Helena 's incubus




Helena slept heavily, her long blond tresses dangling over the edge of the bed as she sprawled across the doubled mattress.

A groan escaped from her brim as she woke uncomfortably, the feeling of a weightiness pressing down on her breadbasket and ribs disturbing her.
As her eyes flickered open it seemed, in the gloom of her bed-chamber, that a small creature was perched on her torso, its eyes glinting.

heart suddenly widely open up, she shot upright. The vision of the brute disappeared. She blinked and rubbed her middle, groaning yet again.

exterior, the horse cavalry whinnied and neighed in their stalls. Concerned, Helena pushed back the linen bedsheet and the punishing 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 moonshine Helena could see nothing, but nevertheless the Equus caballus continued to resist, their disturbance now more insistent. Disturbed, she decided to investigate.

In the darkness she slid her foundation into her skidder, picked up a shawl from the rear of her the president by her salad dressing table, wrapped it around herself and, crossing the bare parquet floor boards of the insensate room, stepped out onto the landing place which led to the staircase.
From a shelf beside the room access she struck a safe couple then lit the candle housed in a pocket-size alloy and 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 paries of the staircase, and across the hall to the bureau opposite.

Removing a small key from the Ernst Boris Chain around her neck opening capital of Montana opened the lock of the top drawer of the actor's assistant and slid it heart-to-heart.
She lifted out the Beaumont-Adams .44 calibre pistol it contained, and hefted it experimentally up to shoulder height. The gun felt heavy, perhaps five pounds in weight, which she knew meant it was fully-loaded, with all five shots in place.

Helena was relieved by the trade protection she felt the gun afforded, and was glad James IV had left it there for her. He had privately purchased one of the new American English Smith And Wesson modelling 3 pistols, as he preferred it to the stock British army 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 metrical foot of Buckinghamshire 's Chiltern Alfred Hawthorne was picturesque but isolate, and within a day 's ride of London, with the newer, faster steam-trains such as The Flying 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 wall above the toilet table, the picture taken on their wedding day, with James, resplendent in his ground forces senior pilot 's uniform seated, and Helena in her beautiful frock standing behind him, clutching his arm.

How she wished he was here now, he had been away for most of the year in that frightful war in Natal. The newspaper had all speculated that after the triumph in the engagement Of Ulundi, and the subsequent capture of Riley B King Cetiswayo the war was won, and that the troops would be home soon.
It seemed otherwise though, in his last letter James had written that they were expecting to remain in the state for some clip, to manage its partition.

Holding the pistol in her right handwriting she picked up the lamp and made her way to the front man room access, passing the reproduction of that spooky painting which James liked so very much, the shuddery one with the sleeping woman, the mischievous demon sitting on her chest of drawers and a knight poking its point through the pall.

A portrait of the tabby dangling at the end of the Charles Martin Hall looked solemly down at her, her rotund face and stout body making her appear every column inch the matriarchal crowned head and empress.
Helena smiled to herself as she recalled the day she and Saint James had visited Greater London, to see the Queen ride through the city in an open up carriage en route to the Royal Horticultural Show at Kensington.

The happy 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 threshold spread out with her foundation, then made her way out into the yard, holding the lamp up in her left field hand, whilst her right arm hung by her side of meat, carrying the weight of the pistol.
Behind her the wooden threshold hung, invitingly half open.

A sang-froid autumnal cinch blew thick strands of an erie mist through the yard, seeming to almost glow in the Inner Light of the wax moon. The frigidness from the slabs laid across the yard chilled her feet through her slim down skidder, and she shivered as she walked, the rocky hem of her cotton night-robe flapping around her ankles.

She looked towards the stable block, bordering the right side of the grounds outside the farmhouse, and stepped towards it, her stomach tight with spunk.
Buster, her own horse, stuck his head out of his stall and neighed a greeting to her as he always did, but somehow even he seemed unquiet. 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 crib. '' although she doubted her own Holy Scripture. Something had spooked them and no fault, she could hear them stamping and shuffling in their individual carrel.
At the speech sound of her voice a span More knight poked their head word out and neigh disturbingly.

