Return

Put fingers to keyboard and make your fantasies come to life!
User avatar
PM2K
Always Remembered
Posts: 10386
Joined: Wed Apr 15, 2009 6:14 pm
Location: Eastern Ontario

Return

Postby PM2K » Sat Apr 05, 2014 5:09 am

A new story by me.... for mature readers.


Return - by PM2K

Darkness.
You slowly become aware of it. Its textures. All encompassing. Heavy. Coccooning. Wet.
Out of reflex, you try to move, but find it difficult. It takes a few moments to realize you are suspended in something... something loose, yet thick.
You try to take a breath, but find your mouth and nose filled, packed with grit.
Smothering.... I'm smothering!
In a panic, you thrash blindly, and find the strange material resisting your motions, clamping down tightly on your limbs. You can barely move, as if buried in cement.
A memory flickers now. Dim. Fleeting. A sensation of being enveloped by something warm and slimy. Of sinking...
Quicksand!
You freeze in terror. Oh, God... I'm in quicksand... no... no, I'm under quicksand! Deep under...
You hear nothing, your ears as filled as nose and mouth. You again try to take a breath, but are unable to dislodge the grainy slime.
I'm drowning... you think... drowning in quicksand...

You force yourself to calm down.
Your reason takes charge, overriding the initial panic.
I'm not done for yet... I can still think... I can still move... I can still act!
You try to remember what to do... but recall what was happening in the moments as you first become aware of the situation.
Carefully, you move your right arm, slowly. You feel the limb begin to slide through the thick sandy ooze. Emboldened, you then move your left arm at the same rate. Soon, you are alternating arms, moving slowly upward.
As you move, you try and remember how you ended up here in the first place. Did I fall in? Or...

(being carried... strong arms...)

The memory flickers, just strong enough to leave a slight impression behind. Yet it lingers.
You put it out of your mind. Getting out of this deadly bog should be your only concern... escaping before you run out of air.
You lose track of time, lost in an endless ocean of wet sand. As you claw your way slowly upward, you become aware of an urge... a desperate pull urging you onward, something beyond the quicksand's sucking surface.

(a male voice, rich and rumbling... "Like you to meet... from Manila... studying..." Her laughter, musical...)

The sounds burn through your mind. Something else flares to life deep within you. Something fierce.
You feel the urge grow, become hotter... even though you cannot remember why. You only know you must continue forward and upward...

Then...
You feel your right hand burst free of the muddy slime you are embedded in. For a moment you flex your fingers in the warm, humid air, then stretch further, pushing more of your arm out...
You grin in triumph as your hand brushes against a branch of some sort. You grasp it, and pull... and pull... and pull... The quicksand is reluctant to release its prey, but you persist...
Gradually, you feel yourself rise upwards. Your left hand breaks through the thick muddy surface to join your right in hanging on to the branch. Your arms wobble from the strain, yet their strength never falters, and finally your head emerges from the sandy muck. You feel it flow thickly off of the crown of your head, over your face to slowly plop into the mire around you.
Struggling, you continue to haul yourself out, wallowing and wriggling like some prehistoric beast. Your shoulders emerge, then your back as you now lie prone on the wobbling surface. Close to solid ground now, you let go of the branch, lunging forward to grab handfuls of reeds surrounding the edge of the pit. The plants hold firmly, and using them as anchors, you claw your way forward relentlessly...

At last, your lower limbs emerge, oozing to the top of the sucking quicksand. Encouraged by the prospect of finally escaping, you feel a surge of new strength, and with a mighty heave, launch yourself onto the firmer ground, and away from the soft, clutching sand slime.
Free now, you rest on your belly, and slowly move your head around, getting your bearings. The large drooping trees, covered in ropes of spanish moss, evoke feelings of nostalgia, but no real memories.
Restless, you slowly rise to your feet. It is dark, save for a sliver of moonlight which casts a strange glow on your surroundings. Looking around, you see the slow rippling of dark waters in the distance.

(....bayou... out on the...)

