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Wednesday, 14 March 2012

Blood and roots

One thing that I've found out, painfully, is that there are very few who manage to exist on the periphery of what I shall henceforth call the otherworld, for very long. The curious detachment that most of these creatures display is very evident, almost all treat contemporary society with disdain and contempt and find little time for general rules, laws and etiquette that fetter and bind most of us. I think that this is perpetuated by the fact that most of the political and legal world has been infiltrated by members of the factions and sub-races that are the most militant.

Last summer I was on my way to help a few people in Manchester, that is to help them identify honest members of their enclave. I had managed to arrange a lift from Portsmouth to just outside Winchester, I won't say where, with the arrangement that Patrick would pick me up in the morning and take me to a station close to my final destination. I feel that it is fair to explain that it was more important that I leave Portsmouth quickly rather than Patrick's inability to drive me the full distance to a very real destination. I managed to hitch from Fareham to xxxxx, nearly cracked there. I was dropped off at a rather disappointing spot, a roundabout which very obviously was used as a dogging location. I walked the mile to the nearest village, a typical commuter belt community with BMW Q5's in every driveway and double extensions on eighteenth-century properties. I found my way to the pub, thankfully there was one and ordered a drink. As the middle-aged barmaid returned with my change I decided to chance my arm:

'Do you have any rooms for the night?' I asked very nonchalantly as I sipped my pint of cider.
'Nah love we're not an Inn, sorry.' WIth that she turned her attention to other punters and I was left slightly embarrassed and alone. The height of the bar-stool felt very isolating as I gulped my pint wondering where I would be able to spend the night. As if my thoughts were audible an answer was vocalised at my shoulder:

'Are you passing through?' The voice was female, very definitely female. I turned to see her. She was short definitely under five feet tall, very petite with shoulder length blonde hair. Her smile was wide and infectious drawing attention away from her tight top and very tight jeans (I did still notice though). As I may have mentioned previously I have managed to hone my ability to view auras to a fine point but in this instance a faint green glow permeated even my strongest filters.

'I am.' I answered, nervously.
'Where are you going to stay then?' she asked with a knowing smile. I shrugged.
'Buy me a drink and I'll let you stay at my parents guest house.' She responded turning her attention to the barmaid.

In no position to refuse I agreed and we spent they next hour and a half drinking and exchanging small talk. When it was time to leave she merely smacked her lips and turned her back on me, I followed feeling somewhat used. Focussing on her I could make out a deep green glow not unlike that I had experienced with a few friends back in Portsmouth, this gave me a naive warm glow, so I followed. I don't remember much until we reached the door of a small cottage at the edge of the village bordering a deep wood with many thick deciduous trees. I was very tired by now and as such, stupidly, questioned little. As my guide opened the door I realised that not only did I not know her name but I had no idea why I had accepted her offer. I mutely brushed past her into the entrance hall with no thought and was met by three very large, very masculine figures. I could not question their masculinity as the stood in a bare stone walled room completely naked, their skins were dirty and earthy and their hair matted and encrusted with loam, leaves and twigs. I felt a slight push from behind as my female guide encourage due to enter the house further, then a click as the door closed, then, well, then darkness.

I came to in darkness. Initially I imagined myself back on my couch in the shared flat back in Portsmouth but very quickly I realised I was spread eagled on a hard surface. Slowly and gently a dim green light grew and I began to discern a figure squatting beside me. As the glow intensified I began to make out my erstwhile female guide, she was naked and very close. I could make out a very distinctive earthy, female aroma, she sat back on her haunches and watched me with a faint smile.

'We have sex you know.' She stated simply.

I strained at my restraints, leather straps attached to metal spikes. I had very little scope to look around and the light emanating from my captor was very dim but I could make out the bones and not very far away a semi-rotted corpse. It appeared that I was in a cellar where one wall had been torn down and that area hastily excavated, I was staked out near a roughly hewn mud wall where a multitude of roots snaked and squirmed into the main cellar area. Some of the roots, I noticed, were entwined within the skeletons and cadaver. The green glow increased as my captor drew closer.

'We will consummate our passion when your blood feeds the soil,' she murmured huskily, shuffling closer, her female scent growing with her proximity.

As her outstretched hand almost touched my face a loud splintering grew in volume before morphing into a small explosion. For a few moments nothing happened, my captor seeming more amused than bemused, then a dark figure loomed behind the squatting naked woman the green glow slowly merging with yellow. As the glow grew in intensity and began to blind me I saw the green woman stand, then turn, then fall.

'What the fuck are you doing Tom?' The green/yellow glow swiftly diminished and almost vanished to leave a dull bright throb. As Patrick kneeled to release my bonds I can honestly say that I could not have been more pleased to see anyone in my life.

Pat had decided to take me to a bar in Richmond where a mutual friend was playing in a band and as such had turned up early. He has asked at the bar and had easily found the house described to him by the barmaid, evidently the young lady was well known for taking in stray men. As he led me from the potential house of pain I saw in the gloom the bodies of the three men who had lain in wait for me. Pat was well aware of the existence of those that fed off the land, their power was great but short lived after their sacrifices. He made me comfortable in the back seat of his ancient Volvo estate before returning to the cottage to consign the bodies to the cellar. The roots would soon consume their flesh he assured me as we sped up the M3 to a safer and more sociable location.

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