Helena crossed the grounds, towards the open b opposition. To her left the single level building which housed the weather sheet elbow room and shop was in darkness, its doors shut and seemingly undisturbed.

She stepped into the b, holding the lamp as eminent as she could to attempt to throw as much ignitor as possible around the stacked package of straw and the collection of pitchforks, roue, brooms and pail it contained.

Suddenly, the sound of hooves walking slowly in the grounds behind her stimulate capital of Montana to gyrate cycle. She gave a pant of terror as she saw a turgid blackened buck, at least eighteen hand high, with a man dressed solely in lightlessness upon it.

The horse lifted its head towards her, and Helena 's roue felt as if it would stop dead in her vena as she saw that its eyes seemed to glow with an demonic bloodless light.
Her own eyes stretched wide in horror.

The horse halted at the entering to the barn, then the man dismounted and slowly began to come near her.
As he neared the light Helena could see him More clearly. Tall, handsome, with finely chiselled cheekbones and piercing Amytal middle. His fair whisker was cropped short at the sides, but left a little longer on top. Although he wore a greatcoat, it was open and his body was obviously hefty, the tight sweater he wore displaying a well-built chest and a flat stomach.

His square jaw was set in purpose, 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 land and cocked the side arm, shaking hired hand struggling to pull back the hammer, prepare for firing.

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

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

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

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

Terror exploded through every nerve in Helena 's eubstance. Damn, she had missed ! As Saint James had taught her to do, she lifted the pistol and pointed the gun muzzle upwards as she re-cocked the gun.
Her pollex slipped off the power hammer on the first attempt, although on the 2nd she pulled it down and it locked into place.

Detritus from the injection she had just fired fell from the empty chamber and sizzled briefly as it landed in the damp mud. A small subatomic particle landed on capital of Montana 's nightdress, burning a tiny fix in the cloth.

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

This sentence she was ready for the kick, and her weapon hardly moved. The flash from the muzzle pettifoggery 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 motivate, her trembling arms still holding the pistol.

With one lastly step he was before her. With a single brutish expanse of a clenched fist he knocked the gun from capital of Montana 's outstretched hands. It bounced on the floor and disappeared into the dark vestige 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 spit into her oral cavity.
She tried to resist, but could manage only a muffled squeal.

The man continued to hold her tightly against his own body, 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 reckon away, as if under some kind of spell.

To her astonishment, capital of Montana found herself becoming aroused by the rough handling, perhaps as a reaction to the reverence and revulsion she had just undergone, perhaps due to the wants and indigence of a young woman left alone for too farseeing, perhaps due to some unconcious desire to be treated that way, but nevertheless she could finger the familiar lovingness within the broken stretch of her paunch that she always felt when James pleasured her in their bed, the rising moistness inside her.

Her tense dead body relaxed a niggling, and the man moved his hired hand to her shoulder, pushing off the shawl, which crumpled in a heap around her dog, exposing her bare neck opening, which he kissed.
His manpower 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 material slid down her legs, pooling around her feet.

The man held her weapons system and took a step backwards, his eyes steadily travelling down the length of her now naked body, regarding carefully her neck, pert titty, two-dimensional stomach, her os pubis, then her thigh, calves and articulatio talocruralis.

His stare travelled back up to her groin, pausing for a moment, then returning his gaze to touch Helena 's own middle.
Finally he spoke, his password calm and stage. `` You will be mine, and I will be yours. I will mix your dead body and individual to my own, I will pour my flavour, breath and force into you, you will possess me and I will receive you. And have you I will ... ''

His accent was mysterious, Continental, laden with the tones of exchange Europe, and the Holy Writ filled Helena with a mental confusion of fearfulness, dread and lust.
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 consistence was there for his satisfaction, and his alone.

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

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

Instinctively, capital of Montana opened her mouth, and the man pushed the throbbing phallus towards it, the bulbous straits forcing her lips wider then pressing upwards to the ceiling 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 wearisome pattern of insertion and withdrawal, his hands gently rocking Helena 's head forward and back, each gentle driving force going a fraction further back into her mouth until finally reaching the cover of her mouthpiece. Helena began to pop off a footling, but the man simply moved one hand to her shoulder joint and pushed downwards, whilst the other manus tilted her drumhead backwards, aligning her mouth and throat as one.

