knight_marshall
Bluelighter
A Pile Of Hay.
Halfway to Hope.
She had been running for most of the night, desperate to put as much distance between herself and the townsfolk she had fled from. The dark branches that scratched at her face were just starting to become visible under the lightening sky, when she stumbled over a small wooden fence. Against the grey sky a barn stood before her, it’s sihouette both inviting and terrifying. Not wanting to be forced to run again, but exhausted enough to hide, she made her way into the barn and found a secluded corner full of hay to sleep on.
Hours later she was awoken by the rough voice of a surprised farmer. The language he used was foreign, but she could sense an air of mischief in his tone, and it sent a shiver down her spine. When she made no reply, his face softened, but his eyes remained the same, firmly focused on hers. He knelt down beside her, and reached his hand forward to run a finger down her cheek. As he smiled, and lent his leering face towards hers, the shiver shot straight back up her spine, into her throat, and forced it’s way out of her mouth in a momentary scream. He cut it off by clamping his own mouth over hers. She tried to struggle, but his calloused hands held her down while snaking around her body. As he shifted his body onto hers, she felt her life drain away. All energy rushed from her body, and she felt it collapse in resignation. She was powerless.
And then, suddenly, there was light. The giant barn doors flew wide open and the sun’s protective warmth charged straight into the barn. Initially she wondered if it was saving her, as it seemed to pick the rough male body off her own in an instant, but as her eyes adjusted from the gloom of the barn she could see a middle aged woman in an apron, standing in the middle of the square of light. As the man landed on his feet and turned, the middle aged woman broke her statue like state and started a purposeful walk towards the man. Something about her posture gave her the appearance of an animal stalking its prey, and as she reached the man it became apparent why. She unleashed a savage whiplike hand that made a loud clap as it slapped the man across the face.
Immediately they began to argue, or at least it appeared so. His voice seemed hesitant, scared and apologetic, whilst her voice was aggressive. Still laying on the bed of hay, but starting to regather her wits, the defiled woman could only attempt guessing at the conversation taking place in front of her. It’s aggressive nature was beginning to fall off, to be replaced by tones of curiosity, and she was just starting the feel slightly safe again when a word she knew all too well brushed past her ears and refilled her with dread. It was a word that she had run from in the past, that she only understood as something bad, and that she had only ever heard under hostile tones.
Her first instinct was to pray. She had run, that didn’t help, she had hid, that had been worse, and in this strange exotic land, she didn’t know how to fight. All that was left was hope, and she prayed that it was enough. She didn’t get to finish her prayer. The woman, noticing her for what felt like the first time, turned, thrust out an accusatory finger and hissed the word once again.
“WITCH!!”
The Farmers Wife.
The sun was just making its way over the horizon as she opened the curtains. A small cluster of birds that had been sitting outside the window were scared into a flurry by the sudden movement so close to where they fed. As they flew up through her vision, chirping in fright, she was reminded of how good it felt to be alive in such a beautiful and vibrant world. Sitting back on the empty bed, her husband had been up doing chores for hours, the wife contemplated life while staring through the window and into the clouds.
The Sun was twice its own height above the horizon when she finally decided to get the day moving. Walking from the bedroom to the kitchen, she began preparing breakfast. Taking the kettle to the outdoors well, as she left the house she saw her husband entering the barn to pack away his morning tools. Thinking the barn would be a nice place to give him a morning surprise, she followed. About halfway between the house and the barn an interrupted scream momentarily filled her ears. Dropping the kettle that had still been in her hands, she took steady deliberate steps towards the giant barn door. When she reached it, she paused. Knowing she not only wanted but needed to enter, yet being filled with fear at what she might see, the wife could feel a pang of stress in her chest that coincided with each beat of her heart. The was no mistaking that scream for her husband, or even for an animal. And there was definitely no mistaking it as a male scream.
Taking a deep breath, and squaring off her shoulders, she gave the door a mighty thump with the palms of her hands, and it swung wide open. From a pile of hay on the other side of the barn her husband suddenly appeared, jumping to his feet and peering, eyes squinted in her direction. Behind him on the pile of hay was a young foreign looking woman, her skirt pulled up around her waist and her blouse missing the top five buttons and flung open to expose her breasts.
