![[special.png]] --- I shouldn’t have been there. So many bad stories start with that plain fact, and mine is no different—at least in that regard. But I was there, in that dim bar filled with clinking glasses and dull conversation and cigar smoke, and so was she. I was looking for a quick bite, and a drink (or two), after another long day in another new city. And she—now that I think about it—was looking for the same. I was seated at the bar (the best place for a meal for one), absorbed in murky half-thoughts as I nursed an overcooked cheeseburger and inhaled one neat whiskey after another. I could feel her eyes on me, even then, but I wrote it off as a case of mistaken identity. I stole glances at her between swigs, and one look at that beautiful face assured me that my own was not the object of her interest. After a few minutes of pretending to ignore her unhidden stare, she crossed the room, stopping at the bar and taking the stool next to me. Not knowing what to do, I continued to ignore her until—out of the corner of my eye—I was certain that she was looking right at me. I turned to her and at once beheld a portrait of beauty: her delicate hands, thin white fingers laced, propping up a perfect, youthful face framed by thick, glossy black locks. She smiled, flashing strong, straight white teeth. “I haven’t seen you around here before,” she almost cooed. “No,” I admitted. “I’m not from around here. Just passing through.” “Oh yeah? And what brings you through?” My thoughts were clouded, tongue thick in my mouth in the face of her pantherish good looks. “Business… or as much as I can get.” “Aw,” she sympathized, her big green eyes peering, clawing into mine. “It’s not easy for anyone these days.” I nodded in assent, turning back to my drink. As much as I wanted her eyes on me, on mine, I couldn’t bear her gaze, her beauty—it was like staring at the sun. “I’m sure you’re wondering what it is I want.” I shrugged, told her I guess I did. “Well, you look… familiar. Like I knew you once.” I laughed, assured her she didn’t. How can you be sure? She asked me. I’d remember a face like yours, I confessed. Her eyes flared. “Stop,” she flirted. “I’m nothing special.” The word was electric. _Special_. It had been kicking around my head for a long time now. It had caused so much heartache, so much torment. _Special_. I wanted it to be special. I’d given up on the reasons why long ago, but the need clung tight and every time I tried to free myself from it, to give myself away, I found I was unable to shake it—I still wanted it to be special. “You and I,” she started, pausing until I again looked at her, until her emerald eyes again held mine, and when they did, I could feel she knew I was lost in thought—maybe even what about. “We’re of the same mind, aren’t we?” She flashed another smile—innocent, impulsive. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” I couldn’t have argued, even if I wanted to—the spell had already taken hold. I agreed, settled my tab, and let her lead me just barely by the hand, her touch light as mist, into the crisp night outside. I looked at her and she at me: my face, I felt, a mixture of pleasure and puzzlement. “It’s okay,” she giggled, sensing my trepidation. “Why don’t we walk for a while?” I nodded silently and she smiled in return, taking her place beside me and wrapping her two arms around mine, briefly resting her rosy cheek on my shoulder. Feathered lashes fell like snow over her green eyes as she nuzzled in, and I felt a flash of panic that melted away the second they were lifted. She smelled like wood-smoke and sweat, sweet and strong and natural, and the word that plagued me—that these days I understood almost not at all—came again to my mind. _Special_. I watched the stars glitter, closed my eyes. Wasn’t this special? The thought came to me, the voice not my own. I felt her tug gently at my arm, looked down and found her gazing up at me, her eyes glittering like the stars above. “Come on,” she urged, a playful smile touching her fine lips. “Okay,” I all but whispered. The bloated, sprawling city that had just hours before ground me between its concrete teeth now shimmered like a dreamscape. We walked here and there, this stately creature clinging to my arm, guiding me like a leaf on the cool breeze, warm light from streetlamp and shopfront illuminating her moon-pale face that stared up at me with something like love in her deep eyes. I found my hand clasped over hers, as if to draw her closer still. She purred, closing her eyes again, breathing deeply of the sweet night air. Again, something like a winter chill struck me—a sense of something not right, some deep-seated unease—only to flutter away as her bewitching gaze returned. I attributed the sensation to my lack of success with women in general, and my discomfort with one so strangely attractive in particular, and it was immediately forgotten. “I want to take you somewhere,” she explained. “May I?” I nodded again, felt a smile on my own lips now. She was pleased with my answer and showed it by guiding my hand around her waist. The blood in my veins burned and I swallowed hard, felt the fire surge through every part of my body. She saw it, biting her full lip in response. “Okay,” she said simply. Running ahead, giggling as if to herself, she called me along. We wove through alleys and narrow side streets, one-ways and deserted avenues, all the while her childish laughter ringing like a bell in my ears. I was always one step behind her, her lithe frame ever just out of my desperate reach. I felt it welling from deep within me, the fire—the hunger, the lust. A small voice