Silent screams

Once again, pay attention to warnings. Abusive ghosts not your thing, then don't read. This is not a happy ending story. You've been warned.

If this is a dream, please wake me up!

Let's start this by stating my mother says my house is weird. You won't ever hear her say 'haunted', just plain old weird as if naming it so, would make it less real. My house sat at the end of a once lively neighborhood. The economy had hit us as hard as the rest of the suburbs, but it seemed that in this particular street a new 'vacant' sign sprouted overnight. It gave the whole area a void, haunted but waiting feel that turned prospective buyers away. Sometimes I hated this neighborhood more than my house and that was saying much.

I know she really thinks it's haunted because everytime she stays home alone, she turns on her TV and prays like the staunch protestant she is. At the rare occasion I stay later than promised, she is there to welcome me with the scolding of a century. Needless to say my social life is non-existent, so let's not talk about an actual sex life. After a long time badgering her hardy soul, I finally got her to explain why she's been particularly insistent lately on my not leaving her alone in the house. The tale she tells me makes me remember my own experiences. She states that she keeps hearing sounds when there should be none. She hears footsteps coming and going from my room whenever I am not in. It's gotten bad enough, she doesn't investigate anymore and just pretends to be deaf until I return and tell her I'm in.

The few friends I've made so far unfailingly tell me that my house has 'things' for lack of a better word. One of them had the fan turned off while he slept beside his girlfriend one of the times they stayed in our guest room. Yet another heard something walking behind him as he approached my room. I have been unwilling witness to lucid dreaming while in my living room. Yet, my best friend's girlfriend denies everything. Only the most staunch non-believer or the most foolhardy would dare to deny the things that have happened and chalks it all up to her boyfriend's hysterical imaginings.

Anyway, after establishing this place's weird, I must also tell what I've seen. This is my weak attempt at coping, to try and tame that which haunts me after years of psychotherapy and countless bottles of antidepressants. No, I am most definitively not crazy. I have tried to kill myself countless times and some disapprove. Still, I dare anyone to go through what I did and not try to forget permanently.

I have always been sensitive to the 'other side'. Nobody in my family would dare to deny this as most have been warned repeatedly. Some have ignored my words while others acted upon them. They make or break their own future. I do not interfere further. I have accomplished my part because I gave them fair warning. Shame that I never learned to pay heed to my own warnings!

My cousin Windy was young, foolish and hated me with a passion. She was sent to stay with my widowed mother and I after her own mother ran afoul of her current man and his roaming ways. I was given the impression that she was the reason something happened but this was never confirmed. I knew she was trouble as soon as I laid eyes on her.

At 16, she was beautiful and shapely like her mother, Jane. Her long brown hair curled attractively around her oval-shaped face, bringing out her stale grey eyes. She knew she was beautiful and sexy; by contrast had the complexion of a candlestick, the social skills of a caveman and the friendliness of a bullterrier. In short, I was barely 21 but to her I belonged to a dinosaur exhibit same as my 43 yrs old mother. The way she dressed rarely left much to the imagination which drove my overzealously religious mother batty. Hers was the usual story of unplanned teen pregnancy. My good-for-nothing father had gotten her pregnant and then was shipped out on the next plane to USA. My mother's overly religious family gave her hell for being so stupid before settling the full responsibility of her mistake squarely on her shoulders. She'd given birth to me 9 months later, while studying part-time and working full-time to support us. Being young and scared, religion was her salvation, converting into Protestantism was her only act of rebellion against her prudish family.

"I've got to clean up my act, Myriam. It's only for a short time, so please take care of Windy." She'd told my mother when she brought Windy. I was eavesdropping by the stairs. Mom put a stop to that when she called my name and told me to go pour some coffee. Her brown eyes darkened with grief because she knew without being told that we would not see her again. They spoke long into the night and I heard my mother cry softly after she left. Whatever aunt Jane had told her broke her heart.

After a rocky start when she butted heads with both my mother and I, Windy quickly threw her whole self into making new friends. A few weeks into her extended stay, she became truly popular with the wrong kind of people. She loved to stay out until dawn, hanging out with her new friends. My mother went to pick her up many times. Unfailingly she would find her drunk, being pawed by different guys and smoking pot by a tall avocado tree that flanked the old dirt road near the house. After a while, even my staunch protestant mother got fed up with her libertine ways and let her be. It seemed Windy also hated to be inside the house although I never told her anything about the weird going-ons we had to endure.

I was aware that what remained of our once proud neighborhood was leery of my own pale and forbidding appearance although I had yet to do them any harm. Still, given her pretty and friendly attitude, she was favored by them.

I must explain that the area where my neighborhood now sits was once a thriving sugar-cane plantation. As it usually happens when something is doing well, jealousy and rivalry pulled the giant to the ground and ripped it open for the crows to feed from. The ramshackled buildings lay empty and echoing. Aching with barely contained hunger for the bustling activity of harvest; missing the friendly shouts, sweating bodies and unending patter of man and beast working together.

