Date: Tue, 19 Oct 1999 10:27:04 -0600 From: Robyn Herrington Organization: University of Calgary Subject: [WRITERS] SUB: HALLOWEEN CONTEST: Dark Illusion One day left! Get your entries to me by midnight, October 20th! -- Robyn rmhe rrin@ucalgary.ca ------------------------------ Dark Illusion Exquisite. Purely and simply exquisite. He thought it quite possible that he'd finally stumbled into Paradise. A lifetime of aimless rambling had led him to this piss-scented hell-hole of a roadhouse on the outskirts of one more godforsaken Midwest town, and into the presence of the angel he'd been afraid existed only in his fantasies. And this one was more than an angel, far superior to those that had come before. He knew she was his own dark bride, his intended, at long last arrived. She paused momentarily at the entrance of the backwoods tavern, bathed in the crimson glow of the exit sign. Poised and self-assured in three-inch black patent heels, she was a vision in black. Blue-black silk encased her upper body, open at the throat to better display the creamy skin of her breasts, and tight sleeves buttoned around her delicately pale wrists. Buttery soft black leather hugged her narrow hips, ending just beneath the shelf of her curved buttocks, and filmy black stockings encased the curves of her calves. Shining coal black hair lay upon her shoulders and cascaded down her back. A slender, jet-tipped finger toyed absently with the curl nearest her cleavage. He'd abandoned himself to her sparkling ebony eyes at first glance. Her hips swayed slightly beneath the thin leather skirt as she glided through the dimly lit bar. As she neared, Rand's ragged breath caught in his dry throat, and he stood, stepping into her path. He extended his hand. "You were born to wear black." The words slid smoothly off his tongue, without a hint of mockery. "It's my favorite color." She gazed at him from beneath dusky, feathered lashes and laid her slender hand in his. Her moist scarlet lips glittered in the dim lights of the bar. "Buy me a drink?" He gestured to the empty stool beside him and watched appreciatively as she slid onto it. The hem of her skirt rose one delectable inch, affording him a brief glimpse of lace-topped stockings and a breath-taking promise of ivory thighs before she primly pulled it back into place. A dream come true. He sighed inaudibly and held up two fingers to the bartender. The drinks deposited in front of them, Rand leaned toward her, letting the tips of his fingers brush the nape of her neck through the veil of black hair. "Do you come here often?" She laughed at the weary old line, then quickly sobered, her eyes glazing over and drifting to some point to the left of his shoulder. "Too often," she said, her voice barely audible above the bass that thumped from over-sized speakers. She sipped from the heavy ice-filled bar glass, then licked her lips and smiled up at him. "I'm Gena." "Rand." He encased her delicate hand in his own once again, then lifted it to his lips. "I'm so very pleased to meet you." Rand looked into her dark, dark eyes, and was momentarily disconcerted by what he thought he saw. It was true that she wasn't like the others, he had seen it--known it--felt it-immediately. If she had been, she wouldn't have been "the" one. But still, he hadn't expected that ephemeral flicker of depravity in her dark eyes. He blinked, and it was gone, if it had ever been there, replaced by the predictable gaze of expectant adoration that they all eventually wore, no matter how blasi and jaded they initially pretended to be. His social grace and practiced sincerity ultimately won them all over, to their final and lasting regret. So, had it been wishful thinking, that glimmer of corruption in the depth of her eyes? he wondered. _Surely not,_ he scoffed to himself. More likely a reflection of one of the neon beer signs that hung over the bar. Breathing into Gena's ear, Rand excused himself and headed to the men's room at the back of the bar. As he passed through the pool room, his attention was momentarily captured by a thin-waisted bottle blonde in faded denim cut-offs. She grasped the pool cue she was holding in both hands and arched her back, jutting her jean-clad bottom in his direction. He felt a familiar stirring in his groin, but a quick glance back toward the bar reminded him that soon no other woman would be necessary. He had no further use for the inelegance of a common whore. His search was over, he had found his soul-mate tonight. Once in the small, dimly lit restroom, he entered one of the two stalls, wrinkling his aristocratic nose at the overpowering stench of urine, and locked the door behind him. A quick search of his jacket pockets located the small, clear plastic bullet filled with high-grade cocaine. All he needed tonight was two small blasts. His chance encounter with the love of his life had set his heart to racing on its own, as if he'd snorted an entire eight-ball. He sprinkled a bit of the white powder on his forefinger and rubbed it across his gums, savoring the immediate numbness as the stuff he'd snorted drained down the back of his throat. "Bring on the dental surgeon," he chuckled derisively. Rand swept out of the bathroom stall and did a quick nostril check in the smoke-filmed mirror that hung haphazardly over the rust-stained sink. _Looking good,_ he thought. _As usual._ It had taken him a few days to get used to his new look, but he knew it was a winner. Aqua contacts masked the run-of-the-mill brown eyes and he'd shorn his shoulder length brown hair to just a quarter of an inch all over his well-shaped head, then bleached it nearly white. In a few days the dark outgrowth would be noticeable, but that would be okay, too. By then he, and Gena, would be half a continent from this shit-kicking tavern and wouldn't that be fine? He thought it would. He stepped back into the smoke and music of the bar-room, his eyes immediately seeking his new-found love. She sat on the same barstool, legs crossed primly. Instead of waiting patiently for him to return, though, she was gazing raptly into the face of a biker looking dude. She held a drink in one hand (the drink Rand himself had bought her, no doubt), while she ran the narrow tip of her opposite forefinger around its edge. Rand couldn't hear what the biker was saying, but Gena's glittering eyes never left his face, and she grinned wickedly when the man traced a rough-skinned thumb across her silken knee. _So much for finding the love of my life,_ Rand thought. The blood