Burning

 

 

 

The barrier’s up, that’s a good thing. Father is having sex with mother again. I could hear her screams when I was all the way down the street. I never go inside the garage anymore, that’s their place. The door’s already bolted so she can’t escape. Father is the only one who has the key. Malaki says I shouldn’t help, not that I bother to anyway; he just doesn’t want to see my father love me like he loves her. That’s the unsaid rule between my father and me. I stay out of his business; he treats me like a proper son. In a way, I feel sorry for Malaki. I almost feel sorry for my mother. Everyday they’re made to suffer for her crimes. At least my mother knows not to call for help from anyone, anymore.

I know father blames mother for Jonas’s death, after all, it was their fault. Her and that cult she joined. Jonas was among the first to be taken in the night. My mother was jealous of their love. She wanted father, and now she has him. Funny how irony and fate works, Jonas is among them while mother receives my father’s love every night. She should be lucky; at least he doesn’t beat her anymore like the other cursed ones. The cursed ones, witches; they should have never caused the rift. I don’t know how, no one will speak of it anymore, but mother is one of them and now she pays the price with blood.

 

***

The sun has disappeared behind the horizon. No one will come out to save her, not in the night. No one ever comes out in the dark. They rule the night. We rule the day. No one went out after their own respective curfew, not unless you want to stop breathing. Not unless you wanted the change. You never hear them breathe. You hear them grunt, you hear them moan, you hear them scream, but you never hear them breathe. That’s how they catch you. They’re fast, quick; they hide in the shadows, roaming about town. You’d see a glimpse of them, here or there, if you looked out your window. Can’t tell if they’re female or male; all different, yet they were still the same.

I climb the creaky steps of my two-story house. I pass the empty littering the first floor and the paint peeling on the hallway walls. Malaki will be cleaning and fixing that in the morning, he always does. When I entered my room, I could smell smoke. Another set of screams sounded, but they weren’t my mother’s. I peered out my barricaded window. I’m not so stupid as to open my window at night. There’s a fire, only one street down.

Interesting, they managed to cast three houses on fire that must have took a lot elbow grease. Maybe those people’s barricades were just that weak. The fire seemed to be coming from the lower parts of the house and building its way up. That poor bastard of a woman, they’re dragging her out the front door, down the steps and into the darkness. Maybe those things will be human, devour her as a meal or whatever it is they do. At least the barricade kept the house contained. Maybe those enchanted flames will keep the cold air at bay; it’ll save us money on next month’s electricity.

I shift the blinds until they are slightly slanted. It gives me enough privacy and the fire’s glow is enough to illuminate my room. Slowly I peel off my shirt, then my sports bra, letting my full B cup size breasts hang freely. All this coldness is making my nipples so erect, they hurt. I’ll take a warm shower.

 I left my boxers in the wastebasket in the corner; I like to keep my dirty clothes out of sight. The warm water certainly felt nice as I turned on the shower. It feels nice. So good that not only is my manhood hard, but the folds of my womanhood are wet. To others, they say it’s a curse, but I find this, what I am, a blessing. I am a rare creature onto myself – despite the other just like me – almost fully graced with the true gift of both genders.

My erected shaft measures seven inches and three quarters in length, miraculous to even my sex’s standards. I’m not able to reproduce, but I’m still able to receive the menstrual cramps. No blood dripping down my thighs. I heard the door to my room open not a moment ago. I shouldn’t keep him waiting. Quickly I leave my thoughts in the shower when I step out. I dry myself before slipping on my feminine nightgown. I know tonight he’ll appreciate me wearing the negligee. It belonged to Jonas, Malaki’s twin. It was a gift to Jonas from my father.

“Hey Malaki,” I’m smiling as I step out of the bathroom, combing out my wet hair with my fingers.

I could smell the spice of the cologne and the powder soap he was wearing. Malaki sat on my bed in his Armani shirt and dress slacks. My erection is blossoming against the sheer fabric.

“You look…”

I walked over to him and his hands slid up the slip of my gown. Malaki held my hips and pulled me onto his knee.

“So much like…”

I lean and captured his lips with my own. “I love you, Malaki. Just me.”

I pull off the gown, my fingers run through his hair. Instinctively, Malaki pulls me into a full straddling position, grinding his hips against mine. I could sense his possessiveness when he stares at me with lustful eyes. My hands roam downward against the collared shirt, pulling the fabric apart button by button. A smile crept upon my lips when his fingers brushed against my breasts. We lay together, me naked and him wanton. I tilt my head and his wet tongue massages my hot mouth. Malaki’s lips softly press against my neck, licking and sucking to his heart’s content I lick my dry lips and stare into the outside abyss momentarily. There are fingerprints on my glass window.

 When I finally finish stripping Malaki, I’m beneath him. With passionately kiss, he holds me close. Malaki moves lower, devouring me with that sweet mouth of his until my milk is pouring down his throat. We lay there, kissing, touching; my arms are over my head, pinned down against the pillows. Malaki kisses me hungrily, spreads my legs, slipping two fingers deep within my entrance. His lips are everywhere; fingers pushing further, loosening my tightness. Malaki soon with draws them, but his eagerness rubs against my entrance. Lighting illuminates the sky, thunder rolling in the distance. I cry out when he glides smoothly into my womanhood. Our moans and grunts are heavier each passing second.

We move together until he cries out my father’s name. He groans huskily, giving me one final thrust before spilling his seed within my womb. A replacement lover, a grieving brother: I hold him, this broken man in our aftermath.  In my arms, he weeps himself to sleep. Who am I to deny him comfort?

With him sleeping soundly in my arms, the ever-burning fire greets the dawning morning.  Out of those corners in the darkness, I can tell someone is watching me through my windowsill. It’s oddly shaped shadow peers at me within the darkness. It’s been watching my room every night. I sometimes wonder if I will be taken next.