By mid 1930's, the plantation was divided in half by a two-lane road connecting the eastern part of the island to the capital. This road used to cross by my backyard on a straight line down the road. It seems this road was used by a man working as cabbie to kidnap and kill women using his services alone. The last two victims, a mother and daughter, had been key in bringing him to justice. But to this day nobody knew of his other victims. I knew this because I'd researched feverishly at the library after a terrifying incident when I was 15.

It was early evening and I was home alone doing the dishes. I hated this chore but it was my assigned task for the night. Mother never complained when I did what she wanted and I found I preferred to keep her happy. The kitchen sink oversaw the backyard and I loved to look outside through the windows. That night though, the curtains were drawn and I was about to open them when I over-heard what sounded like a woman screaming. I frowned and cocked my head, sure I had listened wrong. The scream came again, shrill, desperate and running towards the house. Instinct made me jump to the door's dead bolt to secure it.

'Who can be running on my backyard? What's wrong?' The woman ran in ever tightening circles as if struggling with chest deep vegetation. It sounded like someone bigger and heavier was after her. Folks, my backyard is fenced in and the lawn was recently mowed. I was not sure what I was hearing but I thought 'someone is getting killed!' Instinct kicked in, making me secure doors and windows. I was not watching nor allowing anything to come inside. I turned off the lights and waited. Needless to say, I was really scared, listening to the lighter steps run faster, her breathing difficult with fright. There was a second panting breath, one that did not make a sound as it ran. Somehow, I knew it was a male and female. I whimpered when I heard her tumble and fall, her screams cut off mid-breath followed by a harsh grunt and more vegetation getting trampled. It felt as if she was being dragged.

Shortly after it stopped. I thought I was the only unwitting witness. I was unsure what to do, so I went outside in search for my mother, I didn't know what to do. I was greatly surprised when I saw all my neighbors were outside. Some wore their housecoats while others were in their undershirts but all were armed and trying to find the source of the screams. I told them what I heard and they got into my backyard. Light flooded the patio, pushing away the shadows as they held their bats at the ready, but it was empty. There was no trace of the violence we'd heard, there was no blood or body. Thus they thought me a liar.

Now back to sweet little Windy, the bane of our existence. She insisted in calling me a fag when we crossed paths outside the house. Why? Well, I was currently ignoring her. A grown man and a teen was not a good idea. I was happy with my life as it was. I did not need her claws sinking in my gut. I knew what she wanted and why. I was not going to bend to her will.

After the first month, she started to appear wearing flimsy clothing all over the place. She waited until mother was outside the house and attack. I would cover her up and guide her to the stairwell like a recalcitrant child and she'd pout. After a bit, she upped the ante and ambushed me on the hallway. She'd looked at me with knowing eyes before dropping her towel and exposing her naked flesh to my astounded eyes. I blushed, turned tail and ran.

Her laughter echoed inside my head. I never touched her nor would I ever. Other than my own voice, I was sure to get a bug from her oversexed cunt. She was a firm believer of spreading the love. Surely, I was the only male in the neighborhood that had yet to sample her ample charms and I planned on keeping things that way.

That night Windy was out same as my mother. The night was unusually cool, probably somewhere in the high 60's or low 70's. Which for our normal Caribbean temperatures was positively freezing. I chose to stay at home, tired of shivering in the cold. At this time of the year, the celebration to honor the city's Patron Saint was all out. The neighborhood felt even more desolate and empty with all the partygoers dancing the night away downtown. I experienced a weird sense of déjà vu as I once again heard a shrill female scream followed by heavy male footsteps, lighter ones first and heavier ones in hot pursuit. This time, though, I heard the metallic ring of our chain link fence as something jumped over it.

'What?' I waited after turning on the lights. A familiar voice screamed my name before slamming against the backdoor.

'Windy?' My heart stilled and my palms sweated crazily.

"Please... David! Help me!" she struggled and ran to the other side of the darkened backyard. Her anguished screams jolted me into action. I don't know what I was planning on doing but I had to intervene. Acting on impulse, I struggled with the deadbolt but it wouldn't give! A couple of seconds flew by before I was able to turn it but still the door seemed stuck. I was afraid to think as I rammed my shoulder against the stubborn door, stupidly thinking of saving her from her attacker. She screamed and I felt the door give. I rushed outside, falling on my face. She mewled, sobbing somewhere to my left and up. I searched in the twilight for her assailant but only saw her. I rose to my feet unsteadily but my body was rooted in place, taken by the spectacle before my eyes.

A pale body struggled sluggishly, floating effortlessly by my mother's priced bushes. Slate gray eyes turned my way, begging silently as tears ran down her grubby cheeks. Her legs were spread-eagled and her sex exposed in a parody of sex. Her skirt and blouse were torn into shreds, bloodied and muddy. It was obvious given the multiple scratches and bruises visible on her arms and legs that she had fought to defend herself to no avail. She'd been taken continually for the better part of the evening.

