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Sunday, January 29, 2012


They dominate the darkness.

They haunt the landscape of our nightmares, leaving us with a sense of fear and fascination.

They are the legendary supernatural beings that dwell in the shadowy realm of our imaginations.

They are vampires. 

Sworn to evil, they are the blood drinkers that send chills down our spine at the mere thought that we may be their next meal.  

Forget Dracula, Edward, Angel, Spike and yes, even Louis and Lestat.  The older tales are much darker, filled with more fear than one could ever imagine.  They are not some fairytale creature that you tell stories about to rock your children to sleep at night. 

No.  These fables are reasons for madness and insanity.  They are the reasons for sickness of the mind, for riots and plagues.

Vampires walk this Earth and you would not even know.  Not until it was too late.

Their fangs glisten with blood as they drain you, leaving you for dead in a darkened alley way.  And just as they appeared, they are gone, leaving you behind, writhing in pain, begging for the icy cold hand of death to reach out and grasp you.

As your body takes its last few breaths, you see the one who took your life.  He stands, watching you, with eyes red as fire.  There is no warmth to him.  He is simply death.  And now, your time is up.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

The Game - Part Four

“Rhiannon! Could you come here please?”

Rhiannon pushed open the study door to see her lover sitting behind the desk, a stern look on his face. She looked him up and down. Damn it. Why did all men look good in suits?

“Yes, sir,” she asked, her voice soft and meek.

Sir?  He liked the sound of that.  “I need you to stay back tonight. We've got that merger tomorrow and my notes are not ready.”

Rhiannon bit her lip. Stay late to help the boss would give her brownie points and a possible move up the corporate ladder. On the other hand, alone with the boss, late at was a dangerous precedent.

“I can stay,” she said softly, staring at the carpet. 

His head snapped up. “Good. Meet me back here at six sharp. I have a meeting just before that, so let yourself in.”

She nodded and licked her lips before retreating out of his office.

She took a seat on the couch, eyeing the door. He pulled it open and grinned at her. “How was that for acting?” he asked, taking a seat next to her. She giggled nervously, pulling on her pencil skirt. 

While she had acting experience, rolling playing for sexual pleasures was something new to Rhiannon. He sat next to her, stretching his legs out, his arm sliding around her shoulders. As it were, he was playing her uptight boss that was in serious need of getting laid and she was his lowly receptionist, dressed to the nines in a black pencil skirt, white blouse and sexy peep toe heels that showed off her perfectly polished toes.

But that wasn't what had her palms sweating. 

Last night they had talked extensively about what they wanted to do. Their sexual fantasies came to light and she learned that he wanted to try anal sex. She'd be lying if she said it hadn't crossed her mind at some point, but there was a reason why she hadn't tried it. She was scared. She was terrified. She was wishing she was somewhere else.

He cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. He knew she was nervous. She barely said a sentence to him all day, the confidence that she possessed, was gone, and he discovered that if they were to play a game of hide and seek, he would lose on account of when she wanted to avoid him, she was damn good at it. 

“We don't have to,” he said, dusting kisses along her jaw line. “We don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with. Sweetheart, I love you. I don't want to hurt you.” His tongue dipped into her ear, his hands caressing her arms. 

She knew he did and she knew that he meant what he said. She licked her lips. “But this is something you want,” she answered, softly. “And I don't know if it's because I'm a Pisces, but I have this uncontrollable need to please people.”

He felt small tremors in her body as he held her tight. He tried a different approach. “You can say no at any time,” he told her, searching her eyes for any reaction. “If you hate it, or it's too painful, then say no and I'll stop.”

“Promise?” she questioned, her voice barely audible.

He nodded, moving a strand of hair out of her face. She wore simple reading glasses, fake of course but damn, she looked sexy with them on. He kissed lightly, his tongue slipping between her teeth, massaging her own.

His hand crept up, fondling her breast through her blouse. Rhiannon sighed contently, her nipples straining against her bra, rubbing against the white lace.

He nipped at her neck, biting her skin gently. His hands roamed over her body, resting on her thigh, feeling the warmth of her skin as he slid his hand upwards.

Suddenly, he pulled back. Rhiannon whimpered. He kissed her playfully. “Patience, pretty one,” he said. “Come and see me at six.” With that, he got off the couch and walked away leaving Rhiannon feeling confused and fucking horny.

She paced the apartment, wondering what she was going to do with herself until six o'clock. It was only thirty minutes away, but still, she needed to occupy her mind. She walked into his bedroom, to her suitcase, and found her book. She walked back out, sat on the couch and began scaring herself stupid with the latest Stephen King novel.

When she looked up, it was five past six. “Shit!” she exclaimed, closing her book, scrambling to her feet. She smoothed out her skirt, shook her hair back and made her way over to his office. The door was shut so she knocked timidly. There was no answer.

Sucking in a deep breath, Rhiannon pushed the door open. The office was dark, the curtains drawn. She made her way around the other side of his desk and turned on the lamp. There was a stack of papers sitting centre on his desk with a post-it atop it with the words 'Read Me' written in his usual flourish.

Rhiannon sat down in his desk chair. Crossing her legs and leaning back a little, she picked up the papers and began to read them, a smile crossing her face. Words like 'I love you' or 'You're beautiful' stared back at her. She got to the last page when he appeared at the door.

“What are you doing?” he asked, a bemused smile on his face as he lent against the door frame, legs crossed at the ankles. Rhiannon shrieked, papers flying out of her hand. He had startled her.

“Oh.” She climbed out of his chair, dropping to her knees, scrambling to pick up the papers. She felt her cheeks burn as he moved closer to her, taking a seat in his chair. 

He smiled. It was cute when she was flustered. He watched her, her behind wiggling a little as she reached for the final paper. That skirt hugged her curves perfectly, pulling tight across her ass. He licked his lips, his erection straining against his pants. When she turned around, she was eye level with his groin. Her eyes lingered over his sudden, and obvious, bulge in his pants. She licked her lips, shaking her head slightly as she attempted to get to her feet. His hand landed on her shoulder, preventing her from standing.

Eyes wide, she stared up at him. His eyes darkened with desire. He didn't have to say anything. She knew what he wanted.

With trembling hands, Rhiannon reached for his pants, undoing the belt, fumbling with his zip. She released him to the cool air. His eyes closed as she wrapped her lips around his cock, his hand finding its way into her hair.

Her hand stroked him up and down while her warm mouth engulfed his manhood, her tongue working overtime, circling his head before performing long licks up the underside of his shaft.

He let out a guttural moan, his hand gripping her hair tightly. She glanced up at him. His eyes were closed, his mouth open, his chest rising and falling rapidly. She took this as good signs before taking his entire length into her mouth, gazing her teeth lightly over his shaft.

The grip on her hair tightened as he swore. She continued her actions, determined to get him to come. Her free hand fondled his balls, cupping them, squeezing them gently. 