Cabin!
The word explodes like a flare inside your head. A cabin... on the bayou...
You catch a glimpse of yellowish light, burning somewhere on the horizon. It draws you in, and before you are fully aware of it, you are already moving towards it... step by step...
It is hard to judge distances and time. You merely measure it out in slow plodding strides, your attention locked on the light. The landscape is wet and level. At times, you are aware of tepid water lapping at your legs, sometimes rising as high as your midsection, but you pay little heed.
In time, you can make out details of your destination. A well worn dock snakes into the deeper waters of the bayou. A flat bottomed boat is tied to it. You give this a sideways glance, then continue forward...
The cabin itself is well built of squared timbers, with a wide front deck, partly covered by the roof extending over it. The light burns from within, reflected behind the windows set within the cabin walls.
You stand still for a moment, taking in the sight. This place, this building are so familiar... You feel at home here. So...

(naked... writhing... pleasure... intense... wet... heat... insides twisting... clenching... deeper... slippery... deeper... so... friggin... TIGHT!)

The feelings are intense. Warm. Pleasant. And yet, there is an undercurrent of something cold and slimy beneath it... something...
A low moaning cry catches your attention. It reverberates from one of the screened windows, open wide in defence of the humid night.

The inner flame which drives you flares to life again, and burns fiercely.
You push your way into the cabin, the door giving way with surprising ease. The interior is simple, just as you (now) remember it. One large central room, two bedrooms, just around the corner down a short hallway.
You glance over the couch, the table, four chairs, all of wooden construction. The stone fireplace, empty save for one burnt log. Small, battery powered lamps provide the only light in the place.
All these facts you just know, just as you recognize the scraps of fabric lying scattered about the solid wooden floor. A pair of jeans. Shorts. A familiar golf shirt. A halter top.
From one of the bedrooms comes the creaking of springs, the wet slapping of meat and loud, animalistic noises. Memory stirs, and you recognize the sounds of vigorous lovemaking.
Quietly, you creep forward, propelled by a growing sense of anger. The light is dimmer here, reduced to a reddish glow. You hear voices, grunting and sighing, crying out names and obscenities in equal measure. The heavy atmosphere wheezes of breath.
Peering around the doorway, your vision fills with the sight. Two people, man and woman, naked and entangled, skin shiny with sweat and other fluids. He is on top, his hips pumping. She, beneath, has her legs and arms wrapped tightly around him.
You feel your anger grow, turn to rage. The girl is beautiful, even with her face distorted by intense pleasure. Her hair cropped short to just below her ears. Golden skinned, her limbs long and sensual, matching her frame.
The man is bald, his body buff... his skin dark, like oiled mahogany.... Once, it was you lying where the Asian beauty is writhing now... you are certain of it...

(It was you.... YOU ... clawing at his back, grabbing that hard ass, trying in vain to pull him deeper into you... screaming his name... you.... YOU.... not HER!)

... so absorbed by the wet, sloppy warmth of his companion enveloping him, he doesn't notice you...

(Suspicious... surprising him... seeing him... him.... your life, your world... with.... with her... her... HER!)

... doesn't see you as you get closer, your hands tensing into fists...

(Something SLAMS into the back of your head... you fall... the world twists sideways and you see them there, standing over you... his face one of grim purpose, hers twisted into a satisfied smile...)

Her eyes open and grow wide, focusing on you, peering over his shoulder. She clings to her (MY) lover, gasping incoherently. You feel a twinge of pleasure at the look of terror sliding across her face...
Seeing his hips continue to pump her, his bare ass clenching in effort, you find you cannot stand it any longer. You reach over and grab his bare shoulder, spinning him around while he is in mid-thrust. His expression changes from passion to anger to disbelief all in a mere moment, and if you could laugh, if you were in the mood for laughing, you just might have done so.
His mouth drops open, and he utters a strangled cry. He attempts to rise from the bed, but is unable to as her legs remain tightly clamped around his waist. Your anger becomes a fury as you can clearly see the two are still joined together...
With a clotted roar you spin around and strike him with the back of your hand, channeling all of your rage, your betrayal into the blow...

(...your vision blurs... ears roaring with blood... then the last sight of him... kneeling... bringing the small sledge hammer down...)

