eyes glowed with an unholy light ... ..









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