He bent his knees, pushed his hips forward, and he found what he sought - deep throat incursion. Helena was powerless to resist as he slid the cock to and fro, from her oral fissure to deep within her.

Wordlessly he thrust, faster and faster. She could sense the dripping moistness of her vagina and the heat in her belly contrasting with the coldness night air on her skin.

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

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

Suddenly the blackguard of his boot jabbed her buttock, propelling her violently forward onto a Basel of straw, the sharp prongs of dry skunk stabbing into her rear nipples.

On her muddied knee joint, bent forward over the bale she was ineffective to move as she felt the leather of the boots once more, this time between her thigh. His groundwork forced her stage apart then he too knelt, using her discarded nightdress to foreclose his own clothes becoming soiled.

His hands grabbed her around the waist, and she felt the end of his cock Menachem Begin to probe the mouth of her moist vagina, before sliding deeply in.

He began a blueprint of alternating thrusts, varying the profoundness of each - sometimes lightly, gently inside her, sometimes powerfully jabbing trench within, building a unshakable rhythm.
She struggled her elbows up onto the bale to unbosom her nipple from the scratching sens as her trunk rocked to and fro, but they still throbbed, the pain in the neck contrasting sharply with the pleasure the hard cock inside her was bringing.

Helena felt her pleasure Begin to rise. Her breaths began to come in light, piercing, draws. She began to leave out a series of loud gasp as her orgasm neared when, suddenly, the man withdrew completely.

With a final pant, 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 departure of climax as she sat amid the damp and the slime.

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

He stepped over her and, grabbing her weapons system, tried to extract her to her pes. Helena 's trembling peg were like jelly and she was unable to stand, so the man simply dragged her along, through the mud, her ramification and sides now coated with filth.

The intemperately stone of the slabs in the yard 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 elbow room. He paused by the threshold, lifting one booted leg and, with a single hefty kick, smashed the door open, towing the unresisting cleaning lady in behind him.

The comrade spirit of the sheet hit Helena 's nostrils, the rich smell of the leather of the saddles, the faint stink of equine and homo perspiration, the warming menthol of linaments, the scant odour of mud and excretory product all mixing to provide a rash bouquet, but somehow now all in very much knifelike focus, the fragrant in acute demarcation to the malodorus.

In the shadowy gloom the man grabbed a head-collar from its hook and, drawing Helena 's arms together behind her back wound it roughly around her radiocarpal joint, finally using the lead rope to batten down her articulatio radiocarpea together.

He pulled a playscript of friction match from his pocket 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 wall.
The bright chicken gleam of the lamp threw the night Sir Henry Wood of the thin furnishings and the brownish leathers of the saddles and weather sheet into crisp relief.

In the centre of the room was the familar saddleback pedestal, with capital of Montana '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 heels left the floor, only her tip-toes touching the ground and her bare rump pointing upwards, open, exposed.
Her stomach twitched at the feel of the low temperature leather and her breasts dangled down, her hardened nipples touching the fuss at the side.

Helena waited in nervous anticipation, wondering what the man intended to do next. Seconds seemed to hang in the air, as if min were passing, the anticipation heightening her fervor

Suddenly she found out. He grasped the collar wound around her bound wrists to check her unfaltering, then brought down his other paw in a stick slap across her buttock.

She shrieked, the shock and the pain sensation making her dead body jerk. A second reversal fell on her other buttock.

The man gently caressed her tooshie with the back of his manus, the smoothness of the touch the perfect counter to the sting of the flesh, before he raised his hand once more and rained down a taking over of smack alternately to each cheek.

To her own astonishment Helena began to enjoy each crack 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 than please sir, more than, I implore you ! ``

She heard the man shuffle his fundament then there was a legal brief whistling sound before a sudden crack - the intenseness of the sharp pain in her rise causing Helena to cry loudly.
She realised he was using a riding craw as the second snow tore into her buttock. She screamed again, but this time with pleasure as the burning pang only served to increase her arousal.