He couldn't take much more of this. Her tongue worked him over expertly. Her low moans caused vibrations that he felt from his hair follicles to his toes. 

She felt his cock being to throb. Taking him further into her throat she gave his balls once last playful squeeze as he exploded in her mouth, causing her choke on the thick, sticky liquid. Her tongue swirled around him, pleasing him, squeezing ever last drop of come possible from his cock.

When she finished, she looked up at him, her green eyes framed by thick, black lashes batted seductively at him. When she ran her tongue across her plump bottom lip, his cock sprung back to life.

Taking her by the hand, he pulled her up and with one sweeping motion, cleared his desk of clutter. Rhiannon sat on the edge of his desk, her nails digging into her thigh while she watched him open his shirt. She ran her hand down his chest, lightly brushing her fingers across his nipples. His cock jumped. She saw it so she repeated her last gesture.

He grabbed her blouse, ripping it open and sending buttons flying across the room. Her choice of lingerie was sexy, yet bestowed some form of innocence upon her. Too bad what he had planned for her was anything but innocent. 

He could see her nipples straining against her bra, begging to be set free into the cool air. He placed his mouth over one, sucking at it, while he fondled the other. When he bit down, Rhiannon threw her head back, a strangled cry escaping her mouth. He tugged her other nipple, pulling it taut as she arched her back, begging him to fuck her.

He smiled. He reached under her skirt, his hands sliding up her thighs until he reached her white lace panties. He kissed her neck, trailing his tongue down until he reached her collarbone as he slowly pulled her panties off. 

The scent of sex filled the air as he raised her skirt. She was wet with desire, and that wicked gleam in her eyes added to the tension.

With one swift thrust of his hips, he sank into her moist heat. She cried out, lying down on the desk, wrapping her legs around his waist, her eyes rolling back in her head as he pounded into her. Her nails dug into the wooden desk top, her throaty cries were music to his ears. He reached out, squeezing her breasts in his hands, feeling her getting wetter with every thrust of his hips.

He pulled her bra aside, popping her nipples out of the flimsy fabric, feeling them rolling around in between his fingers. He lent over her, suckling them, running his tongue across them, flicking at them like they were a light switch. 

Her hips bucked against his, grinding herself on his rock hard cock. Her eyes opened as he kissed her, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth. His thumb found her clitoris and began rubbing her at the same intensity as he was slamming into her.

She broke the kiss, turning her head, panting, her chest rising rapidly. She let out a cry as she arched her back, her orgasm washing over her.

In a lustful daze, she found herself face down on his desk. Her legs were parted, her pussy dripping her own juices down her legs. She heard him open a drawer on his desk. She heard him put something down on the desk and the she heard the ripping of a condom wrapper. She felt him enter her swollen flesh again, coating his cock in her wetness.

His fingers returned to her clitoris, rubbing her, until she was grinding herself against his hand. She was prime. 

As he withdrew from her, she whimpered a protest. He softly chuckled in response as he parted her ass cheeks and pressed the head of his cock against her anus. She cried out as the head of his cock entered her body, her ass not offering much resistance.

Rhiannon turned to look over her shoulder as she felt him push further into her. Tears sprung to her eyes. It was as she feared; painful. He placed his arms either side of her body, lying down on top of her. He kissed her shoulder, asking how she was. Her response was a sob.

“Do you want me to pull out?” he asked, kissing her sensitive spot on her neck. She didn't respond right away. He asked again and she shook her head.

He brushed her hair aside and reminded her if she wanted him to stop all she had to do was say so and he would. “But I think you're going to enjoy this,” he added, lifting himself off her body.

He started slowly moving inside of her. The only sound was her whimpering. He knew she was biting her lip to prevent from screaming. Her body was tense which in turn was hurting him. He had to get her to relax.

A humming sound broke the silence and caused Rhiannon to cry out as a small, but powerful vibrator touched her clit. Her eyes rolled back and much to his surprise, her ass pressed back against him, allowing him in a little deeper.

He quickened his pace. Not a lot, just enough to match her writhing. He didn't want to hurt her. Her body was relaxing, not putting up as much resistance. He was freely sliding in and out of her ass, watching her juices drip down her leg.

Beads of sweat rolled off his forehead, dripping down his nose. He could see part of her back, her blouse having moved off to one side. Her sweat-soaked skin added to her beauty as he lent down and kissed it.

He changed the intensity of the vibrations causing Rhiannon to gasp. She was close to coming again. She wiggled her hips in an attempt to move the vibrator from directly on her clit. She couldn't take the powerful vibrations anymore. Her back arched as a scream tore from her throat, her body shaking uncontrollably as her second orgasm washed over her. 

Damn that was sexy. It was enough to send him over the edge, just moments later.

Exhausted, he pulled out of her. She still laid face down on his desk, legs spread, skirt bunched up around her waist. He touched her hair lovingly and she turned to look at him. She had been crying, he could see the tear stains on her cheeks, but he could also see the satisfaction written in her eyes. He kissed her deeply, pulling her up off the desk and into his lap on the chair.

“How do you feel?” he asked her, nuzzling his head against her neck.

“Sore,” she replied. 

He asked why she didn't ask him to stop. She shrugged. “It wasn't as bad as I thought,” she answered, smoothing down her skirt. 

He kissed her again, his hand running through her matted hair. She broke the kiss. “But that doesn't mean I'm interested in doing it again anytime soon,” she told him, firmly. “I'll be sitting on a bag of frozen peas for a month.”

Throwing back his head, he laughed. “Whatever you say,” he teased, nipping her neck. She gave him a cocky smile, her eyes glowing the ominous green that he had come to know and love. 

“No. Whatever you say, boss,” she teased.

Friday, January 27, 2012

I Was Only 19 (A Walk In The Light Green)

Ladies and gentlemen,

This song is a powerful and proud Aussie song that reduces me to tears every time that I hear or sing it.  I want to share it with you.  At the end of the lyrics you'll see a clip from YouTube - please click on it to hear the song.

Rhiannon Irons

Mum and Dad and Denny saw the passing out parade at Puckapunyal,
(It was long march from cadets).
The Sixth Battalion was the next to tour and it was me who drew the card…
We did Canungra and Shoalwater before we left.

And Townsville lined the footpath as we marched down to the quay;
This clipping from the paper shows us young and strong and clean;
And there's me in my slouch hat, with my SLR and greens…
God help me, I was only nineteen.

From Vung Tau riding Chinooks to the dust at Nui Dat,
I'd been in and out of choppers now for months.
But we made our tents a home, VB and pin-ups on the lockers,
and an Asian orange sunset through the scrub.

And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can't get to sleep?
And night time's just a jungle dark and a barking M16?
And what's this rash that comes and goes, can you tell me what it means?
God help me, I was only nineteen.

A four week operation, when each step could mean your last one on two legs:
it was a war within yourself.
But you wouldn't let your mates down 'til they had you dusted off,
so you closed your eyes and thought about something else.