The wife realised she was just standing there, starring, but the scene layed out in front of her was just that shocking. Her husband, standing dejected upon being discovered with a half naked woman. It was infuriating, horrifying, unbelievable. And yet he stood there, looking guilty, not even trying to proclaim his innocence. He almost appeared to be in a trance. Once again, taking carefully measured steps, she approached her husband. One step away from him and she let fly with a vicious right hand slap that she hoped would knock his head clean off. It didn’t and so she let fly with her secondary weapon, her words.
First she accused him of being unfaithful. He stammered out a denial, full of confused guilt. Next she proclaimed the pain she felt, and accused him of being a sinner. This time he stammered out a plea of ignorance. She changed her line of questioning. Better to lead him to telling her the truth. Better than asking him him these questions he is afraid to answer.
“Did you sleep with that woman?”
“No!”
“Did you try to?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Did you kiss her and feel her body?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anymore, ok?”
“Well what is that supposed to mean, ‘you don’t know anymore’? You did something out here. She didn’t end up looking like that all by herself, did she? Did she?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember, I can’t answer. I’m so sorry.”
“Well, one of you made this happen, and she looks a lot weaker than you do. So tell me, which of you do I blame?”
The girl on the hay stirred for the first time, and the wife pondered if she even understood what was going on. Then her mouth started moving, although she made no sound.
“Not me... I’m not to blame!” Her husband finally proclaimed, but the wife hardly noticed it at all. It had become surprisingly clear. Only one thing could trick her husband into being unfaithful. Only one thing could make him sin, and then rob him of the memory. And that one thing was still trying to make trouble, right now. It was the only thing that could make sense.
“WITCH!”
The Farmer.
Well, well, well, what have we here? A pretty little thing asleep in my hay. Must have snuck in during the night. Well, I’m not going to have no foreigners sneaking around my barn. She’ll probably try and steal my animal feed, maybe even some tools or a horse. Can’t have that. Going to have to wake her up and kick her out, and make sure she don’t come back. Hmm, she sure is a real pretty one.
The farmer knelt beside the girl, and spoke softly and sweetly into her ears, calling her from her sleep. She awoke with a start, and the brightest, most beautiful eyes the farmer had ever seen sat there starring as deeply into his own eyes as he found himself starring himself. She looked so lost, so innocent, so beautiful and so desperately in need of help, compassion and love. He felt compelled to touch her face, and as he did so he felt a joy untouched upon in years.
She is so beautiful. I want her. Can I do this? Yes, she want you too. Just look into those eyes.
The farmer leant in and kissed her passionately.
Wait. What was that. Ignore it. It was the passionate cry of our embrace. She wants you. Can’t you feel her body moving with your hands. Take her, she wants you.
He had managed to get her skirt up around her waist, and shifted his weight to keep it pinned there between their bodies. His hands caressed her skin, passionately learning her body, her curves, and softness of her skin, but he needed more. He ripped open her shirt. As her pale breasts filled his sight, the was a loud crash behind him, and light filled the barn, but instead of it’s warmth, all he felt were the cold eyes on his back. The shiver that passed through his body also stiffened it, and he bounced off the girl and onto his feet. He turned to face his wife.
Shit, shit, shit. What do I do. Did she see what happened? It’s pretty dark in here. She looks upset, shit, did she see? Here she comes.
She slapped him.
Shit. I’m done for. And she’ll tell the town, and my family. Shit, shit, shit.
She began riding the torrent of emotions had had put her through, and denial was all he had to hold on to, lest he be pulled into the same river. And then the light finally warmed his shoulders, as his wife asked him, calmly, for the truth.
She still believes in me. Wait, she thinks this is my mistress? Deny everything you fool, it’s your only hope. Deny and maybe you can still win. Deny it, and maybe she will. Deny it, deny it deny it.
“I’m not to blame.” He finally told her. It was his best bet. Her face changed, and he almost winced.
She’s been playing me to make sure. She’s got me, now I’m... wait, no... she believes it. It makes no sense, how could she be fooled. Wait, who cares, she’s buying it.