rushed to Rand's head, then pound furiously in his chest. It wasn't the effect of the cocaine, he knew, but his incredible rage. Gena was no different from the rest, it seemed. He thought he'd finally found the woman of his dreams, the love of his life, and she was no different than any of those other sluts. _It never failed,_ he thought. Rand took a deep, shuddering breath, swallowing the wad of coke-laden snot at the back of his throat and contemplated going back into the john for another blast. No, he'd save it for later-it looked like he was going to need it. Gena glanced up as he neared, her dark eyes barely widening. The biker had turned and headed toward the bank of pool tables, and Gena cunningly ignored his departure. She certainly didn't seem uncomfortable that he'd caught her in what amounted to adultery. Grasping Rand's forearm, she pulled him nearer. "Come closer, lover." Her voice was silky smooth beneath the blare of the honky-tonk jukebox. "Why don't we get out of here?" Rand snorted and glanced toward the smoke-hazed pool tables. "What about your friend?" "I don't know what you're talking about." Gena's gaze didn't flicker from his face as her fingers slowly traced the hairs on his forearm. She was good, Rand would give her that much, but he knew exactly what kind of bitch she was. "Sure, " he said, forcing a grin. "Let's get the hell out of here." Might as well get this over with, he thought. So I can get out of this piss-waddle little town and find my true love. Arm in arm, they threaded their way toward the exit and out into the night. Once they reached the parking lot, Gena paused beneath the neon glow of the bar sign and pulled Rand around to face her. Their eyes locked and she brought her moist crimson lips to his. Her tongue flickered over his lips and teeth, and he found himself aroused against his will. Rand pulled away, uncertainty and doubt clouding his mind. He was losing control of the situation. He pulled away from Gena's embrace and turned his back to her, his counterfeit aqua blue eyes staring at nothing. Gena stepped nearer, her hands on his shoulders, her nails tracing the sides of his neck. She flicked her tongue along the nape of his neck. "How can I be sure you're the one?" His voice was nearly inaudible, and he fought the urge to turn and look into her eyes. "How do I know you're not like the rest?" Gena's narrow fingers caressed his cheek. "I've searched for you for so long. What if you're not the one?" Rand turned to face her. He'd never asked the others these questions, and couldn't believe he was asking them of Gena. Especially since he knew what she really was. The memory of the biker's greasy fingers on her knee flashed in his mind. "You know I exist," Gena laughed, the sound of broken beer bottles against a wall. Her dark eyes glittered. "I exist, and you want me. Isn't that enough, Rand?" Intense heat radiated off her and washed over him, despite the coolness of the evening. It felt good. Gena's hands snaked beneath his shirt and rested on his chest. He felt the thrum of blood beneath her fingertips. "It is enough, isn't it?" she breathed. "We were meant to be, Rand. I pray for you each night, the same way you've prayed for me. I am your intended." Rand gazed into the dark pools of her eyes and her voice became distant, overpowered by the thud of his own pulse in his ears, and the thrum of her blood in the tips of her fingers as she traced them over his rapidly cooling skin. Gena stepped closer, laid her lips against his cheek. "I'm your bride, Rand. Make me your wife." Rand shuddered and his flesh grew icy His strength and authority was being drained. Somehow, they'd moved from the parking lot in front of the bar to his van. The keys were in his hand, and his angel stood beside him in the darkness. He felt her pulse as her fingertips rested upon his neck. The ring of keys chattered in his fingers as he rushed to unlock the door. As soon as it was open, Gena's body fell against his and they tumbled into the van. He hurriedly pulled the door of the van shut behind them, before she could see the interior, then reached for her in the darkness. He'd nearly lost his self-restraint, but now that he was in his own territory, he was back in control. Rand pushed Gena back onto the upholstered cot that took up the rear of the van and ran his hands over her body. It was a shame that she'd turned out to be no different than the others, it would make him sad to do away with her. Gena was truly exquisite. Rand pulled the black silk blouse away from her skin and buried his face between her breasts. "I am yours, lover," she breathed. "And you are mine." Rand grabbed her face between his hands and covered her lips with his. He needed to shut her up, it was her voice that confused him, the words that she whispered. Gena's luscious lips consumed him, nibbling and chewing the flesh of his lips. Rand gagged and tried to pull away. The bitch had drawn blood! She flipped him over, she was stronger than he could have imagined. He lay flat on his back, too weak to move, and still her lips and teeth traveled over his face and neck. He felt the hot gout of blood as she sunk her teeth into his throat and his hand wavered weakly toward the wall of the van. _If I could just reach my tools,_ he thought. His chest was soaked with his own blood, hot and slippery, and still Gena kissed him. "I am your destiny, Rand," she said, leaning into to him, his blood dripping from her lips and teeth. "And you are mine." Her voice faded as oblivion overtook him. There would be no more for Rand. No more searching for the love of his life, and no more disappointment. Gena's exquisite face filled the last of his visions. His warm blood spilled from her fangs and onto the carpet of the van, mingling with the blood of those that had gone before. And he could only gaze at her and think, "Exquisite. Purely and simply exquisite." ---------- Headline on page one of the Dalton City Times-Press, November 1, 1999: "HAS THE RASH OF UNEXPLAINED MURDERS IN THE MIDWEST COME TO A CLOSE WITH THE DISCOVERY OF A KNOWN SERIAL KILLER'S BODY?" -- =====================***********======================= Robyn Herrington rmherrin@ucalgary.ca Editor: New Currents in Teaching and Learning/InfoServe University of Calgary Ph: 220-2561 Leadership lifts a person's vision to higher sites, raises a person's performance to higher standards, and builds a personality beyond its normal limitations - Peter Drucker =====================************======================