Then someone yelled out "Contact"', and the bloke behind me swore.
We hooked in there for hours, then a God almighty roar;
Frankie kicked a mine the day that mankind kicked the moon: -
God help me, he was going home in June.

I can still see Frankie, drinking tinnies in the Grand Hotel
on a thirty-six hour rec. leave in Vung Tau.
And I can still hear Frankie lying screaming in the jungle.
'Till the morphine came and killed the bloody row

And the Anzac legends didn't mention mud and blood and tears,
and stories that my father told me never seemed quite real
I caught some pieces in my back that I didn't even feel…
God help me, I was only nineteen.

And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can't get to sleep?
And why the Channel Seven chopper chills me to my feet?
And what's this rash that comes and goes, can you tell me what it means?
God help me,
I was only nineteen.

Somewhere In The Back Of My Mind

Somewhere in the back of my mind
A little voice calls to me
Begging me not to harm myself
But to see what it sees.
"Beauty and grace
Beyond compare
Luscious locks of
Golden hair
With eyes that shine
As bright as can be
Ivory skin and
Lips so sweet."

Somewhere in the back of my mind
A little voice calls to me
Telling me to dream big
"You can be what you want to be.
Just put your mind to it
And you can do anything.
Doctor, lawyer, carpenter
Or even a cabbage king.
Nothing is off limits
When all you have is dreams
The ability to be who you want
Raises your self esteem."

Somewhere in the back of my mind
A little voice calls to me
Asking me to crack a smile
And to be filled with glee.
"A spring in your step
A song in your heart
Can make the world seem brighter
And make you feel like you're a part
Of the celebrations of life.
You're journey is just beginning
So make like Charlie Sheen
Chin up, kiddo, you're winning."

A Message From Trent

Greetings gentle readers,

I have some rather upsetting news for some of you.  I made mention that in the next two weeks I was planning on travelling Down Under to soak up some sun and enjoy the sites that the lovely Gold Coast has to offer as well as scoring another interview with the extremely talented author of this blog, Rhiannon Irons.  Alas, something in my daily life has cropped up and now I am unable to make this trip.

Do not despair, gentle readers, for I will get you that interview, however it may be a couple of months from now.

Deepest apologises to you all, but please stay tuned for more highly entertaining short stories and poetry from both Rhiannon Irons and James Thompson.



Wednesday, January 25, 2012

The Game - Part Three

After their shower play, Phil told her to get dressed. “Something accessible,” he said with a naughty wink. Her eyebrow had arched so high it was in danger of flying right of her forehead but she did as he asked.

When she walked out of the bedroom, Phil's jaw hit the floor. Standing there in a short red plaid skirt with a white button up shirt that strained against her impressive chest and killer white heels was his ideal woman. Her long blonde hair, freshly washed, was tied tightly in a ponytail, her make-up was fresh and natural.

He kissed her deeply, passionately, his hands grabbing hold of her ass and giving it a playful squeeze. She jumped and swatted his hand, her eyes lighting up with interest.

He grabbed his car keys and signalled for her to follow. “Where are we going?” she asked. Phil held open his door for her. “For a drive,” he answered with a wink. “Now follow me.” She did with trepidation.

Out in the garage he held open the door for her to his car. She climbed in, eyeing him quizzically. Closing the door behind her, Phil ran around the car and climbed in the driver's side.

“Before I forget,” he said, leaning over for a kiss. She obliged, her baby pink lipstick tasting like strawberries. While he kissed her, Phil produced a blindfold from his pocket. Holding it in his hand, her reached up and secured it around her eyes, causing a startled gasp to escape from her mouth.

“What the-?” she cried, her hands automatically reaching up to uncover her eyes. Phil slapped her hands. “If you're going to peek, then I'll have to restrain your hands,” he said teasingly, opening her shirt and running his tongue over the curve of her breast.

“You wouldn't,” she said. He gave a soft chuckle. She didn't sound as confident as she normally would. She tilted her head when she heard rattling. Something cold snapped around her wrist as Phil began pulling her arm behind her. “Give me the other hand,” he commanded. She obliged, swallowing hard as he fastened the cuff around her other wrist.

Phil looked over at his girlfriend. She was pulling against the handcuffs, her eyes blinded by a blindfold. Damn it, she looked sexy. His new erection certainly agreed with him.

He started the car and pulled out of the garage. He was taking her to a secluded spot that he knew of overlooking the city.

Every now and then he glanced over at her. Her shoulders moved slightly as she tried to free her hands. Her cheeks were flushed and he could see the concentration on her face as she tried to work out where they were going. 

He rested his hand on her thigh and she jumped. He traced his hand over her milky white skin, his hand reaching high up her skirt, sliding under the flimsy material. His eyes widened and he nearly ran off the road. That little vixen wasn't wearing any panties. Judging from the smirk on her face, she knew why the tires squealed and why the car swerved over the road.

Phil regained his composure. Though he couldn't see her eyes, he knew they were a deep shade of green and probably lighting up with wicked delight. His erection strained painfully in his pants.

He turned up an old dirt road that lead up into the tree covered hills overlooking his home. He stopped the car underneath a shady willow tree.

Carefully, he removed her blindfold. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light. He removed her handcuffs, warning her that this was his game and if she broke any of his rules they would be back on her so fast her head would spin. She nodded in response, rubbing her wrist. 

Phil could see the marks where the cuffs had dug into her skin. He took hold of her wrist and kissed it, letting his tongue tickle her skin.

He ordered her out of the car. She obliged, carefully stepping out of the vehicle. She pulled her skirt down slightly so it covered her bare ass as she took in the spectacular view. 

Phil came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her back. Her ass bumped against his erection. “I want to taste you,” he whispered in her ear, dipping his tongue inside. She shivered, turning around in his arms, offering her mouth for a kiss.

Phil chuckled, dropping to his knees and lifting her skirt. She protested as he lifted her leg over his shoulder but with a fierce gaze from him, she quietened down. 

Phil blew warm air against her pussy, watching her hips rock. He held her firmly by the hips, preventing her from running off. His tongue darted from his mouth, lazily stroking over her clitoris. Her head fell back, hair cascading down her back, her eyes closed as a strangled moan of excitement and pleasure escaped her throat. Taking this as a good sign, Phil continued with his adventure, his tongue expertly working her, pushing all her magic buttons, causing her juices to seep from her.

His tongue probed deep inside her, lapping up her juices as her hips bucked against his mouth. Phil could see she was getting close. The scent of sex filled his nostrils, her juices dripped down her thighs and his chin. 

He gave her a hard slap on her ass causing her to cry out, mostly in surprise. Her butt was stinging. She began rubbing the smooth skin, unaware that Phil had stopped licking her clit and was now standing before her.

She looked at him, her eyes narrowing. “Hey! Why did you stop?” she demanded. The look on Phil's face told her that she had broken a rule of his game. Of course, seeing as he never told her the rules, she was pretty certain that she'd be breaking more than one.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her into him. His erection slid perfectly between her thighs. Despite him still wearing his jeans, she could feel the heat radiating from his cock. “Naughty girl,” he whispered, his hand slapping her ass again. She cried out, apologising for whatever she did. Phil just chuckled and held up the cuffs.