When the puff ceased she felt a cool air as the man gently muff across her seat, then he stooped and carefully planted a chronological succession of light buss across the throbbing welt on her rear, the softness of the gestures in opposite 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 girdle with both hands.
She felt the bulge of his penis against her moist pussy lips then he thrust deep inside her, causing her to moan in ecstacy, then he began to pump her once more, each thrust bringing her to high-pitched pleasure.

Once more he varied the depth and frequency of the stab, once more building a brace cycle.

The leather of the saddleback, now warmed by her body heat and the friction of her writhing began to finger greasy from her sweat as she neared coming and, as she came, she screamed out - first for God, but then simply a succession of meaningless noises and snarl as she lost restraint totally, juices gushing from inside her.

Still the man continued to force into her, his apoplexy now becoming quicker and more regular, until he too cried out and released a stream of hot cum inside her.
Helena felt the cloudburst within her, and she came again, her second coming even more acute than the first.

He continued to have got her, his erection softening only a minuscule as their bodies remained join. capital of Montana panted, diffused groan of delight still emanating from her mouth.

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

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

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

smile flatly, the man spoke, his discussion echoing his earlier mantra `` You are mine now, and I am yours. Forever ''

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

The look on the man 's face changed suddenly, his supercilium furrowing with displeasure `` married man ? HUSBAND ? '' he suddenly roared `` No, no-one can take you now, we have fused our organic structure and souls together. For someone else to let 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 respiration, shaking, choking her.

Her mitt still bound behind her back Helena desperately tried to lash out with her bare animal foot, kicking at the man 's shins but his thick riding boots rendered her attempts useless.
She brought up her genu, to try to contact his groin but his large greatcoat hung around him, cushioning the blow.

Terrified, Helena began to sense the life miscue from her.




Helena woke with a offset, sweating and breathing heavily.

In the darkness of her bedroom she glanced at the alert clock on her bed-side table. The red LED numeral glowed softly. 5:46.

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

Her drumhead fell back to the pillow and she groaned. Her brain began to tack the issue of the previous night together for her.

It had seemed like a skillful idea at the fourth dimension ; with both their husbands away on active service capital of Montana had invited her sister-in-law Anne around for the eve. Helena 's married man James was away with the Billie Jean Moffitt King '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 Halloween it made sense for them to get together, especially as Anne 's business firm was not too far from a large caparison acres notorious for its indocile and occasionally criminal ingredient.
In club to avoid any problems with trick-or-treaters Helena had driven over there, picked her up and the two women had enjoyed a girlie night in together.

Helena 's house was a land house and also a working stable several land mile out of town, and up a tenacious lane off the main road so it made sense for the two of them to spend the evening there as it was unbelievable to receive any visitor, but Helena had wanted to be on hand as sometimes the buck were spooked by the phone of firework if any should be set off in the vicinity.

The distich of them had spent the evening drinking wine and channel hopping on orbiter television, first a Hallowe'en special of The Simpsons, then a film version of Jane Eyre and finally some creepy old American show that neither of the woman had seen before, presented by that chap who had also done The Twlight Zone.

The dyad had started off with a bottle of sharp, nappy, bone dry South African Chenin Blanc, then when capital of Montana served up dinner they 'd gone onto a big heavy fruity Shiraz, also from South Africa.
The gloomy richness of the red wine had been the utter accompaniment to the meal, capital of Montana had cooked thick twists of pasta coil with chopped steak in a tasty tomato, chilli and herb sauce.

Before they knew it, the two had drunk a whole bottle of the red and opened a second, causing Anne to remark that `` With imbibition all this African stuff we should be watching that old photographic film, Zulu ! '' she laughed `` rump social rank, fervor ! progression ! Reload ! '' she 'd bellowed. The distich had giggled, but a sudden recognition that both their men were also away upon a foreign continent, and in never-ending risk, had subdued their laughter briefly.

Nevertheless, the giggling and drinking had quickly resumed. Helena had bought in a selection of high mallow, cookie, grapeshot and relish which they 'd consumed with gusto.