From his vantage point, he could see the shapely curve of her ass and the deep bruised vee of her cunt. The lacy white g-string that hung askew from around her right knee was a sharp contrast to her bloodied thighs. Her arms were twisted over her head as if held by an invisible arm. Her cheeks bulged as she choked on air, her round breasts and pale neck showed a smattering of finger-shaped bruises that shouldn't be there. Her neck arched as something rammed once more inside her cunt. I shivered before cursing my stupidity, for I knew I would regret my actions later.

"Hey! Stop that, you bastard!" I shouted stupidly. The punishing pace jabbing her cunt stopped. With disbelief, I watched her swollen pussy lips slide shut as if whatever it was that was fucking her with gusto had just decided to retreat. I took a step back before squaring my shoulders. "I mean it, let her go! She's not one of your victims! You can't take her 'cause you're dead! You are not wanted! Go!" I screamed with increasing bravado, trying to cover my fear with sheer volume. And just like that she was dropped like so much garbage, sprawled over the green lawn. I went to her quickly. As soon as she was released she curled into a tight little ball as she cried, wrapping her arms around her naked breasts and torso. I removed my shirt to drape over her naked form as I cradled her.

"I-I don't... don't know what happened! I... I was with the guys... they smoked pot...I was getting high on smoke... then we heard screamin' 'round us, feet runnin' and all that... there was pantin' an' runnin', screamin' and huffin'... But there was nothin' there! I scream'd and the guys laugh'd their crazy heads off when I stood... I wanted it to stop! I scream'd and the screamin' faded." She whispered brokenly, rocking in my arms. "T-then Josh started coughin' and g-gaspin'... somethin' was chokin' him, Davey." She trembled, digging her jagged nails in my arm.

"You had a terrible ordeal... I know Windy, there... you are safe now... Easy baby." I crooned into her ear as she clutched my shoulders spasmodically.

"You don't understand!...The others laugh'd until he keeled over dead! The ran away an' left me 'lone! I was so scared! Then I felt somethin' touch my tits... I scream'd and ran! I fell and it was tearin' my clothes! I didn't know what to do! I-I tried to fight him off... but nothin' happened! I was floatin' and he was slammin' his dirty cock in me! He stunk like a corpse, Davey! He... He said he would take me like the others! Oh, God, Davey! Make him stop!" She sobbed into my shoulder as I trembled. My gut instinct screamed at me to move because out here we were too exposed.


"There, there. Everything will be ok. Just take a deep breath. We have to get you inside." I whispered softly, trying to calm her and myself. I brought her inside and made her sit on the chair beside the kitchen table before I turned to close the door. The moment I turned to face her, something slammed into the back of my skull and I crumpled like discarded paper.

I was dreaming the hottest dream ever. A willing, hot female urged me on as I slid into her wetness. She mewled and shivered, wrapping her arms and legs around me. Her talented pussy milked my organ with tender care as she begged for more. I redoubled my efforts and stuffed her greedy pussy over and over, feeling on top of the world. She begged me to fuck her harder and I let myself go. An animalistic hunger tore inside my gut as I bit into her flesh making her scream with pleasure. I was pounding her so hard my pubic bone had to be hurting her but still she begged for more. I was practically balls deep inside her pussy but she still begged me to ram myself deeper inside her.

A buzz roared in my ears and I stopped. Somebody was screaming nearby and I wanted it to stop. My head was about to burst and I couldn't think with such a racket going. My hand moved unbidden and the sound was cut short. There that's much better. Where was I? My dream lover cooed and contracted her inner muscles, egging me on. I wanted to see her face so I opened my eyes and to my ever growing horror I found myself pounding hard into the tight cunt of my bleeding cousin. Her eyes looked dazed and she was barely conscious as I violated her. With a pained grunt, I annointed her beleaguered pussy before I was let go. I stared at my bloodied hands wrapped around her neck and I released her with a curse.

Desperately, I searched for a pulse and found it but barely. I breathed into her and tasted blood on her lips. Grief pierced my heart as I realized I had beaten her into submission while I raped her repeatedly. She barely flinched when I touched her with trembling hands as I lifted her from the bed and took her to the bathroom. The water turned pink first then rose red as it cleaned away our sins. We cried together in anguish and fear as I soaped our bodies.

"Davey... Davey... He hurt me again... His stale breath was all over me... Davey please!" She whimpered, pressing herself against me, clutching my neck like a lifeline as I cleaned her battered body.

I prayed for forgiveness as I helped her change her clothes, changed the bedclothes, burned the evidence of our time together and slipped a sedative into her warm milk. Even half asleep and drugged to the gills, she held my arm in a vice-like grip. Tired, I laid down beside her. I would think about responsibilities and consequences tomorrow. I knew my mother would scream bloody murder when she found me fast asleep by my barely conscious and battered-looking cousin. There was also the possibility of pregnancy but then again, those were things to think about tomorrow. Tonight I had to sleep and protect Windy. She cried herself to sleep, snuggling into my arms as if seeking my warmth.

I was fading fast into healing darkness when, as if from a distance, I felt my body harden. I heard the voice of another female calling my name as I sank into oblivion.

"Welcome home, mother." A scream echoed into the night.