Whimpering she held out her hands, allowing him to cuff her again. As he pulled her hands behind her back for the second time that day, she noticed they were the only car out in the wilderness. “Where are we?” she asked, feeling the handcuffs snap into place.

“Somewhere where no one can hear your screams,” he teased, kissing her neck, biting the tender flesh. She yelped as his hand caressed her body, climbing high up her skirt until his fingers parted her, slipping into her moist heat.

Without warning, Phil withdrew his fingers and opened the back door to the car. His fingers glistened from her wetness as he lead her to the back seat. He ripped open her shirt, buttons flying off in all directions, as he groped her supple breasts, feeling her nipples strain against the simple white lace bra that she wore. 

She groaned, her eyes closing as she felt Phil's lips enclose around one of her nipples, sucking it through the fabric of her bra. She tugged at the restraints, wishing she could run her hands through his hair.

Phil pulled back, taking in the sight of his beautiful girlfriend. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were glassy and he could tell she was getting frustrated. He unzipped his jeans, dropping them to the dirty ground. She wasn't the only one who decided to forego underwear. He climbed into the back seat, pulling her in with him. 

Awkwardly, he pulled her onto his lap, impaling her on his cock. She let out a loud cry as he pulled her hips down so that he was buried fully inside of her. With her hands behind her back, Phil took control of her, pulling her up off his cock entirely before sinking her back down on it. 

Her hips began to grind against his, her clitoris grinding against the base of his manhood. She could feel her orgasm building again as beads of sweat fell down her brow as Phil continued to work her body on top of his.

Up. Down. Up. Down. She was panting hard, her cries of pleasure getting louder, her green eyes rolling back in her head as she came with a triumphant scream.

Carefully, Phil lifted her off him, allowing her to curl up on the back seat while he executed his full plan. He removed his pants from around his ankles and took of his T-shirt. In the middle of the day, in the middle of the wilderness, there he stood, bronzed and naked, his cock still hard, gleaming with her juices. 

He pulled her out of the car, putting her on her knees before him. Without being told, she began to clean his cock, tasting herself. She gagged a couple of times as Phil pushed deeper into her throat, but like a champ, she continued, her tongue swirling around his shaft, tickling the underside, cleaning all the evidence of her off him.

Phil picked her up and lovingly brushed the hair out of her eyes. He gave her a kiss, his tongue dancing a tango with hers as he pulled her over to the hood of the car. He lent her over it, her ass up in the air. She looked over her shoulder as he lined up his cock with her soaking wet pussy.

He let out a throaty cry as he sank into her wetness. Every nerve in her body was alive as though it were on fire. She felt every movement of his as he picked up the intensity, ramming into her with speed reserved for a NASCAR.

Her grunts turned to moans as his hand reached around and began rubbing her clitoris with the same intensity. She pushed her ass back, meeting his, determined to driver herself to another orgasm. Phil slapped her ass as he pounded his full length into her. He enjoyed the site of her ass pushing back against him, taking him deeper into her. He could feel her inner muscles grasping his quivering member, squeezing it. If she kept that up, he'd be coming in no time. 

He pulled back, just allowing the head of his cock to rest inside her. She wiggled her ass, hinting that she was close. Phil smiled and thrust deep inside her, his cock spewing forth a hot, sticky, creamy load. He continued to rub her clit while he emptied his seed deep inside her body. He felt her tense, her muscles, gripping his cock as she came again, her mouth open in a silent scream.

He pulled out of her. Come dripped down her legs, pooling on the dirt. She laid still on the hood of his car, breathing hard, her wrists raw from the constant pulling on the cuffs. 

Phil got dressed before removing the cuffs from her wrists. She turned to look at him, satisfaction in her eyes. He kissed her passionately, his hands running through her hair. 

“I like your idea of a drive,” she said teasingly. “I like it very much.”

Monday, January 23, 2012

The Game - Part Two

The rain began to fall. The sound of it landing on the balcony tiles had Rhiannon opening her eyes.

She was lying in his bed, a simple white satin sheet draped over her naked body. She sat up, clutching the sheet in her hand, covering her body. She looked around, confused about where she was for a moment. Then it all came back to her.

She had left her humble dwellings of Australia to travel to California to be with him. He had charmed her like no man had before. As it was now, he was lying on his back, his mouth open in a silent snore. 

Carefully, Rhiannon swung her legs out of bed, her feet landing softly on the hardwood floors. She stretched, her blonde hair cascading down her back like a golden waterfall while her blue-green eyes danced with delight as she surveyed the room.

He had made love to her for most of last night, taking her to places she had never known before, making her feel things she thought she could only feel on her own. She glanced over her shoulder at him. He stirred in his sleep, wrestling with his pillow, probably dreaming it was her. She gave a soft chuckle as she walked into the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind her.

Rhiannon stared at her reflection. Her hair was wavy, unruly and her mascara had run slightly, smudging under her eyes. She reached into her small make-up bag and removed a hair clip. She piled her hair up and clipped it into place before turning her attention to the shower.

Once the water was running, and the temperature was just right, Rhiannon stepped in, the warm water rushing over her, refreshing her tired and aching body. She closed her eyes, her mind floating back to yesterday where she had teased him endless while they were at the beach. She had shown off her curvaceous body in an ice blue bikini that had made him make a beeline for the waist-deep water. Rhiannon smirked as she remembered him beckoning her to come out and join him.

She turned around, the water bouncing off her shoulders, droplets sliding over her ample breasts, sliding down her cleavage. She traced the line with her index finger, feeling the softness of her flesh. Her skin was turning pink from the heat of the water, but she didn't care. She was tired from their all night sexual marathon and yet, as she stood there, her hands cupping her breasts, squeezing her nipples, she felt highly aroused. 

The sound of the door closing had her eyes fluttering open. There he stood, naked, hair tousled, half asleep with a silly grin on his face. “Having fun without me?” he teased, pulling open the shower door and climbing in with her. Rhiannon smiled innocently and gave him a lingering kiss, her lips parting, her tongue teasing the tip of his.

When she broke the kiss, he was fully awake. She glanced down. Yes, he was fully awake. “You just looked so peaceful,” she said, her hand grazing lightly over his bronzed chest, feeling his muscles beneath her palm. “I didn't want to disturb you.”

He wrapped his hand around her waist, pulling her in closer to him, her hip bumping his erection. He nipped at the delicate flesh of her neck, his tongue lightly tracing circles over her skin causing Rhiannon to shiver. How was it that he always knew how to turn her on? 

A moan escaped her mouth before she realised it. He chuckled, his hands roaming over her body, feeling the curve of her hip, the softness of her breasts, the firmness of her ass.