You are surprised to see his head come apart on impact, like a rotten melon. His naked form arcs away from the bed, and lands with a damp, meaty thud. Blood and chunky matter splatter the floor and wall, his legs and arms twitching madly before stilling.
You look down at the ruin of your former lover, feeling a vague tug, but little else, deep inside you. A weird, keening sound draws your attention back to the bed.
She is sitting upright, legs butterfly wide, her dark pubic area sodden and glistening, like her flesh. It takes time for you to realize she is screaming... her voice has become so high pitched, it doesn't sound human.
You look her over, taking casual note of her body... her breasts are average sized, and quiver in time to her trembling... Yes, she is pretty, yet you cannot understand why he would choose her over you.
It is then you notice her screaming has changed, becoming something more coherent. Her eyes are bulging, and she is trying to back away from you, pushing herself tightly against the cabin wall behind her.
Her mouth opens and closes rapidly, lips smacking together, wet with spittle.
You concentrate, trying to decipher the sounds... it is difficult, all the vowels are jumbled together, but after a few moments, it almost sounds like...
"OhJesusJesusJesusyouredeadyouredeadyouredeadyouredead..."
You pause, not sure you heard correctly. Leaning closer, you force another squeal out of her. She shudders, then suddenly falls silent, her eyes rolling up inside of her head.
You watch as she slumps against the bed board, and goes limp. Looking over the woman's form sprawled across the bed, you find yourself at a loss as to what to do next. You didn't mean to destroy your former (bastard!) lover... you just reacted.... but pondering it further, you find you aren't sorry about the outcome at all.
It is clear now, what happened. You found the two of them together, and he hit you, hard. Then, thinking you were dead, tossed you into that quicksand to get rid of...

(...careful.... bottomless... once in... never... out...)

...never dreaming you'd have the drive to escape the sandy grave they...

You stop suddenly, unaware you had been pacing about the cabin, and look across the small room. Slowly, you head towards a battered, yet sturdy, piece of furniture, drawn to it, like you had been to the cabin light.
You catch a glimpse of your reflection on the mirror resting atop the small dresser, and turn to look deep into its grimy glass. And stare. And stare....
A ruined eyeless face stares back. Corners of bone protrude from a shifting slime of mud and rot, strands of long clotted hair dribble thickly in clumps down from your scalp. Where your jaw gapes, jagged teeth are exposed. One side of your head is slumped inward, and shards of skull stick out at odd angles.
Strangely, the only reaction you have is wondering how you can see anything with empty eye sockets.
If you giggle, it is not audible.
A slow moan draws your attention. The naked girl is stirring, her eyelids beginning to flicker... Soon, she'll revive...

(hit her! Hit the bitch again! she's...)

You stare at her for a long time. It would be so easy to snuff her out... clamp a rotting hand over mouth and nose and smother her... feel her life slowly ebb as she struggles uselessly against your greater strength...

(HIT HER!)

...but no... No, there is only one way to end this... one proper way...

It is easy carrying the nude girl across the swamplands. Within your rotting arms, the girl seems to weigh nothing at all. She comes to when you are half way in your journey, and struggles hysterically, clawing helplessly against your iron grip. In a series of blows, she tears off part of what is left of your face, but you don't mind. You are far beyond such things mattering any more.
The woman screams as you toss her into the quicksand bog, its surface already disturbed by your earlier passage out of it. Her bare hips strike the thick surface with a wet smack. In her panic, she tries to rise, thrusting her hips forward, only to drive herself crotch deep into the quavering sandy mass.
"Oh, God, no! No!" she cries, struggling to extract herself from the gloppy death trap.
Thrashing, twisting, screaming, the woman drives herself deeper into the bog, which gulps down her frame with ravenous hunger even as it ripples thickly around her.
You watch quietly as the quicksand consumes her. It laps around her rounded hips and presses hard against her groin, creeps into her cracks, curves and crevasses, packing and filling...
It oozes up her body, plays over her mass of pubic hair, and drags her down... down... ever downwards...
You stare eyeless as her belly is swallowed, her narrow waist embraced, her ribs absorbed. Her cries are screeches, her eyes wide and rolling, flooding with tears.

She is chest deep now, her breasts bobbing half sunk into the wobbling gritty surface. The woman claws desperately, digging shallow, sloppy trenches into the dark quicksand, which relentlessly sucks her naked body downwards.
"I don't want to die like this! Please, God..." she cries out, the mire making wet slapping sounds against her flesh as she tries to stay afloat. The noise reminds you of the sounds of her and him rutting in the cabin...
The quicksand's suction is relentless. You know that all too well.

