copyright 2019 by tcs1963

All rightfield Reserved

'' BLACK DOES N'T smear ''

by tcs1963

Her skin was pale Patrick Victor Martindale White, almost to the point of glowing. She was hitchhiking, with her thumb stuck out like a well-lit guidepost. Her unexpended arm cradling a small bundle very gently but protectively.

I noticed her because her hide contrasted against the grim nighttime sky. Almost as if luring me to pull over, like preteen nipper trusting the molester in a dirty white work van, holding a handful of candy.

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

Her beauty called out to me like some sort of Siren 's Song. Making my dying feelings of fear push to the book binding of my brain, along with my logic.

Along with her alabaster skin, this young lady dressed very uniquely. Like she had stepped off the battlefront of your preferent gothic or tough rock'n'roll album screening.

The light cinch sweeping her haircloth across her face. The flowing predate black lock curling willy-nilly around her font. Making her spirit inexperienced person but dangerous at the Sami time.

Her tiny body was completely enveloped in a black leather duster case jacket, hanging down almost past her genu. Accenting the little black clothes underneath. It finished off her tough smell like she could be in some kind of motorcycle club.

The only component part of her that was neither black nor white was her back talk, which were a bass blood red. Scary dark and wet like a wild animal that had just eaten a rare piece of meat.

This odd compounding of dress, which would have looked unnatural on anyone else, had the face-to-face effect on her. So she was n't surprised that the first car that stopped held a man. An aged farmer dash man to be exact.

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

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

She walked up to the rusty commons truck threshold and paused, as though she was trying to settle whether to get in or not.

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

She smiled gratefully, her pointed teeth accidentally poking out between her rim. Then she slid into the fall apart leather seat.

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

The woman just gestured with her forefront toward the timber and continued as if she were feeding the child in her arms. Suckling racket coming across the seat, spurring the old farmer 's imagination of young lush breast.

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

She just glared at the farmer, hunger and wrath were getting the better of her. Her eyes were fossa of darkness sparking with anger, as her instinct kicked into overdrive.

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

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

But before she could answer his enquiry, a piercing lament filled the air. It was coming from the bundle of fabric, clasped against her chest.

The inhuman riot continued as the woman began unraveling the cloth. One bed off, then another, and another, until finally, the fry was naked.

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

'' Ai n't ya going ta shut it up ? '' he yelled, just trashy enough that he could be heard over the baby 's wail.

'' He 's thirsty, '' she stated abruptly.

The man looked at her expectantly, as though waiting for her to do something to quench the shrieking infant.

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

With a sigh, the farmer leaned over and wiggled his pudgy digit in front of the youngster 's boldness, trying to amuse and pacify the child.

For a few s, it seemed to be working ; the little boy 's bastard slowly quieted, and he began gazing hungrily at the old James Leonard Farmer 's cheating fingers.

The child watched them go back and forth. Then slowly the baby opened his jaw wide-cut and slammed it shut on the prominent of the man 's fingerbreadth. Severing his thumb.

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

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

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

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

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

Her words were returned by his silence and a flavour of veneration and mix-up. His screaming silenced and he fumbled with the lock on his threshold.

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

The char 's strength surprising him, her steel-like grip was near impossible to break. So his constant struggling to get some aloofness, only made him weaker.

She nonchalantly brushed away the pilus on his neck opening and dug her canine into the suave frail flesh of his throat.

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

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

She then pressed the nipper 's lips against one of the two punctures that were still oozing blood droplets. The baby took two reluctant swallows and stopped his suckling.

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

Reluctantly bundling up the babe, she turned to the door preparing to head back into the Wood.

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

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

Moving towards the woodwind instrument she quipped, `` Because inglorious does n't stain. ``

The End ...