Rhiannon's eyes snapped open. She had felt them change colour from deep blue to emerald green. She turned to stare at him. His dark eyes widened when he saw the wicked glint in hers.

Placing a hand on his chest, Rhiannon pushed him back against the wall, his back hitting the cold tiles. Her eyes locked onto his as she lowered herself to her knees, a faint smile playing on her features. With the water of the shower running down her back, she opened her mouth, her tongue teasing the head of his hard cock.

A strangled groan escaped from his mouth as his hand landed on her shoulder. Taking this as a good sign, Rhiannon took his entire length in her mouth while her hands fondled his balls, cupping them and giving them a gentle squeeze. She heard his moans of delight as her tongue swirled around his shaft, tickling the underside. His hand snaked its way into her hair, removing the clip then grasping the golden curls. 

Rhiannon pulled back and began stroking his length, her eyes locked onto his face, watching his reactions as she continued to tease him. She flickered her tongue across the sensitive head as his hips bucked towards her face. She repeated this last action, her hand still stroking him expertly. 

This time as he bucked his hips, Rhiannon opened her mouth, allowing him full access to her throat. Her eyes watered when her gag reflex kicked in, but still she took his whole length. 

His grip on her hair tightened as he begged her to suck him harder. She smiled and lightly grazed her teeth along his shaft creating a new sensation as she bobbed up and down, alternating between taking his full length to just sucking the head of his cock into her mouth.

His cock began to pulse. She glanced up, her eyes dancing with delight. He was close. She increased her grip on his member, her rhythm intensifying.

She winced as his grip on her hair tightened. She felt his whole body tense before a thick load of hot, creamy liquid filled her mouth. She began swallowing as he spewed forth his load, never once letting up, stroking and sucking him until he was dry.

His eyes fluttered open as her hand dropped away from his cock. He released his grip on her hair, glancing down to watch the blonde tresses glide delicately over his hand. Her eyes were on him as she licked the corner of her mouth before standing, her hair matted down her body by the pulsing water from the shower.

Pulling her closer to his body, he kissed her cheek, her neck and her collarbone. Rhiannon's eyes closed. She whimpered when he stopped.

“Game on,” he said, teasingly.

Have You Ever

Have you ever noticed when
Things don't go right
That's the time when
People want to end their life?

Have you ever received
A smile from a stranger?
A simple act of kindness
Can always ward off anger

Have you ever noticed
That the world continues to turn
Even when the chips are down
And you've just be burned?

Have you ever seen
A couple in love?
They kiss, they cuddle
They push and shove

Have you ever wanted
To be included in the discussion
Regardless of the topic
Or the repercussions?

Have you ever fallen
In love head over heels
For someone who wasn't right
But had a killer set of wheels?

Have you ever loved someone
So much that it makes you cry
Knowing you can't live without them
For you would simply die?

I have noticed all these things
And have come to know
That kindness tends to leave us
With a healthy glow

So before you run off
Before you leave to endeavor
Look around and ask yourself
Have you ever

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Confessions Of A Serial Killer

I would love to say I've lived a fairytale life. That my childhood was perfect and that my parents were a great source of compassion and love. This, however, is not the case. For if it were, do you really think I would be sitting here with you now?

You come to me in hopes of understanding what makes someone kill. Let me tell you something, detective, every human being on the face of the Earth is a ticking time bomb, waiting for that eventual moment that will cause them to explode in utter chaos. 

Don't believe me? Then let me ask you this. Do you ever wish that a perp would just confess to his sins, making your job easier? Do you wish that the one that got away on account of a good lawyer would wind up dead in the gutter being pissed on by a homeless bum? You're as much a time bomb as me. The only difference is, I exploded years ago.

So, detective, does this mean you want to hear my life story? Shall I begin at the start like David Copperfield “I was born, I grew up,” or would you prefer me to cut right to the chase and tell you about my first victim? 

He was a lovely young man by the name of Bradley T. Sherwood. I never knew what the T was for, but he was a hunk of hot man meat. Yum. He was my high school sweetheart. Tall, dark, brooding, handsome. All the things that make a girl weak at the knees. But then he turned into the typical male that I knew he would. You see, it was right before Spring Fling and I caught him hanging around Daisy Jenkins. Daisy Jenkins, can you believe that?! Anyway, Brad had made plans to attend the Spring Fling with me, but then I caught him asking that two-faced lying bitch out for the same night. He thought he could walk into the gym with two of the hottest girls in school on his arm.

I made sure he wouldn't be walking anywhere. I followed him home from school one day, pretending to need help in math. In reality, all I wanted to do was snap his neck. So I did. First I broke his leg by pushing him down the flight of stairs that lead to the basement. As he was lying there, crying like a toddler, I told him how pissed I was that he was fawning over Daisy Jenkins and how he had better apologise for hurting my feelings and breaking my heart. He swiftly did, grovelling at my feet, begging for forgiveness. It was then that I placed my hands on his cheeks. I kissed him goodbye then snapped his neck.

It was a quick death, painless almost. Hey, I said almost. Not my complete fault that he was a chauvinistic pig that deserved to be slaughtered.

You know, I blame the parents. If parents knew how to raise their children properly, I wouldn't have to kill the no good sons of bitches. If parents raised their sons to respect women and not to treat them like sexual objects of affection, then I wouldn't be sitting here now, dining on what will be my last meal.

Who was next? Tom Sheldon, bank manager. Then came Donald and Ray Beaumont. Trusting souls they were. They tried to help a poor woman in distress, but last I looked, I know how to change a tire and don't need no beatnik feeling me up while I get the jack from the trunk. They put their hands on my ass, which I did not welcome by the way, so I put the tire iron through theirs.

But no kill sticks in my mind like that of Robert Barton. Robert was a gentle person. He was polite, friendly and was always ready with an off-color joke. Ahh yes, there was something special about Robert. His quiet, majestic manner in which he conducted his daily routine was magnificent. He always held his head proudly. Married for forty years, you know.

Married for forty years. Can you believe that? That's a huge achievement. Of course, when a young, lovely lady walks past with a short skirt, forty years means nothing. He followed me out to the pool and offered to put some suntan lotion on me. His hands were not the hands of an older gentlemen. Nor were his lips when he eventually kissed me. They were just as soft as a younger mans, but his tongue held more experience than any man before him. 

I suggested that we continued our raunchiness inside one of the poolside cabanas to which Robert agreed and greedily dragged me inside the closest one. Once we were inside, his hands became furious, running all over my taut body, pulling at my already erect nipples. His mouth enclosed over mine, his tongue doing things I can't even describe. He stripped off and that's when I realized that he was certainly an older man. His ass was so saggy and wrinkly I could have sworn that elephants had firmer skin. And his dick? Oh, it's no wonder he was married for forty years, his wife was probably banging the pool boy in order to stay happy.

