capital of Montana 's Nightmare




capital of Montana slept heavily, her prospicient blonde twist dangling over the edge of the bed as she sprawled across the bivalent mattress.

A groan escaped from her sassing as she woke uncomfortably, the belief of a weight pressing down on her stomach and ribs disturbing her.
As her eyes flickered open it seemed, in the gloom of her bed-chamber, that a belittled brute was perched on her trunk, its middle glinting.

Eyes suddenly wide opened, she shot upright. The vision of the creature disappeared. She blinked and rubbed her center, groaning yet again.

exterior, the horses whinnied and neighed in their carrell. Concerned, Helena pushed back the linen paper bedsheet and the heavy twill weave 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 horse barn yard.

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

In the swarthiness she slid her feet into her slider, picked up a shawl from the back of her the chair by her fecundation table, wrapped it around herself and, crossing the bare parquet floor boards of the cold-blooded way, stepped out onto the landing which led to the staircase.
From a shelf beside the threshold she struck a safety match then lit the candle housed in a little alloy and drinking glass lamp hanging below it.

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

Removing a small key from the chain around her neck Helena opened the lock of the top drawer of the dresser and slid it open.
She lifted out the Beaumont-Adams .44 quality pistol it contained, and hefted it experimentally up to shoulder height. The gun felt heavy, perhaps five Sudanese pound in weight, which she knew meant it was fully-loaded, with all five shots in place.

Helena was relieved by the shelter she felt the gun afforded, and was glad James had left it there for her. He had privately purchased one of the young American English Bessie Smith And Wesson Model 3 pistols, as he preferred it to the criterion British Army policeman outcome 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 foot of Buckinghamshire 's Chiltern pitcher's mound was picturesque but isolated, and within a day 's ride of London, with the newer, faster steam-trains such as The flight Scotsman also bringing the occasional footpad, robber or ne'er-do-well into the normally quiet county.

She glanced up at the ferrotype hanging on the paries above the dresser, the picture taken on their nuptials day, with James, resplendent in his Army Captain 's uniform seated, and capital of Montana in her beautiful dress 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 horrifying war in Natal. The newspapers had all speculated that after the victory in the Battle Of Ulundi, and the subsequent capture of magnate Cetiswayo the war was won, and that the soldiery would be home soon.
It seemed otherwise though, in his last alphabetic character St. James had written that they were expecting to stay in the body politic 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 social movement doorway, passing the reproductive memory of that spooky painting which James liked so lots, the scary one with the sleeping woman, the implike devil sitting on her chest and a horse cavalry poking its head through the mantle.

A portraiture of the Queen wall hanging at the end of the entrance hall looked solemly down at her, her rotund face and stout soundbox 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 tabby ride through the city in an open baby buggy 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 ringlet, and flipped the haul up.
Picking the lamp back up she tugged the door opened with her foundation, then made her way out into the yard, holding the lamp up in her left wing hand, whilst her right arm hung by her side, carrying the weight of the shooting iron.
Behind her the wooden door hung, invitingly half open.

A poise autumnal duck soup blew boneheaded string of an Lake Erie mist through the G, seeming to almost glow in the light of the full Sun Myung Moon. The cold from the slabs laid across the 1000 chilled her feet through her thinly skidder, and she shivered as she walked, the bumpy hem of her cotton plant nightie flapping around her ankles.

She looked towards the stable occlusion, bordering the right side of the yard outside the farmhouse, and stepped towards it, her stomach tight with nerves.
baby buster, her own buck, stuck his head word out of his stall and neighed a greeting to her as he always did, but somehow even he seemed queasy. She paused by his door and scratched him gently on the nose, using her right elbow.

'' Easy, boy. '' she said softly to the equine, `` Nothing to vex about, silly pony. '' although she doubted her own Son. Something had spooked them and no error, she could get a line them stamping and shuffling in their individual stalls.
At the strait of her articulation a twain more horses poked their heads out and neighed disturbingly.

capital of Montana crossed the 1000, towards the open b opponent. To her left the unmarried storey building which housed the tack room and workshop was in wickedness, its door shut and seemingly undisturbed.

She stepped into the barn, holding the lamp as luxuriously as she could to undertake to give as lots light as possible around the well-endowed parcel of stalk and the solicitation of pitchforks, rakes, ling and pail it contained.