cautioned me, called me back, but I let the roar of blood in my ears drown it out. I was lost somewhere in the labyrinthine depths of this foreign city, though the fact gathered itself only barely at the back of my mind when she burst with unexpected swiftness from the alley we’d been navigating and into the black of an unlighted parking lot. I ran after her, stopping only when the darkness became too thick to see more than a few feet in front of me. I opened my mouth to call after her but stopped, my senses threatening to return as I realized that I didn’t know what I should say—I didn’t even know her name. “Hey,” her voice split the night, the trembling excitement in it only thinly concealed. “Over here.” I could hear the smile on her lips when at once an engine roared to life just ahead of me. Warm lights flicked on, and her supple body was silhouetted in two the ancient yellow beams as she walked toward me. Her hands found mine and lead me the short distance to an idling old Ford truck, gold in color. Get in, her eyes said, and I did. The soft orange glow of the cab lights illumined her face and the hunger that was written on it. Silently she put the truck into gear and we sped from the parking lot, its noisy V6 betraying our escape to the empty, lonely night. In no time the harsh glow that limned the city was invisible in the rearview, the moon just rising above the forest ridge that hemmed in the narrow highway we thundered down. By its light I could see the smile that she wore, how her white teeth glinted in its silvery rays, the way her delicate fingers gripped the steering wheel until her pale knuckles were whiter than snow. I asked her where we were going, but I already knew the answer—and she told me as much. She leaned over, one hand on the wheel, her hot breath on my neck as she confessed her need for me. I felt a thrill at her words, her closeness, and that same electric sensation that warmed my blood and urged me on danced throughout my burning body. After what felt like more miles than I could endure, the road forked and we took the left-hand path, where asphalt abruptly ended and gravel began. The way was rugged and potholed, though the condition didn’t stop her and she flew down it as fast as the old Ford’s stiff suspension would allow. Several more turns, and with each one that lingering sense of lostness swelled to the surface of my mind. At length, she took one hand off the wheel and placed it over mine, giving me a gentle smile. “Almost there,” she promised. I nodded, felt her eyes reassuring me, felt the heat from her soft, lily-white hand, but the flame that animated my desire guttered in the icy wind of dread. One last turn—left—into the forest and onto a narrow dirt road, consisting only of two tracks carved into the golden late-fall grass. It twisted, turned, and ended abruptly, depositing us before a dense wood into which a foot path continued on, stretching beyond the limits of the dim truck lights. “Almost there,” she repeated. She killed the engine, opened the door, and slipped out into the night, her glittering eyes bidding me to follow. I moved to do the same, but hesitated. “Wait,” I said, incredulous. “You really live out here? Alone?” She was looking away from me now, down the dark path. “Not alone,” Her voice was quiet, wistful, swallowed up by the forest. “My sisters and I.” “Sisters?” I repeated, my stomach suddenly tied in writhing knots. “Are they home now?” “Of course,” she answered, looking at me over her shoulder. A devilish grin crept across her face, her perfect teeth glinting like fangs in the light of the moon. “Don’t be afraid—they’re expecting us.” A gust of wind shook the trees, rattling their bare branches like bones and chilling me to mine as it tore through my thin jacket and thinner sweater. Before I could respond she was gone, her laughter dancing back to me from the blackness of the path ahead. I swore under my breath, ran my hands through my hair, wiped the cold sweat they found on my slacks. I looked back at the truck, knowing there really was no back—only here, and forward. “Don’t keep me waiting,” her voice came to me on another gust. “It’s getting cold out.” I began down the path, noting as I did how the white light of the night magnified every tree that shot up from the black earth, casting them in sharp relief and making each one stark and real and knowable. The frosty ground crunched beneath my determined feet, and the forest exhaled in hypnotic union, its breath at my back, pushing me ever forward and deeper into itself. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” I rounded a bend and found her standing in a small glade, stately face upturned at the moon, eyes sparkling like gems. “Yeah,” I whispered; only I wasn’t looking at the moon, but the way its cold rays illuminated her face, and in that moment I could no longer believe that they were simply a reflection of the sun. It was so different, that night—and every night since. And the way her face shone like a silver beam in its light was something different still. Her green eyes flashed as they fell on me. “Not me, silly,” she giggled modestly, lifting one elegant finger to the pale orb that hung in the night sky, tracing strange shapes across its face. “Her.” We stood together in silence, gazes aloft, bathed in “Her” light, arms wrapped lovingly around each other’s waist. Mist poured from between her lips with every exhale—far more than my own breath, I noticed—and it danced like smoke through the night sky. Again, she rested her head on my shoulder, and again I inhaled the intoxicating scent of this forest woman’s body: sweat, fire, and