Thursday, 29 May 2014

The Hunt extract from City Noir. Erotic Horror Verse novel. James WF Roberts


WARNING: EXTREME GRAPHIC CONTENT SEX AND VIOLENCE.
 
The Hunt

Fitzroy. 45 minutes later.

 

She doesn’t see you there. Hiding in the shadows.

Did anyone see you when you pulled into the street.

Suburban park, playground 'round two in the morning

perfect little spot to hide—tonight

too bad the Hunter must only stalk at night

 all those fresh, innocent, pure

children are climbing Monkey Bars and running up and down

the slides.

 

Hiding in this park.

Hidden by the thick dark leaves of ancient gum trees.

The north side of the park is shrouded by

the gloom of the early evening sky and blinking street lamps.

 

Frostily the wind blows through the trees,

shaking branches and the leaves. That melancholic

creaking, the howling these old gums make from the start

of a storm to the end of it, is making you smile.

 

Pretty soon these beautiful trees will be gone, torn

down, raped and pillaged for more houses. More and more

people, less and less land.

More victims, less hunting grounds.

 

Can you see her? She is coming towards you now.

Can you see her? Can you see her shoes…keep them.

Only them.

 

 jellybean red shoes; that seem almost moulded to her feet,

following the contours of her

feet, her delicate and still forming bones.

“Bright pink toe nails are signalling to you

how sweet they would taste in your mouth.

Perhaps we shall share them”

 

 

shoes  clicking on the pavement, the hair on your

neck, is standing on end.

 

Her beguiling, bewitching shoes that she is too

young to be wearing are calling out for you.

They’re singing to you a Siren’s song;

 ‘Come get me! Come get me! Cut me! Fuck me!

Love me, darling dark stranger!’

 

 

In the shadows you are watching those clicking heels.

Just follow those spaghetti straps.

Can you see how they are cutting,

pinching into her sweet ankles and

into her feet.

 

Just watch those shoes. Those heels are you watching while those shoes.

 

“Fuck! I can feel your hormones from here...slow deep breaths”.

 

Her shins are starting to turn purply blue from the strain of the leather straps and the shoes. 

 

She can’t see you yet.

She has never noticed you, has she?

Your crisp and neatly pressed Blue uniform

makes you look so hot, she’ll be gagging for it.

 

Hair the right length, your complexion sickly brown, the

tan not of a solarium or a sun lamp but someone sitting

in their car all day and night.

 

Your breath is of bad coffee, stale cigarettes and

mothballs.

 

 

 Her beguiling, bewitching shoes that she is too

young to be wearing are calling out for you.

 

They’re singing to you a Siren’s song; ‘Come get me!

Come get me! Cut me! Fuck me! Love me, darling dark stranger!’

 

In the shadows you are watching those clicking heels

 

  follow those spaghetti straps.

They're cutting, pinching into her sweet ankles, into her feet.

What will she taste like?

 

Just watch those shoes.

those heels are you watching while those shoes.

her shins are starting to turn purply blue

from the strain of the leather straps and the shoes. 

She can’t see you yet.

 

She has never noticed you, has she?

Never really noticed you...

 

Your crisp and neatly pressed Blue uniform

makes you look so hot, she’ll be gagging for it.

Hair the right length, your complexion sickly brown, the

tan not of a solarium or a sun lamp but someone sitting

in their car all day and night.

 

                                Your wedding ring is shining brightly tonight,

that’s it flick it twice with your fingers for luck.

Perfection ruse to gain instant trust. Kind eyes and an old wedding ring.

                Just follow your shoes. She’s wearing your shoes.

                               

they click hypnotically, seductively into the scarred

chipped concrete pavement that so many kids and

hoods have autographed while it was still alive.

 

But now as she, your prey tramples along the

pavement, the bitter sweetness of irony makes you smile.

Nails—fuck finger nails will give you away!

No, it’s all good they’re cut short, spotless and clean just like

the rest of you.

 

Tonight you are married.

Fuck these props almost always pay for themselves.

Your disguise is perfect. Everywhere you go you’re never noticed. 

does that upset you ever?

 

How could someone as powerful, as great as you never, ever get noticed by anyone?

 

Concentrate—concentrate—soon, soon her flesh will be inside you.

Soon, soon her blood will sustain us.

 

Today on her way into the city, when she was

skipping school at lunchtime, you were behind her.

She looked at you and smiled. Her seductive come hither look.

You wanted her then and there.

 Didn’t she just want you as well.

She knew the effect she had on you.

 

You’ve been following her , for how long now? In the

darkness you have watched her bathe, shower, dress,

eat, talk on her mobile phone—you have watched her while

she is naked. Masturbating fucking around with her school

mates and you so wanted to join in didn’t you…

 

That ring looks great on you it suits you just for

these types of occasions now what will we kill her with

hands, blade, gun or garrotte?

 

She's been a bad, bad girl. She snuck out tonight, what a bad, bad girl.

She snuck out tonight—what a bad—bad girl…

Dark haired beauty, with those big green eyes,

olive skin, those delicious tits, riding high—

jutting out a little too much, from every top she ever wears

 

she's a sympton of the modern disgrace

everything about this fifteen year old girl, screamed out

Cut me. Kill me. Fuck me. Eat me. Drink me...

Fuck me hard, fuck me now…take me. Burn me.

She sees your car, she wants a ride. smiling right at you.

 

She recognises you and smiles.

She walks over, sizing you up.

Can she trust you…don’t approach her…

let her approach you!

 

“Heya, howz it goin?”

 

“I’m fine...a little late for you to be out and about, don’t you think—are you okay darlin’?”

 

Good! Good! She doesn’t suspect a thing yet…just wait for it…wait for the moment to come, the moment of truth…

 

 

“Yeah, fine just need some space you know how it is…Olds always on mah fucken case!

Can’t do single fucken thing right…y’know what I mean…?”

 

“There used to be a slogan, I read once, it was around in the sixties I think, um I think it was don’t

 

trust anyone over thirty...”

 

“Yeah—sounds about right! I know you don’t I?”

               

“Um Yeah…you do. I gave you a ride home last week, sometime I think!”

 

                She’s blushing, that’s good. She remembers you now,  driving her home in the pissing rain. Stoned and in the back seat, her legs wide, her dress riding up on every sharp corner you took.Flop it now! Take it out see if she’s put it in her mouth.

 

You take out the leather pouch, your Ganga, your papers and your lighter.

 

See how she doesn’t care how you start to roll a Joint.

She smiles and jumps up on the bonnet of your work car.

Her school dress is riding high up her thighs.

Can you see her black lace panties.

 Mmmm creamy white thighs, basking in the moonlight.

You need her now.

You need to taste her don’t you? You have to wait.

Just a few more minutes and then she is yours.

She smiles, she doesn’t care.

Or doesn’t notice, she doesn’t mind doing pot with an Old.

 

You put the stash in the paper and offer it to her.

She doesn’t adjust herself as her school dress is still proudly riding high. She takes the papers, begins to roll.

 

You can’t help but stare as she begins to lick the papers.

 

Her tongue, just watch her tongue smooth out the paper and just lips the stash,

God are you feeling it now?

 

Can you feel the power surging. You light her joint. 

She doesn’t seem to notice the Liquid Fantasy on the end of the joint.

 

Little whore is about to be no more—mmm.

 

Your hands are in her panties as she begins to trip out.

 

She moans and whimpers, “Fuck that feels so good”.

 

She opens her legs, just a little further…

the slut is going to get it now!

She is so wet can you feel it—that’s it dip your fingers in to her sweet little pussy.

 

She grabs your fingers and starts to suck her own juices off them. She’s primed. She’s ready.

 

You start to finger fuck her a little more.

She opens her legs more and you place your tongue on her clitoris.

 

She is moaning louder and louder. She wants it bad now! 

You bite her clit.

She screams as your tongue and mouth are filled with vaginal juices and hot sticky blood. You reach into your pocket.

 

Take out the knife.

 

* * *

 

She didn’t struggle. She didn’t even know what you did to her.

Not until the final blow. What were her large eyes telling you as her gagged

bounded, broken was going its death throws.

 

                What was it fear? Acceptance? Or was it why?

 

                                Why Me? Why me?

 

 

 

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