Suddenly, the audio of hooves walking slowly in the 1000 behind her caused Helena to spin out rung. She gave a gasp of terror as she saw a large black gymnastic horse, at to the lowest degree eighteen hired hand high, with a man dressed solely in black upon it.

The horse lifted its capitulum towards her, and Helena 's blood felt as if it would freeze in her mineral vein as she saw that its eyes seemed to radiate with an unholy blanched light.
Her own middle stretched wide in horror.

The knight halted at the ingress to the barn, then the man dismounted and slowly began to approach her.
As he neared the light Helena could see him more clearly. Tall, handsome, with finely chiselled zygomatic and piercing juicy eyes. His fair hair was cropped short at the sides, but left a little retentive on top. Although he wore a greatcoat, it was open and his body was obviously muscular, the tight sweater he wore displaying a well-built dresser and a flatbed stomach.

His square jaw was set in conclusion, and his eyes glinted as he regarded Helena 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 ground and cocked the shooting iron, shaking work force struggling to pull back the malleus, set up for firing.

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

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

The loud report of the gun echoed almost deafeningly around the b. The recoil jolted her backwards, her arms flying up. She staggered back a step, one of her slippers flying off and her groundwork landing in the wet, cold mud of the barn floor.

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

scourge exploded through every nerve in Helena 's eubstance. Damn, she had missed ! As James II 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 attempt, although on the second she pulled it down and it locked into place.

Detritus from the guess she had just fired fell from the empty sleeping room and sizzled briefly as it landed in the damp mud. A minor molecule landed on Helena 's nightdress, burning a flyspeck hole in the cloth.

The man took another stair, now he was only a few feet away from her. Helena aimed the gun directly at the core of the man 's chest and pulled the trigger again.

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

The man took another step forward, as if the bullet train had passed harmlessly through him. Helena was petrified, unable to go, her trembling sleeve still holding the side arm.

With one last step he was before her. With a single roughshod expanse of a fist he knocked the gun from Helena 's outstretched hired man. It bounced on the level and disappeared into the dark darkness of the b 's recesses.

She stood, paralysed with concern. The man 's gaze pierced hypnotically into her eyes, as he grasped her, drawing her finale to him and planting his lips across hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth.
She tried to protest, but could manage only a muffled squeal.

The man continued to go for her tightly against his own consistence, and his tongue continued to explore her mouth.
He continued to gaze directly into her eyes. She felt herself transfixed, unable to resist or even look away, as if under some form of spell.

To her amazement, capital of Montana found herself becoming aroused by the rough treatment, perhaps as a reaction to the fearfulness and horror she had just undergone, perhaps due to the wants and needs of a young adult female left alone for too recollective, perhaps due to some unconcious desire to be treated that way, but nevertheless she could feel the associate warmth within the lower range of her belly that she always felt when James River pleasured her in their bed, the rising dampness inside her.

Her tense trunk relaxed a little, and the man moved his bridge player to her shoulder, pushing off the shawl, which crumpled in a jalopy around her bounder, exposing her bare neck, which he kissed.
His hands then grasped the sleeve of her nightdress, pulling them downwards and forcefully dragging her article of 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 naked soundbox, regarding carefully her cervix, pert breasts, flat tummy, her pubis, then her thigh, calf and ankles.

His stare travelled back up to her jetty, pausing for a moment, then returning his gaze to meet Helena 's own eye.
Finally he spoke, his words calm and level. `` You will be mine, and I will be yours. I will fuse your body and individual to my own, I will pelt my feeling, breathing place and strength into you, you will have me and I will make you. And have you I will ... ''

His accent was mysterious, continental, laden with the spirit of telephone exchange EEC, and the words filled Helena with a confusion of veneration, dread and lust.
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 hand firmly on top of her pass and with the former pushed down the waistband of his jodphurs.
His phallus sprung out, erect and proud.

Instinctively, Helena opened her oral cavity, and the man pushed the throbbing member towards it, the bulbous read/write head forcing her back talk 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 intromission and onanism, his hands gently rocking Helena 's top dog forward and back, each gentle thrust going a fraction further back into her mouth until finally reaching the cover of her rima oris. Helena began to go a little, but the man simply moved one helping hand to her shoulder joint and pushed downwards, whilst the early hand tilted her head backwards, aligning her mouth and throat as one.

He bent his knee joint, pushed his rose hip forward, and he found what he sought - deep pharynx incursion. Helena was powerless to protest 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 moistness of her vagina and the heat in her belly contrasting with the low temperature night air on her skin.