in the clean air of the wood, something else, but what… I couldn’t say. She turned her head, looked up the path. “There,” she nodded, looking back at me. “My sisters are waiting.” I strained my eyes and looked ahead, peering through the dense trees where I spotted a small yellow glow. At once I smelled the smoke of a wood fire and it warmed me, strengthened me against the cold and my own uneasiness. I felt invigorated, the fire inside stoked anew. “Let’s not keep them,” I insisted, offering her my most confident grin. She took my face in her hands and pulled my lips to hers, kissing me deeply, drenching my body in her electric caress. Taking me by the hand, we swiftly navigated the remaining twists and turns of the trail, stopping finally to behold her dwelling by the light of the moon. I’m not sure what I expected up to that point, but it wasn’t what lay before me: a stone cottage, something like you’d see in a Kinkade. Thick moss crept up its stony base and bare ivy vines stretched languidly over its smooth surface. Its steep-pitched roof was adorned by wooden shingles—also covered in a dense layer of moss—and a warm fire-glow emanated from the age-fogged glass windows that studded its face. Shadows danced within. She led me wordlessly up the stone steps and as we came upon the door, I heard singing within—bright and mirthful tunes, but in a language completely foreign to my ears. She placed one delicate hand on the bronzed latch and pushed, the heavy wooden door swinging, creaking opened slowly. “I’m home,” she sung. “And I’ve brought a friend.” Her announcement met three figures, cloaked in black robes that while loose and flowing could scarcely conceal the feminine curves beneath. They stood hand in hand—backs to the door, faces to the large stone hearth from which a crackling fire exuded heat and light. They turned simultaneously to us, and though they were partially obscured by the shadows that swirled throughout the room, their comeliness was enough to illuminate the night. Three pairs of green eyes glittered at me, each set in a visage as fine as the next—flawless, porcelain skin; full, red lips; shapely, delicate features, each framed in by raven-black locks: two of them wound in tight, elegant curls; one thick and wavy as water rushing over benighted falls. I confess that at this sight, all modesty, all hesitation, fled from me—I was possessed by a lust that was boundless and insatiable, my throat dry with a thirst that could not be slaked even by all the crystal waters of every well upon the earth. The figures swept gracefully toward us, their scent carried on the wind of their bodies—first to my nose, then to my head, and an intoxicated smile crept across my face. “My sisters,” she said to me by way of introduction as they each laid their hands upon my body: one stripping away my jacket, the others stroking my hair, my face, my chest. They walked in a circle about me, appraising me with enchanting grins and tinkling laughter, talking amongst themselves in that secret tongue. “They like you,” she pronounced finally. “I like you, too.” One spoke—the one whose hair was like waves on the ocean of night—a short, curt command, and the three, in obvious deference to her, took me by my hands and led me the short distance to a chaise, draped in furs and blankets, beside the flickering hearth. “She says that we must not wait,” came the velvet voice in my ear, interpreting the enigmatic order. My eyes traced dazedly over room until they met hers, emerald pools shimmering wickedly in the firelight. “That we should begin at once.” I stared at her face, cataloging in my mind every beautiful feature, desperate to keep the portrait for as long as I lived, until I was struck with a sudden sadness. It dawned fully on me, all at once, exactly what was happening, and I realized in that moment that I wanted her—and her alone. I didn’t want to share her, my girl. And then I felt it welling inside me: hesitation, that reluctance that I could never cast off, the compulsion that it be special. But I breathed deeply of that perfumed air and the smell of sweat and hot breath and that something else and clung instead tightly to her satin hand. “Yes,” I agreed, and then, as much to myself as to her: “No more waiting.” She smiled with her eyes, and I again felt that she knew more than she should. “Sit.” Her sisters swirled like smoke around me, chittering, soft and gentle, in their Delphian way. I did as she bade, sitting upon the chaise as their deft hands slipped off first my sweater, then unbuttoned and removed my undershirt. Sweet smiles revealed their girlish pleasure at the sight, but their eyes were hungry and glittering like she-wolves. “Good,” my girl encouraged. “Now lay.” Again, I complied, making myself comfortable among the furs, intoxicated by the heat and scent and the four pairs of silky hands caressing my bare flesh. I closed my eyes and drank it in, felt a body atop mine, thick locks on my face, the heat of lips close to my own. I opened my eyes again and gazed deeply into my girl’s: fairy wells of charm and allure… and secrets. I saw them in that moment, secrets—and lies too—darting like minnows beneath their surface. I was suddenly sobered and blinked the spell away, searched her face and found sorrow on her lips. “Sorry,” they whispered, and at once icy fingers seized my soul. I moved to rise but one sister was at each hand and another at my feet—I fought their iron grasp but was easily subdued by their terrible strength, and they made fast some kind of heavy shackles onto my wrists. I wrenched and wrestled against my restraints as the warm laughter that