Remembering Acorns

Red Squirrel; Tamiasciurus hudsonicus

A Cold Day in Hell

A Cold Day in Hell; Full

A Cold Day in Hell; Crop

Lair of the Raker

Troy's eyes sprang open. It was not the guard who held him now. He'd known this, even in the confusion of his awakening, by the touch. He looked up into a pair of green eyes full of forever, of mystery; eyes like shallow sea water rocking over the fluorescent secrets of its depths. Troy took in the soft, dark hair, the lips, the satin skin, the absolute beauty of Anthony Pebbles.

"Try to get up," Anthony whispered. His words seemed far away, separate from the glorious greeting that danced within their eyes. The Unmarked had enchanted him even with his windows shuttered. Now he felt it back. Anthony felt a connection, a completeness that was theirs together and unconquerable between them. He longed to dive into the dark brown pools that drank his oceans green, to search the pupils for the stories inside.

"What is this?" Troy squawked and absently brushed his fingers across his throat. He tore his eyes away from the young man who held him and gaped at his surroundings. Rock walls towered above them, curving inward, disappearing into clouds that seemed both water and fire. Steam corkscrewed from glowing tunnels, each one red and sloping downward.

"It's bloody hell," Anthony answered. He followed Troy's gaze down the slope of rock, through the flame and the shimmering heat to the spider and the guard. They stood petrified, haplessly silent, voices crushed by the unfettered power of their wailing.

"They killed me," Troy said, somehow more as an acknowledgement of fact than a question. He turned to Anthony, searching, confident that in the grasp of the young man, he could withstand the truth.

"They tried to fuck you," Anthony said softly, eyes cast downward and shadowed as clouds would cloak the ocean's dazzle. "Death is their reward."

Anthony sensed a shift in the cavern, tiny and immense, like a fuse running out of its last second; the deepest, darkest terror on the head of a pin. His chest lurched inward and invisible flailing fingers skittered across his heart.

The scattered throng had somehow found order and stood in rows by mutant rank. Beastmen had reappeared and stationed themselves at the front, aglow with their master's power and authority, their great slithering cocks tumid in the heat.

All eyes were riveted to the undulant hole at the rear of the cavern, glistening eyeballs a wide, white floor for the demented dips and twirls of fear and awe, except for the Beastmen eyes where a lunatic pride waltzed as well.

Anthony turned, his eyes joining the others on the huge opening, pulsing like a molten stone anus. He felt awash in a slow motion body. The red world hurled itself at him, every detail pumped into him with startling clarity and force. He fought for control, reached deep inside for the strength to yank himself back. Troy stirred beneath him.

"Get up Troy," Anthony whispered and tugged hard, without looking down, at the young man's arm. His voice was harsh and desperate and he did not seem to realize that he had called Troy by his name.

Troy looked across the rock, along the frightened stares of the dripping creatures, through the feathery wet whisper of the whirling steam to the glowing wall at the back. The quavering portal was swollen, glistening wet, its smooth lips splayed wide.

"I know yours too," Troy said, terrified. His friend, his only link to anything halfway sane, was slipping away. He could feel it and it rattled up his spine as cold as death.

"What?" Anthony spat, his head whipping around, his dark hair throwing red-sparkled droplets. Troy cringed from the lust that rolled thickly within his eyes.

"It's Anthony," Troy said, "your name is Anthony."

Anthony flowed back clear as creek water. His wide eyes teared with confusion and sorrow, setting adrift any hope that was there, like a jury-rigged raft on a roiling sea. He glanced at his arm. The ring on his shoulder had faded to a dull yellow, an ugly skiff of dried up sunshine.

Troy struggled to his feet. Anthony shifted underneath his arm to help him stand. The young man's skin kissed his naked flank and his bare hip seemed to insinuate itself into Anthony's POD. The red lust frolicked again in his encased cock and balls but he clamped his jaw tight and quickly chased it away.

Anthony knew he'd fucked up, the penetrating sex made it perfectly clear. Upon finding Troy he'd fallen and soared all in one exquisite breath. His feelings had been like a golden beacon in the cavern, and the gloating Beastmen had pounced. They were stupid creatures, little more than mindless cocks, but they were Taken and their master saw through them. Anthony had not been so vulnerable since his time as an Unmarked.

"Can you walk?" Anthony asked. "We've got to hurry."

"If you give me a hand, I can walk," Troy answered, "but I'm fucking scared. What's happening Anthony? What's in the fucking hole?"

"He is," Anthony said, "the Raker who bares the bones from the inside."

excerpt from Fear Trap; © 2013

Chipper Chirpers

Black-capped Chickadee; Poecile atricapilla