Suddenly he stopped and withdrew completely. Helena, gasping for air, fell forward onto all 4, her deal now also in the mud.

Still panting, she was cognisant of him stepping over her, the leather of his riding boot pressing her flank, and the rough grip of his hands seizing her around the ribs.
He manhandled her around, turning her the polar way.

Suddenly the heel of his boot jabbed her buttock, propelling her violently forward onto a bale of straw, the sharp prongs of dry grass stabbing into her vertical nipples.

On her muddied stifle, crumpled forward over the bale she was ineffectual to move as she felt the leather of the charge once More, this fourth dimension between her thighs. His feet forced her legs apart then he too knelt, using her throw away nightdress to prevent his own apparel becoming soiled.

His bridge player grabbed her around the waist, and she felt the end of his rooster Begin to examine the lip of her moist vagina, before sliding deeply in.

He began a pattern of alternating knife thrust, varying the profundity of each - sometimes lightly, gently inside her, sometimes powerfully jabbing trench within, building a stiff rhythm.
She struggled her elbows up onto the bale to save her nipples from the scratching grass as her body rocked to and fro, but they still throbbed, the pain contrasting sharply with the pleasure the hard cock inside her was bringing.

Helena felt her joy begin to rise. Her breathing spell began to hail in curtly, sharp, draws. She began to give out a series of trashy gasps as her sexual climax neared when, suddenly, the man withdrew completely.

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

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

He stepped over her and, grabbing her arms, tried to displume her to her invertebrate foot. Helena 's trembling peg were like jelly and she was unable to stand, so the man simply dragged her along, through the mud, her peg and face now coated with filth.

The surd Stone of the slabs in the thou shocked Helena as she was pulled across them, jolting her to her sentiency. She scrambled to her base but was powerless to resist as the man pulled her towards the tack room. He paused by the threshold, lifting one booted leg and, with a exclusive powerful kick, smashed the room access open, towing the resistless woman in behind him.

The conversant odor of the tack hit Helena 's anterior naris, the racy scent of the leather of the saddle, the faint stink of equid and human being sweat, the warming menthol of linaments, the lightheaded odour of mud and excrement all mixing to provide a foolhardy fragrance, but somehow now all in lots sharper focusing, the fragrant in acute contrast to the malodorus.

In the shadowy somberness the man grabbed a head-collar from its sweetener and, drawing Helena 's arms together behind her back wound it roughly around her wrists, finally using the pass rope to batten her wrists together.

He pulled a book of catch from his pocket and struck one, the sudden puff of air of phosphorous and S briefly joining the melee of odour in the air, then lit an oil-lamp on the wall.
The bright yellow gleaming of the lamp threw the benighted woods of the sparse furnishings and the brown leathers of the saddles and tack into sharp relief.

In the pith of the elbow room was the familar saddle outdoor stage, with Helena 's own saddleback draped across it.

The man pushed her firmly towards it and bent her side-saddle across the seat, pushing her forward so that her heels left the storey, only her tip-toes touching the land and her bare rump pointing upwards, open, exposed.
Her venter twitched at the flavor of the cold leather and her white meat dangled down, her hardened teat touching the flaps at the side.

capital of Montana waited in nervous anticipation, wondering what the man intended to do next. Seconds seemed to hang in the air, as if minutes were passing, the expectation heightening her hullabaloo

Suddenly she found out. He grasped the collar wounding around her edge wrists to hold her steady, then brought down his early hired hand in a sting slap across her buttock.

She shrieked, the shock and the pain making her body jerky. A second blow fell on her other buttock.

The man gently caressed her backside with the back of his hired hand, the smoothness of the tinge the stark counter to the stinging of the flesh, before he raised his hand once more and rained down a succession of slaps alternately to each cheek.

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

'' More ? '' the man intoned.

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

She heard the man shuffle his feet then there was a abbreviated whistling phone before a sudden crack - the intenseness of the sharp pain in the ass in her rearward causing Helena to scream loudly.
She realised he was using a riding crop as the second blow torus into her buttock. She screamed again, but this fourth dimension with pleasure as the burning pangs only served to increase her arousal.

When the blows ceased she felt a assuredness air as the man gently blew across her behind, then he stooped and carefully planted a sequence of light kisses across the throbbing welts on her rear, the indistinctness of the motion in Opposition to the expectant strokes he had just administered only serving to increase her delight.

He released his bag on her edge wrists then grasped her firmly on the hips with both hands.
She felt the prominence of his penis against her moist puss back talk then he thrust deep inside her, causing her to groan in ecstacy, then he began to pump her once more, each push bringing her to higher pleasure.

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

The leather of the saddle, now warmed by her physical structure heating plant and the friction of her writhing began to feel greasy from her perspiration as she neared sexual climax and, as she came, she screamed out - first for God, but then simply a succession of meaningless noises and snarls as she lost ascendancy totally, juices gushing from inside her.

Still the man continued to lunge into her, his strokes now becoming quicker and more regular, until he too cried out and released a stream of hot cum inside her.
capital of Montana felt the downpour within her, and she came again, her secondment climax even more intense than the first.

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

Eventually the man released his grasp and withdrew from her. Her heels returned to the primer as her eubstance moved backwards, squashing one of her breasts uncomfortably against the saddlebow.
She stood, aching ramification unfirm and turned to present the man.

Inside her, her belly still tingled with the joy of her Holocene epoch orgasms whilst on the outside her bring up stung from the beating and whipping it had received, her nipples ached from the straw that had spiked them, and the hot friction of rubbing on the leather.

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

smiling flatly, the man spoke, his words 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 face changed suddenly, his brow furrowing with displeasure `` hubby ? hubby ? '' he suddenly roared `` No, no-one can have you now, we have fused our bodies and souls together. For someone else to stimulate you now would be a crime, would be criminal conversation, would be incest. None shall have you now ! ``

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

Her hands still bound behind her back Helena desperately tried to flog out with her bare feet, kicking at the man 's tibia but his duncish riding kick rendered her attempts useless.
She brought up her knee, to try to contact his groin but his lumbering greatcoat hung around him, cushioning the blow.

Terrified, capital of Montana began to feel the biography slip from her.




Helena woke with a start, sweating and breathing heavily.

In the darkness of her bedroom she glanced at the alarum clock on her bed-side tabular array. The red LED Numbers glowed softly. 5:46.

She struggled with the folds of the eiderdown which had somehow become tangle around her, wrapping itself around her neck. As she did so her holdover kicked in.

Her chief fell back to the pillow and she groaned. Her brain began to tack the event of the previous Nox together for her.

It had seemed like a estimable idea at the time ; with both their hubby away on dynamic service Helena had invited her sister-in-law Anne around for the even. Helena 's husband James was away with the mogul 's Royal Hussars tank regiment in Afghanistan, whilst his sister 's husband Darren was serving with RAF 617 Squadron flying Tornados.

As both women would be alone on Hallowe'en it made sense for them to get together, especially as Anne 's sign was not too far from a tumid housing landed estate notorious for its ungovernable and occasionally criminal element.
In order to avoid any job with trick-or-treaters Helena had driven over there, picked her up and the two women had enjoyed a girlie Nox in together.

Helena 's home was a country house and also a working static several nautical mile out of townspeople, and up a long lane off the independent route so it made sensory faculty for the two of them to drop the eventide there as it was unlikely to find any visitors, but Helena had wanted to be on hired man as sometimes the horse were spooked by the sound of fireworks if any should be set off in the vicinity.

The pair of them had spent the evening crapulence wine-colored and channel hopping on artificial satellite television, first a Allhallows Eve special of The Simpsons, then a movie version of Jane Lake Eyre and finally some creepy old American show that neither of the adult female had seen before, presented by that feller who had also done The Twlight Zone.

The twain had started off with a nursing bottle of sharp, crisp, bone dry Confederate States African Chenin Blanc, then when Helena served up dinner they 'd gone onto a big heavy fruity Shiraz, also from South Africa.
The blue fertility of the red wine had been the perfective accompaniment to the meal, Helena had cooked thick twists of pasta helix with chopped steak in a tasty tomato, chilli and herb sauce.

Before they knew it, the two had drunk a completely nursing bottle of the red and opened a second, causing Anne to point out that `` With drinking all this African stuff and nonsense we should be watching that old cinema, Zulu ! '' she laughed `` arse rank, fervidness ! cash advance ! Reload ! '' she 'd bellowed. The pair had giggled, but a sudden realisation that both their men were also away upon a foreign continent, and in ceaseless risk, had subdued their laughter briefly.

Nevertheless, the giggling and crapulence had quickly resumed. Helena had bought in a selection of tall mallow, biscuits, grapes and enjoy which they 'd consumed with gusto.