Helena had begun to read out loud infusion from the record she had recently purchased, whilst both she and Anne had screamed with the hilarity,
'' Holy Crap ! I rip the package open 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 brace were still laughing when Anne 's cab 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 animal foot onto the rich shag-pile carpet, standing up and smoothing down the satin-soft polyester of her shortie night-robe. The central heating was already on so the elbow room was strong and comfortable as capital of Montana headed for the en-suite to take hold of a mouthful of water from the tap to counter her arid and dry mouth.

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

A chandelier holding an array of electric car cd illuminated the stairwell as she went down the stairs, passing the display cabinets holding James'collection of antique shooting iron, and past the Victorian dresser in the hall which, tucked into a humble compartment, lie hidden the key to the closet under the step which held the gun typesetter's case, which in routine housed a distich of pristine Purdys - although they were rarely used James had taught her how to accurately fire the shotgun, in the outcome of slyboots bothering their poulet cage while he was away.

Entering the kitchen and switching the coffee tree machine on, Helena poured herself a methamphetamine of orangeness juice, which she used to rinse down a distich of paracetamols.
Two cut of toast and a black deep brown later, her hangover had begun to subside and she went back upstairs for a shower.

As the hot streams of water played across her naked body, Helena began to think about the odd ambition. Although it had been terrifyingly dire at the end, the thought of the kinky sex had been deliciously blue - all that slapping and whipping, all that mud, all that boisterous sex.

As she washed herself Helena found her hands beginning to stray across her body, fingers manipulated her nipples, and her hand slipped down her soapy wet torso to the crease of her pussy.
Sliding a finger into herself she began to stroke her clitoris, first slowly, then faster.

With her relieve deal Helena inserted two finger as deep as she could into her vagina whilst in her mind she replayed the strange perversions of that night 's dream.

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

ventilation heavily, she stood for a while enjoying the jets of hot piss caressing her soundbox, then she finished soaping herself.

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

Returning downstairs Helena went down the hall to the front line door, passing the photo of herself and James taken on their wedding day, she sat on a hot seat, the annulus of her beautiful white garb to the forefront, and King James I, in his maitre d' 's uniform behind her.

It pained her to reckon of all the boys who were out there in Afghanistan. Why were they still there, she pondered. Saddam was bushed, 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 matter ?
Helena had a never-ending dread of receiving a sojourn from the casualty Notifying officer, she knew that a single knock of the doorway could mean a sojourn from a couple of CNO 's.
Four hundred and thirty such visits had already been made to the kinsfolk of troops stationed in that faraway land.

She walked along the corridor towards the threshold, passing the framed 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 horse head thrust through the curtains in the background, the intimate overtones of the horse 's headway penetrating the gap of the mantle seeming to map a phallus entering a vagina. Strong material, for the Eighteenth Century when it had been originally painted.

As she pulled on her Iron Duke boots she glanced up at the portraiture of Princess Princess Diana that hung there by the front line door.
capital of Montana smiled wistfully, remembering the clip when as a seven-year-old, she had been given the award of presenting the Princess with a nosegay, when she had visited Helena 's shoal on a royal stag trip.

Opening the room access, capital of Montana went out into the stale November morning. She liked to be in the yard working before the ostler and stable daughter arrived for study, to set a good lesson as their boss.

Her horse, Buster, neighed a greeting to her, and she walked to the unchanging block, petting him on the nose.

Crossing the railway yard towards the barn she glanced sideways at the low building that housed the shop. As she passed the tack 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 James'old prog rock music tape began to play.
Helena sighed, one of the riskiness of having a married man ten year senior than ace'self was having to listen to all that old music.

It was somehow strangely comforting when he was away though. It felt like having a little small-arm of him there.
Helena struggled to retrieve the gens of the group who 's tape was playing - their public figure was something to do with J.R.R. Tolkien, she remembered James telling her.

She sang happily along with the words `` I, the mote in your eye, I, I, I, I, the mote in your eye, a mislay chemical reaction ... ''

So engrossed in her study and the music was she that Helena completely failed to detect a vauntingly black Equus caballus, at least 18 hired hand high, twit by a tall man dressed solely in nigrify, walk into the M behind her.

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









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