once rang like bells in my ears was now cold and sharp as steel. She was still on top of me, my girl, anguish still writ on her face, when I opened my mouth to plead for mercy. Before I could utter a syllable, the elder sister—or so I now figured her, for they were all equally nubile—barked a command and my power of speech was at once constrained. “Wait,” my girl begged of me, her voice but a murmur, soft and penitent and earnest. “Save your strength.” I felt compelled again to obey every word that passed those red lips, but I was seized by panic and thrashed against even my own will. Her eyes grew misty, I’m certain, before she was urged off me by her elder sister, who then took her place. Wherein I once saw the eyes of a human, I saw none now—these were electric and fierce, green not as of a forest but rather some great beast that prowled it, ceaseless in its lust for blood to lap and death to deal. Her face, I noticed then, was indeed bestial, and behind the fine lips that curled into an evil smirk were flashing fangs, white as bone. And from those sumptuous lips shewed forth all manner of curses issued in that dewy foreign speech, which had now taken on a black and forbidden aspect. I could not avert my eyes from hers as the remnants of her beauty sloughed away like melted flesh, leaving a shrieking, wrinkled hag astride my half-naked body. Her legs clinched my torso with horrible power, her withered skin as cold as the grave. The icy winds of winter blew from her opened mouth until the cabin too melted away: the fire becoming ash, the hearth dust, leaving nothing but a cold stone altar beneath me and the bare trees about me, jutting like gnarled fingers into the black sky, bearing silent witness to this devilish ritual. The stars twinkled indifferently, tangled like an infernal crown in the wild mat of black hair that loomed in triumph over me, darker even than the night sky. Her glowing eyes laughed into mine with all the cruelty of hell as I saw, from the corner of my captive eye, her extended hand receive a wicked blade that glinted icily in the frigid light of the moon. Taking it in her two hands she wielded it over her head, poised to plunge it into my bared breast. I tried to shout, but not even a whisper escaped my mouth; tried to shut my eyes, but they were frozen wide; and then I felt it. Surging from that same wellspring as my hesitancy, my anxiety, my compulsion, came a desperate strength that burned like fire in my veins and in one mighty push, I heaved my body forward and against the chains that bound me. For a single appalling instant as I met the end of my restraints, my heart dropped when they snapped taught against me; but to my amazement, they gave way and I felt the ancient irons crumble under the force of my lunge. I watched the shriveled face above me twist in confused fury, teeth gnashing behind black and spittle-flecked lips. In my wild charge I careened forward, crashing into her bodily, and though she looked like a wilted hag her frame was hard as stone. My head swooned from the impact, sparks danced before my blackened vision; my ears, my head, was filled with a furious howling, but I felt myself rise mechanically to my feet and, one blind step after the other, plunge into the dark wood. My sight returned at some point as I staggered through the forest, though as I recall it now only snatches remain: the bony trees disappearing into the black sky; the bare branches, clawing and tearing at my exposed skin; the frosty ground crunching beneath my feet, betraying my flight; the ghastly howling, carried by the whipping wind but growing more distant with every passing second; and above it all, the white eye of the moon gazing solemnly down. After running without stopping for how long I can’t say, I finally burst from the trees and onto a gravel road. I shielded my eyes against the light of two white orbs as they overtook me with a roar, leaving two glowing red rings in their wake. My swimming head was for a moment buoyed by the sound of tires skidding on gravel, then the shrill beeping of a backup alarm. As the truck drew nearer, I saw, drenched in the blood-red glow of its brake lights, a steel cross in its bed and plastered over its rust-flecked bumper the words “Save Gas, Walk With Jesus”. The truck pulled alongside me and with an electric hum, lowered the passenger window. “What in the hell… are you alright, man?” A light flickered on inside the cab, revealing a middle-aged man with a strawberry blonde goatee and a red hat that read “D’s Towing”. I tried to respond but still no words came forth—I wondered then, even in my delirium, if I would ever speak again. We stared at each other and I felt the warm blood oozing down my face, my arms, my chest, against the chill night air. Finally, he scrambled from the truck and approached me carefully, opening the door and urging me inside. “Hey, you gotta get in—I gotta take you to a hospital!” We rode in silence for a while, with D (he introduced himself as D, pointing proudly to his hat) asking intermittently how I was holding up. At his third inquiry, I felt my voice return like a catch in my throat and I told him fine—and despite it all, that was very much the truth. “Good,” he replied, and then after a pause: “I tell ya, you are one lucky son of a bitch.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh yeah?” “Yeah,” he continued. “If I hadn’t gotten that bogus call, you’d have been walking your ass back to town.” “Bogus call?” “Some lady. Said her truck broke down about ten miles up the road I found you on. *Old Ford*, she said. *Gold. You’ll know it when you see it*.” --- **THE END**