But he was a gentle lover.  He popped one of those blue pills that causes a 'rise' and we were good to go. I mounted him, feeling his old, wrinkly cock push inside my young, firm body, and I began riding him like he had never been ridden before. My palms were flat against his chest, grasping onto the stringy white hairs that covered his chest and ran down the plain of his beer belly. Slowly, without him noticing, I moved my hands up and down his chest, inching closer to his neck. I grabbed his shoulders, digging my nails in. That was those marks that appeared unconfirmed in the autopsy report. Then I wrapped my hands around his neck and squeezed the life out of him.

It was the most intimate thing anyone could go through. Watching his eyes bulge then roll back in his head, as his hands grasped my hips, attempting to lift me off. Pure poetry. It's something I shall never forget. Watching someone's life slip away is a thrill that no words can explain. You see, in that brief moment before Robert passed on, I saw right into his soul. I saw the fear in his eyes, the pain that his body felt. I felt everything he felt, including the fact that he ejaculated inside me. I think the choking helped him come faster.

But you see, detective, once you choke the life out of someone and you see into their soul, nothing is as good. Nothing is as intimate. I tried guns. I didn't care for them. It was over too quickly. I tried copying those torture porn films that you can hire out, but pulling off someone's fingernails then slitting their throat from ear to ear just didn't give me the same rush.

I even tried strangulation with rope and appliance cord, but I had problems with that too. No, it wasn't a strength thing, but rather the fact that I couldn't see their eyes as they gasped for their last breath. You see, it's that single moment, just before their life slips away that I enjoy the most. That magical moment when my anger for the male gender explodes in a blinding hatred for the man that's touching me, and results in me sitting on them, riding them til they burst in a creamy white load of excitement. That's what I enjoy the most.

The fame? Oh please. How shallow do you think I am, detective? I didn't do this for fame or infamy. I did it to prove a point. Mothers, make your sons take responsibility for their actions and maybe, just maybe, they won't be prematurely deceased.

Is our time up already? That's a shame. I was just getting to the good parts. Don't worry detective, you'll find out everything in due time. I shall see you tomorrow before the execution.

Oh, and detective? Before you go, there's something else I should probably tell you. You won't find them all. Not whole anyway.

The Game


She hit the wall face first. Her lover came up behind her, his erection pressing into the small of her back. He twisted her arm behind her, holding her firmly, his free hand roaming over her body.

They had been teasing each other all day. They had gone to the beach earlier and when she removed her cotton dress to reveal her ice blue bikini, he nearly lost it right then and there. He had to wade out into the water, until his erection went down. Needless to say, he was in the water for a couple of hours before she decided to join him. 

He had held her in his arms, running his hands over her smooth skin, kissing and nibbling at her neck causing her to moan softly. His hand had caressed her body, slipping beneath the waves, gliding over her hip, and coming to a rest on the curve of her ass. He had slipped his hand inside her swimsuit but she had swam off, glancing over her shoulder, smiling teasingly at him. Of course, that caused his cock to shoot skyward, and he found himself stranded in the ocean while she walked along the sand, shooting him seductive looks every now and then.

Now he had her right where he wanted her. At his mercy. 

He grabbed her breasts, fondling her with firm hands, tugging at her nipple that had become erect and was straining against her bikini top. She gasped, her eyes closing briefly as he blew warm air on to the back of her neck.

Sliding his tongue over the nape of her neck, he kissed her flesh, the tip of his tongue tingling as her body rocked against his, bumping his throbbing erection.

Releasing her arm, he pulled her body back against him, his hands making quick work of her white cotton dress. He tossed it aside and removed his shirt. She turned around to watch, her eye glinting in excitement, her pink tongue wetting her lips.

He frowned, tossing his shirt onto the chair. He grabbed her and forcefully turned her around so she was facing the wall. “Phil?” she said, her voice barely a whisper, hinting at how unsure she was.

Phil smiled, lent in close and whispered in her ear, “I'm not going to hurt you. But this is my game. And you have to play by my rules.” His tongue dipped in her ear, his hands firmly planted on her bikini clad hips, his thumbs looping inside the flimsy fabric. 

He pulled her bikini bottoms down slightly, exposing the curve of her ass. His hands lingered for a moment before rubbing over her belly, feeling her bellyring jingle as his palm waved over it before heading south. His fingers rubbed her thighs, pulling them a little further apart. She craned her neck, looking over her shoulder as two of his fingers rubbed her between her thighs, his other hand resting on her throat.

Tossing her head back, she let out a low moan as she felt one of his fingers tease her clitoris, rubbing the delicate bud gently before pulling away. It was this last action that had her rocking her hips forward and groaning in frustration. Phil let out a soft chuckle as he slid one finger inside her, testing her readiness.

She was warm and wet, her body inviting. As Phil's middle finger plundered the very depths of her being, his thumb began slow rotations on her clitoris. With her hands firmly planted against the wall, she rocked her hips side to side, grinding herself on his hand.

As their rhythm increased, her breathing quickened, her juices began to flow uncontrollably as she let out a cry of undeniable pleasure. 

Phil's fingers didn't let up as her body convulsed, a sheen of sweat lingering over her skin. Her face was flushed, her cheeks tinged pink as she rode out her intense orgasm.

She held onto the wall for balance, basking in the glow of her own pleasures. She felt Phil pull away from her, heard him fumbling with his pants, then felt the flesh of his cock as it began pressing against her, begging to enter her swollen flesh.

She shook her head, swallowing hard as he entered her with one swift stroke. She whimpered. Every nerve in her body was alive and tingling and she was certain she couldn't come again. His hand found its way back to her clitoris, and continued to rub in a slow, circular manner.

That familiar tingling feeling prickled in her stomach. She couldn't possibly have another orgasm in such quick succession. She leaned back against him, breathing hard. “Come for me, baby,” Phil grunted, slamming his rock hard cock into her warm, wanting body. “Come for me.”

She shook her head. “I can't,” she said breathlessly. “It's too much.” Phil held her tighter, his free hand gripping her hips, his nails digging into her creamy white flesh. He didn't let up. He could feel her body respond to his manipulation. Her inner muscles began grabbing at his cock, her body twitching as he quickened the rhythm in which he slammed into her. His hand that was rubbing her clitoris also quickened the pace.

“I'm going to come,” he told her. “I want you to come with me.”

Her response was throwing her head back, a throaty cry escaping her lips, her hands tweaking her own nipples, fondling her breasts. Damn it was sexy.

Phil couldn't last any longer. With one last thrust, he came deep inside her. He watched as her eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth open in a silent scream as her body shook uncontrollably as her second orgasm washed over her. She could feel his juices mixing with hers. Her legs shook and suddenly she was grateful to be able to lean against the wall.

Her body was glistening with sweat, her long blonde hair matted to her back, her green eyes glassy with pleasure. Phil pulled out of her, a steady trail of their mixed juices escaped her body, sliding down her thighs. 

He dusted light kisses over her shoulders, his hands holding her hips firmly. He gave a soft chuckle as she sighed in contentment.

“I love you,” he whispered, moving her matted hair from around her neck. He kissed it, his cock swelling in response as his hands raised, cupping her breasts. 