You watch as she is drawn down to her shoulders. Her breasts have been swallowed, reduced to shifting humps below the surface. Her pretty face turns to you. Her eyes.... her eyes have changed. No longer terrified of your undead appearance, she seems more afraid of being buried alive...
"Please.... help... help me..." she pleads, her movements slowing, as the weight and thickness of the hungry quicksand wears her down.
"I'll confess to everything... everything! I'll show the cops this place... I'll even take the fall for Ben... but just... please... PLEASE!"
You stare at her silently. Perhaps... perhaps if you were still human, still a living thing, you might feel pity. Maybe...
But you are not. It is far too late for you... and for her.
You sense yourself shaking your head, slowly, from side to side.

"No!"
She wails, a sound filled with terror and despair. Her shoulders vanish, engulfed by the shuddering quicksand which creeps around her neck, and laps at her arms, half sunk in the sandy slime. Her fingers curl, digging into the bog, as if trying to haul herself forward.
You watch, swaying slowly from side to side on rotted legs as the rest of her arms slip under, the gritty mire flowing to fill in the dents left behind. The quicksand presses under her chin, and laps at her earlobes. She continues to whimper, to plead, to beg... utterances all strung together into a slurred chain of sounds and syllables.

She spits and coughs, quicksand spilling into her mouth, and slopping up against her nose. She wrenches her head around in a final attempt to keep her face clear, but is unable to move much due to the death trap's density. All she succeeds in doing is make the surface ripple sluggishly.
Her mouth finally goes under, her last cries reduced to horrid gargling sounds as gritty muck fills her lowered jaw. Only her nose, eyes and forehead remain above the quicksand. The eyes are wide, her nostrils flare, and all around this shrinking island the sandy slurry churns, eager to swallow the rest of its prey.
You continue your vigil as the quicksand flows over her nose, forcing another series of frantic thrashings as she tries in vain to inhale one last gulp of fetid air. Her eyes bulge as her forehead melts into the heaving muck, then close as the quicksand flows over them, leaving behind a shallow dent, which shudders and bubbles as her last breath escapes her still thrashing body, sinking below...
To your surprise, her hands burst into view, clawing at the dank night air. Slowly, these also slip out of sight into the still heaving bog, fingers bent and wriggling.
You wait. You wait for the bubbles to slow and fade, the movement of the quicksand to cease.
You wait because you do not know what else to do.
In a few moments, or possibly hours... you have no way of knowing... it becomes obvious.
You head home.
Not back to the sands which once wetly embraced you, but back to the cabin, which you had fought so hard to reach. Back to the bed which was yours, once, before it was stolen... and you were driven to steal it back.
The light beckons, and as you trudge forward, you feel something within you, something approaching contentment...

User avatar
sinkwithme
Posts: 148
Joined: Mon Oct 05, 2009 5:29 pm
Location: Connecticut

Re: Return

Postby sinkwithme » Sat Apr 05, 2014 12:47 pm

Excellent! I love the fabulous imagery and descriptions of being consumed by the quicksand. And the beginning part about being under the surface. Thanks for sharing this!

water_bug_62208
Posts: 2128
Joined: Thu Apr 16, 2009 1:21 am

Re: Return

Postby water_bug_62208 » Sat Apr 05, 2014 11:21 pm

WOW! Damn, you're good! You are SO good! :D

I certainly do love your stories, and this one really came from a direction at least I haven't read before by any authors. And then it took a while to realize she'd actually been dead for some time.

This story certainly had intense suspense throughout, and your brilliant use of words to describe the action, situation, and flashbacks was most superb!

Thanks for sharing!

cnelson566
Posts: 484
Joined: Thu Apr 16, 2009 11:55 pm

Re: Return

Postby cnelson566 » Sun Apr 06, 2014 1:40 am

That's creepy as hell! Loved it!

quickbeard
Posts: 71
Joined: Wed Apr 22, 2009 2:30 am

Re: Return

Postby quickbeard » Wed Apr 09, 2014 5:11 pm

Nicely done. You are the master. :D

User avatar
nachtjaeger
Posts: 2843
Joined: Wed Apr 15, 2009 11:45 am
Location: upstate NY USA
Contact:

Re: Return

Postby nachtjaeger » Sun Apr 13, 2014 4:39 am

** bows respectfully **
This space for rent- advertise your product or service here!


Return to “Stories”

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest