copyright 2019 by tcs1963

All Rights Reserved

'' blackness DOES N'T STAIN ''

by tcs1963

Her skin was pale white, almost to the point of glowing. She was hitchhiking, with her thumb stuck out like a well-lit signpost. Her left arm cradling a small bundle very gently but protectively.

I noticed her because her cutis contrasted against the morose Nox sky. Almost as if luring me to pull out over, like preadolescent child trusting the molester in a contaminating 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 go along this new lady by. Helping her seemed dead paramount.

Her beaut called out to me like some sorting of siren 's Sung. Making my anxious flavour of fearfulness energy to the rachis of my brain, along with my logic.

Along with her Mexican onyx skin, this immature ma'am dressed very uniquely. Like she had stepped off the front of your dearie gothic or kindling rock-and-roll album back.

The brightness level cinch sweeping her hair across her cheek. The flowing devour black locks curling willy-nilly around her grimace. Making her flavor innocent but serious at the Lapplander time.

Her tiny consistency was completely enveloped in a black leather duster type jacket, hanging down almost past her knees. Accenting the little black dress underneath. It finished off her tough look like she could be in some kind of bike club.

The only part of her that was neither black nor white was her mouth, which were a deep bloodline red. Scary night and wet like a angry animal that had just eaten a uncommon piece of meat.

This odd combination of frock, which would have looked affected on anyone else, had the polar event on her. So she was n't surprised that the first car that stopped held a man. An former Fannie Merritt Farmer stylus man to be exact.

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

'' Anywhere, '' she softly muttered. Pulling the parcel in her branch tighter to her chest. `` Anywhere but here. ``

She walked up to the rusty green motortruck door and paused, as though she was trying to decide whether to get in or not.

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

She smiled gratefully, her pointed teeth accidentally poking out between her back talk. Then she slid into the worn leather seat.

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

The adult female just gestured with her foreland toward the forest and continued as if she were feeding the tyke in her arms. Suckling randomness coming across the buns, spurring the old farmer 's imagination of Thomas Young succulent breast.

'' Not very talky are you ? '' the unkempt old Fannie Farmer mumbled in a tone that was almost inaudible to himself. But she caught every syllable.

She just glared at the farmer, hunger and anger were getting the meliorate of her. Her eyes were pits of darkness sparking with anger, as her inherent aptitude kicked into overdrive.

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

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

But before she could answer his question, a piercing lament filled the air. It was coming from the big bucks of textile, clasped against her breast.

The inhuman scream continued as the cleaning lady began unraveling the cloth. One layer off, then another, and another, until finally, the child was naked.

There, beneath all of those level and blankets, lay a scrawny baby boy, not a particularly beautiful baby, but a baby all the same.

'' Ai n't ya going ta shut it up ? '' he yelled, just flash enough that he could be heard over the infant '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 screaming babe.

She just sat there, her ghostly T. H. White breast 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 roly-poly fingerbreadth in front of the child 's grimace, trying to disport and gruntle the shaver.

For a few second, it seemed to be working ; the short boy 's sobs slowly quieted, and he began gazing hungrily at the old farmer 's lousy fingers.

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

The man screamed, slamming on the bracken. Cradling his helping hand and staring at what remained of his quarter round in jar.

Within seconds the infant boy began wailing again, spitting out the leftover of the finger's breadth he had been gnawing on.

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

She shoved the digit back into the sister 's backtalk and began moving his jaw up and down, forcing him to chew it, the unharmed time oblivious to the man 's endless screaming.

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

Her words were returned by his secretiveness and a look of fear and confusion. His screaming silenced and he fumbled with the lock on his door.

Scrambling, he had almost gotten the doorway out-of-doors when the fair sex grabbed his arm. His blood sheeting across the windshield.

The charwoman 's force surprising him, her steel-like bobby pin was near impossible to break. So his constant struggling to get some distance, only made him weaker.

She nonchalantly brushed away the hair on his neck and dug her eye tooth into the liquid ticklish frame of his throat.

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

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

She then pressed the child 's rim against one of the two punctures that were still oozing line of descent droplets. The infant took two reluctant swallow and stopped his suckling.

She pressed the youngster against his bloody pharynx, but to her concern, he would not suckle anymore.

Reluctantly bundling up the sister, she turned to the door preparing to head back into the Ellen Price 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 groan that the woman took for agreement.

Moving towards the Sir Henry Joseph Wood she quipped, `` Because dark does n't stain. ``

The End ...