Craning her neck, her eyes flicking open, she smiled in satisfaction. She felt his erection bump against the small of her back and, for a brief moment, Phil was convinced her saw her eyes dance with delight.

She smiled seductively. “Ready for more?” she asked.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Hi From Rhiannon Irons

Hi everyone!

I know I've been a little slack lately and haven't been posting much so I thought I would drop you all a line to say hi and let you know what's happening.

I am focusing on Ahlephia and getting it finished.  Of course, it wouldn't be me if I didn't have a couple of other projects in the works as well...Marooned is still going strong and I'm also putting my erotica to the test with a feature novel titled An Evening In Roma which I am very excited about.

If you're an avid reader of my blog (or my Twitter feed) you will know that I still am writing proudly for Truly Disturbing.  At the moment, I am focusing on my monthly articles 'Horror Icon Of The Month' as well as 'It Came From Down Under' which looks at Australian horror films.  My debate inducing columns have hit the preverbial brick wall as I seem to have run out of topics.  If there is something you think I can debate, please feel free to leave me a message below or on Twitter.

I have a couple of short stories also in the works at the moment.  A couple tales of erotica and a couple of horror.  As per the norm, the horror ones are based on urban you've probably heard the tale before.  Like always, I do try to put my own spin on them in hopes of keeping them fresh.

So now you know what I'm up to.  I want to thank each and every one of you for all the support we've been getting over the course of the last three years.  With 2012 being the fourth year that The Final Curtian is up and running, I can already tell it's going to be our best year ever!  James will be back with some new material for us all, which I'm really excited about, and Trent will be back (in a couple of weeks) with new interview(s).

Thank you once again for taking a few moments out of your busy lives to read this.  We appreciate it more than I can possibly say.

Lots of love,
Rhiannon Elizabeth Irons

Friday, January 20, 2012

Nightmare Hospital

When Alex opened his eyes, he knew he wasn't in his world any more. For one thing, he was in his underwear and he couldn't remember the last twenty-four hours. At least, not clearly anyway.

All around him the scent of death and decay flooded his nostrils. Mould clung to the walls, seeping from the cracks in the tiles. The lights flicked on and off, adding to the eerie feel of the old hospital.

He tried to stand, gripping hold of an old hospital bed as he forced himself to his feet. His legs shook violently. 

A noise came from the hall. Alex's knuckles turned white as he gripped the bed. His eyes scanned the room, searching for anything that he could use as a weapon. 

Across the room there was a tray with surgical instruments lined up neatly. The flicking bulb was directly above it. Alex grabbed a scalpel and made his way to the double doors.

Peering through the small window, he could see into the hall. It was dark, and the walls were lined with shadows that seemed to be playing with his mind. Alex took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

Looking around wildly, Alex confirmed his suspicions. He was indeed in an old, abandoned hospital. The scent of death was stronger in the hall then what it had been in the room. Seeping mildew and mould flooded his nostrils like a scent from hell, while the floor was littered with papers and upturned furniture. Alex sniffed. He could detect the faintest scent of smoke. Something was on fire, and yet no alarm rang out.

Slowly he turned right and began walking down the hallway, approaching each room with caution. If this was an old hospital, where was everybody? Surely he wasn't here all alone.

His bare feet made a soft thudding as he lightly jogged down the hall. He stopped when he heard a noise. It sounded like someone was crying. Tilting his head, Alex followed the sound. The soft sobbing from coming from inside the morgue. Carefully he pulled opened the door, his eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness.

On the floor near where they kept the cadavers laid a young woman. Like him, she too was in her underwear, although hers was a lot sexier than his simple white tank top and boxer briefs. She wore a lacy white bra and matching panties with a pair of white heels. Her feet were tied together, her hands behind her back and a pillow slip covered her head.

Alex reached out, gripping the pillow case in his hand before pulling it off her. Her eyes blinked rapidly, desperately trying to get use to the sudden influx of light. She was gagged. Alex watched her struggle for a moment before removing the gag. She thanked him and begged him to untie her.

It took him a while to work the knots but eventually she was free. She stood up, flipping her long chocolate brown hair over her shoulders and shaking her legs out to reintroduce circulation. Alex licked his lips as he stared at the young woman.

“I'm Alex,” he said, extending his hand, eyes trained on her ample cleavage that wasn't exactly well hidden by her barely there attire. “Cordelia,” she replied, shaking his hand.


Cordelia gripped Alex's arm, her nails digging into his flesh. He winced, baring his teeth as he watched the door. He held the scalpel out in front of his body, his hand shaking. “What was that?” she asked, her voice barely audible. Alex shrugged. Whatever it was, it was gone.

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the door. Pausing, Alex carefully pressed his ear against the door. Nothing. Slowly he pushed it open, motioning for Cordelia to follow. She did, her eyes scanning the darkened corridors. “Where is everyone?” she asked, as Alex closed the door to the morgue. “Your guess is as good as mine,” he replied, rubbing his bare arms, his eyes roaming over her body.

Cordelia placed her hands on her hips when she caught him staring. “Do you mind?” she asked, narrowing her dark eyes at him. Alex licked his lips. “Not at all,” he replied with a wink. Cordelia rolled her eyes in disgust, folding her arms across her breasts, attempting to conceal them from Alex's view. 

Another loud bang made her jump. Alex turned towards where the sound had come from. His eyes scanned the darkened hallway, searching for any other signs of life. 

“Someone's down there,” he said softly, nodding in the direction the noise had come from. Cordelia arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “No shit,” she retorted. “But I've seen enough horror movies to know this will never end well, so let's get the hell out of here.”

Alex shook his head. “Someone else could need our help,” he reasoned, taking a step. Cordelia didn't move. Alex sighed. “You can stay here then,” he told her. “All by yourself while I go and see if someone else is alive.” With that he turned and marched off down the hall, scalpel in hand.

Cordelia watched as he rounded the corner. She tapped her foot, the only sound filling the corridor was that of her high heel. That is, until something behind her groaned. 

The hairs stood up on the back of her neck. Eyes wide with fear, she turned around slowly and screamed. 

Cordelia's scream could be heard for miles. Alex froze on the spot, hand on the door handle to a doctor's office. His heart pounded in his chest, threatening to break through the bones and skin. He craned his neck, listening intently for the sound of her heels against the tiled floor. Nothing.

Holding the scalpel out in front of him, he raced back down the corridor, rounding the corner and coming to a complete halt. What he saw made his blood run cold. Where Cordelia had been standing was a large pool of blood, the dark stain slowly inching its way along the floor towards him.

Backing up, Alex fell against the wall, his eyes still trained on the spot where he had last left her. That vomit taste engulfed his mouth and his cheeks puffed as his throat closed up. He shouldn't have left her alone. His hand covered his mouth as horrid thoughts of her demise sprung to his mind. Was she just decapitated or was her body brutally mauled? Where was her body?

Shaking, Alex got his feet. Cordelia was gone. He had to find a way out of here and get some help because clearly something wasn't right.

Alex turned around and began heading back to the doctor's office where he had heard the noise. His shaking hand come to rest on the door knob and gave it a turn. With a creak, the door opened to reveal a grizzly sight. 

Blood lined the walls, the room trashed. Papers lined the floor, the desk lamp was on the ground, its bulb flickering, adding to the eerie feel of the room. The filing cabinet had been pushed over, its drawers open, the files scattered all over the floor and desk. A still lit cigarette smoldered slightly in a crystal glass ashtray. 

“What the hell happened here?” Alex said aloud to no one in particular. The room was in such disarray that he began to wonder if Jason Voorhees or Michael Myers had escaped the confinements of the television into the realm of reality.

A bloody hand print near the door caught his attention. Alex saw it clear as crystal. He noticed that the hand print continued down the wall, the bloody trail telling him that someone was dragged. He followed the blood over to where the filling cabinet was. The trail stopped.

Alex's mind raced a million miles per second. He had so many questions and no one to answer them. In frustration he let out a cry and kicked the wall. The plaster broke, revealing old wires and pipes. 

He slumped against the wall. He shivered. It was starting to get cold. His head turned to stare at the barren desk. On the chair there hung a white lab coat. Alex got to his feet and quickly slipped it on. Much to his surprise, it fitted perfectly.

He sat down at the desk and began flicking through the files. The computer light was on and it was humming away loudly, but the monitor was broken, streaks of dried blood was etched on the glass fragments. Alex sighed. Nothing was ever easy. 

Flicking through a file, he stopped cold. A patient file signed by one Doctor Gellar...for Cordelia. “Cordelia Ambrosia Carpenter. Suicide watch.” Alex scanned the rest of her file. She was apparently delusional and often seen talking to herself. Doctors had diagnosed her as bi-polar.

Alex leaned back, the chair creaking with his shifted weight. He picked up another file by Doctor Gellar and began to read, hoping to unearth more clues.

“What the fuck?”

Alex sat straight up, his eyes widening. According to the file he held in his hand the doctors at Oak Hills Hospital were working on a serum that could combat the growth of cancer cells. They had a control group of mental patients that they had tested the serum on, but with dangerous consequences. According to the file, the patients began craving human flesh and eventually began cannibalising the whole town. 

Shaking his head, Alex couldn't believe what he was reading. His eyes scanned the other pages, searching for something else. It turns out that national guard was called in, killing the control group with a round to the head and chest of each mental patient. 

Alex closed the file. He could have gone his whole life without knowing about the secrets of Oak Hills Hospital. He got up out of the chair and made his way over to the door, pulling it open and stepping into the darkened hall.

A groan from the end of the corridor made Alex's head snap around. Standing in the doorway was a man covered head to toe in blood. Like Alex, this man wore a doctor's lab coat.

“Holy shit,” Alex mouthed, upon seeing the bloody sight. “Hey, are you alright?”

The man groaned in response, lurching forward at a slow steady pace reserved only for zombies in movies. Alex took a couple of steps closer. The stench of death was so strong that he began to choke. The man lurched forward again, black tar-like substance fall from his chapped lips while his flesh was rotting with a horrid yellow texture.

Alex turned on his heel and ran back the way he came.

He rounded the corner and came to a screeching halt. A wall of people had appeared before him, moving at the same pace as the man Alex had just encountered.

Trapped, Alex began backing up slowly until his back was pressed against the wall. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Zombies. Zombies were real and the doctors at Oak Hills Hospital were responsible.

Desperately searching for an escape, Alex noticed an air vent on the opposite wall. He rushed over, pulled open the grate and hoisted himself up. Pulling himself into the vent, Alex noticed that the scent of death was getting stronger as the zombies advanced.

Crawling along on his hands and knees, Alex followed the vent as it twisted and turned around the hospital layout. 

A loud droning noise flooded his ears. As he crawled along, the noise became louder. He rounded the corner only to come face to face with an industrial fan. “Great,” Alex said, rolling his eyes. “Dead end.” He wiggled his body backwards, when his foot hit another vent entrance.

Kicking out, Alex's foot broke through the grate, sending it crashing to the ground. He climbed out of the vent, his eyes trying to refocus on the lack of light. He was in what appeared to be an operating room. Instruments of medicine were shelved, the overhead lights blinked repeatedly and a small fire was raging in a bin full of medical waste. Blood lined the walls and floor along with a black tar-like substance. Alex remembered seeing the same black substance foaming out the mouths of the zombies in the corridor.

Not wanting to stick around and take his chances, Alex pulled open the double doors and sprinted down the main corridor. His bare feet thudded against the cold and blood stained tiles. 

He stopped when the corridor came to a dead end. He swore, slamming the palms of his hands against the wall. A steel door caught his eye. Well, to be more precise, the word 'Basement' that aligned the door caught his eye.

Taking a deep breath, Alex pulled open the door. The sound of dripping pipes echoed as he slowly descended the stairs. He craned his neck around the corner. “Hello?” he called. “Is someone there?”

He took a step. Then another. The hairs on the back of his neck began to prickle, his sense of paranoia heightened. He scratched his neck, which he always did when he was nervous, as he approached the centre of the room. 

A single hanging light bulb dimly lit the area directly beneath it. Alex could see a table covered by a sheet. There was something under it. With a shaking hand, Alex reached for the sheet...

“Doctor Gellar!”

Alex turned around. He was standing in his office, his back to the door. The office was brightly lit, his computer hummed softly, his desk was organised, his cigarette smouldering in the crystal ashtray and his potted plant was growing at a healthy rate.  "It was a nightmare," he sighed, staring out the window at the sun and the bluebirds chirping in the courtyard.  "Just a nightmare." 

The young man stood in the doorway, a frustrated scowl on his face. “I asked if you were ready for the presentation?” he said, impatiently tapping his watch. “The board is ready and waiting.”

“What presentation?” Alex asked, a perplexed look springing to his face.

The man sighed and rolled his eyes. “The presentation on B1980. You know, the drug that could possibly end cancer as we know it.”

Alex's mind flashed back to the deserted and derelict hospital, the blood and the zombies. The report that he read flashed through his memory. The cannibalism of the town hit his memory like a ton of bricks.

Shaking his head, Alex sat down at his desk. “No,” he said.

The man at the door groan. “No what?”

“No, I'm not ready. B1980 isn't ready to be tested. There's too many questions left unanswered.”

The man stared at him, arching an eyebrow, his middle finger pushing his glasses up his nose. “What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded. “We've tested the drug. Remember, Doc, we administered it to me two weeks ago. I'm what you're presenting to the board. The fact that B1980 is curing my bowel cancer. The cancer cells are dropping and my life expectancy has risen.” The man scratched his arm. Alex stared at him, his mouth gaping open. 

For as he scratched, chunks of his rotting, yellow flesh fell swiftly to the floor...