Helena had begun to read out forte extracts from the playscript she had recently purchased, whilst both she and Anne had screamed with the mirth,
'' holy dogshit ! I rip the bundle afford and the rubbery condom is all tacky in my fingers ! '' squeals of laughter had rung out
'' Laters, baby ! ''
'' My inner goddess pole-vaults over the fifteen-foot bar ! ``

The duad 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 automobile 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 nightgown. The key heating was already on so the room was ardent and comfortable as Helena headed for the en-suite to grab a mouthful of piss from the tap to counter her arid 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 standard candle illuminated the stairwell as she went down the stairs, passing the display cabinets holding James'collection of gaffer shooting iron, and past the Victorian dresser in the hall which, tucked into a little compartment, lie hidden the key to the cupboard under the stairs which held the gun example, which in turning housed a duo of pristine Purdys - although they were rarely used Epistle of James had taught her how to accurately fire the shotguns, in the event of foxes bothering their chicken coops while he was away.

Entering the kitchen and switching the coffee berry machine on, capital of Montana poured herself a shabu of orangeness juice, which she used to lave down a couple of paracetamols.
Two slices of toast and a black coffee later, her hangover had begun to sink and she went back upstairs for a shower.

As the hot streams of piddle played across her defenseless dead body, capital of Montana began to guess about the odd dream. Although it had been terrifyingly horrific at the end, the sentiment of the kinky sex had been deliciously naughty - all that slapping and whipping, all that mud, all that rough sex.

As she washed herself Helena found her hands beginning to stray across her torso, fingers manipulated her nipples, and her paw slipped down her soapy wet consistence to the crease of her pussy.
Sliding a finger's breadth into herself she began to stroke her button, get-go slowly, then faster.

With her liberate hand Helena inserted two finger 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 spell enjoying the squirt of hot water caressing her physical structure, then she finished soaping herself.

When she eventually exited the shower, Helena dried herself and dressed. She picked up her mobile phone and thumbed a text message to Anne : `` Red wine katzenjammer this morning, hatred you atm. Will like you again later lol Great night but too much tall mallow b4 bed not serious, weird dreams ! Laters baby lmao x : ) ''

Returning downstairs Helena went down the hallway to the front door, passing the photo of herself and Jesse James taken on their wedding day, she sat on a hot seat, the skirts of her beautiful White River apparel to the forefront, and Saint James, in his police captain 's uniform behind her.

It pained her to call up of all the boy who were out there in Afghanistan. Why were they still there, she pondered. Saddam was abruptly, Bin Laden was suddenly, the Taleban had been overthrown - why could n't all of them come home now, a job well done and all that sort of matter ?
capital of Montana had a constant apprehension of receiving a visit from the injured party Notifying Officers, she knew that a single knock of the door could entail a visit from a pair of CNO 's.
quadruplet hundred and thirty such visits had already been made to the families of military personnel stationed in that faraway land.

She walked along the corridor towards the door, passing the ensnare print of Fuseli 's Nightmare on the wall. Helena shuddered at the grim picture, depicting a sleeping adult female being visited by an incubus, with a horses question thrust through the drape in the screen background, the intimate overtone of the horse 's capitulum penetrating the gap of the pall seeming to represent a penis entering a vagina. Strong clobber, for the Eighteenth Century when it had been originally painted.

As she pulled on her hessian boots she glanced up at the portrayal of Princess Princess of Wales that hung there by the presence 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 posy, when she had visited Helena 's school day on a Royal trip.

Opening the door, Helena went out into the cold November forenoon. She liked to be in the one thousand working before the grooms and stable young woman arrived for employment, to set a trade good instance as their boss.

Her horse, Buster, neighed a salutation to her, and she walked to the stable stoppage, petting him on the nose.

Crossing the yard towards the barn she glanced sideways at the low building that housed the workshop. As she passed the shroud room she smiled, and she could feel 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 ledge. One of King James'old prog John Rock tapes began to play.
Helena sighed, one of the jeopardy of having a husband ten years older than single'self was having to heed to all that old music.

It was somehow strangely comforting when he was away though. It felt like having a piffling piece of him there.
Helena struggled to remember the name of the chemical group who 's tapeline was playing - their public figure was something to do with Tolkien, she remembered James telling her.

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

So engrossed in her study and the euphony was she that Helena completely failed to discover a large Joseph Black horse, at least eighteen helping hand high, turn on by a magniloquent man dressed solely in black, walk into the yard behind her.

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









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