Someone had told him about witches once when he was a boy. But he had laughed. Those were just fairy tales. Not anything real.
This Halloween party was boring him to death. The boredom was palpable.
That’s when he saw her in the corner. Black heels, a tight fishnet dress with sleeves fanning out over her wrists. She had a drink in her hand. He liked the way she looked at him-the way she smiled just as she slipped out of the room into the library.
He followed her.
Someone told him once about ghosts. But he didn’t believe in things like that. They weren’t real. They were just stories we tell.
There was a conversation once about sex, but he couldn’t remember it. A science experiment, rats being electrocuted on a treadmill but followed by an orgasm. They kept going until they died. He couldn’t remember the details.
The library was empty. Her glass was on the floor. The door was open. He walked out into the darkness. Her shoes were cast off on the path. The cold darkness was something he couldn’t feel. She was just ahead of him. Slowly undressing leaving a new article of clothing on the path.
His head was pounding…he was burning up.
It seemed as though shadows ran past him. Screams in the trees. Pitched echoes and whispers beside him, followed by laughing.
She was standing there in the middle of the path. Waiting.
She turned her back to him, giving him her neck, he smelled her hair. Just the slip of her dress left cast on the ground. She took his hands and pulled them around her. She was completely naked. And warm.
His hands were shaking as he touched her.
Everything was so heavy and blurred.
All of the voices.
He touched her.
All of the voices came together. Right there before him. From her.
The dead girl in his arms. Blood warm. Her dress torn from her, left hanging by fragments. Her feet bleeding from running barefoot.
There was only darkness. Only cold. Only silence.
Turning back to the house. A white shirt in plastic was hanging from a tree. He took it. Changing quickly as he walked. Followed by a suit jacket.
Someone told him once about vampires. But he knew, they were just the dead. The real demons were the living. Hunting for sex, for power, seeing everything as an invitation.
Last- a pair of shoes on the well. He slipped them on and dropped his dirty pair into the dark water. He stepped back into the library. Picking up the drink from the floor, he closed the door.
“Great party!” Someone said.
He turned around, smiling and raised his glass. He nodded to his guests.