“WITCH!!!” His wife suddenly cried, thrusting her finger at the girl in the hay. The farmers entire body felt light and calm, and his muscles relaxed. He took his wifes hand.
“Go inside dear, I’ll take care of her.”
“Yes, yes that would be best, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, it would. Get some rest now, it’s been a traumatic morning. I’ll be inside in a while.”
Halfway to Hope.
She had been running for most of the night, desperate to put as much distance between herself and the townsfolk she had fled from. The dark branches that scratched at her face were just starting to become visible under the lightening sky, when she stumbled over a small wooden fence. Against the grey sky a barn stood before her, it’s sihouette both inviting and terrifying. Not wanting to be forced to run again, but exhausted enough to hide, she made her way into the barn and found a secluded corner full of hay to sleep on.
Hours later she was awoken by the rough voice of a surprised farmer. The language he used was foreign, but she could sense an air of mischief in his tone, and it sent a shiver down her spine. When she made no reply, his face softened, but his eyes remained the same, firmly focused on hers. He knelt down beside her, and reached his hand forward to run a finger down her cheek. As he smiled, and lent his leering face towards hers, the shiver shot straight back up her spine, into her throat, and forced it’s way out of her mouth in a momentary scream. He cut it off by clamping his own mouth over hers. She tried to struggle, but his calloused hands held her down while snaking around her body. As he shifted his body onto hers, she felt her life drain away. All energy rushed from her body, and she felt it collapse in resignation. She was powerless.
And then, suddenly, there was light. The giant barn doors flew wide open and the sun’s protective warmth charged straight into the barn. Initially she wondered if it was saving her, as it seemed to pick the rough male body off her own in an instant, but as her eyes adjusted from the gloom of the barn she could see a middle aged woman in an apron, standing in the middle of the square of light. As the man landed on his feet and turned, the middle aged woman broke her statue like state and started a purposeful walk towards the man. Something about her posture gave her the appearance of an animal stalking its prey, and as she reached the man it became apparent why. She unleashed a savage whiplike hand that made a loud clap as it slapped the man across the face.
Immediately they began to argue, or at least it appeared so. His voice seemed hesitant, scared and apologetic, whilst her voice was aggressive. Still laying on the bed of hay, but starting to regather her wits, the defiled woman could only attempt guessing at the conversation taking place in front of her. It’s aggressive nature was beginning to fall off, to be replaced by tones of curiosity, and she was just starting the feel slightly safe again when a word she knew all too well brushed past her ears and refilled her with dread. It was a word that she had run from in the past, that she only understood as something bad, and that she had only ever heard under hostile tones.
Her first instinct was to pray. She had run, that didn’t help, she had hid, that had been worse, and in this strange exotic land, she didn’t know how to fight. All that was left was hope, and she prayed that it was enough. She didn’t get to finish her prayer. The woman, noticing her for what felt like the first time, turned, thrust out an accusatory finger and hissed the word once again.
“WITCH!!”
The Farmers Wife.
The sun was just making its way over the horizon as she opened the curtains. A small cluster of birds that had been sitting outside the window were scared into a flurry by the sudden movement so close to where they fed. As they flew up through her vision, chirping in fright, she was reminded of how good it felt to be alive in such a beautiful and vibrant world. Sitting back on the empty bed, her husband had been up doing chores for hours, the wife contemplated life while staring through the window and into the clouds.
The Sun was twice its own height above the horizon when she finally decided to get the day moving. Walking from the bedroom to the kitchen, she began preparing breakfast. Taking the kettle to the outdoors well, as she left the house she saw her husband entering the barn to pack away his morning tools. Thinking the barn would be a nice place to give him a morning surprise, she followed. About halfway between the house and the barn an interrupted scream momentarily filled her ears. Dropping the kettle that had still been in her hands, she took steady deliberate steps towards the giant barn door. When she reached it, she paused. Knowing she not only wanted but needed to enter, yet being filled with fear at what she might see, the wife could feel a pang of stress in her chest that coincided with each beat of her heart. The was no mistaking that scream for her husband, or even for an animal. And there was definitely no mistaking it as a male scream.
Taking a deep breath, and squaring off her shoulders, she gave the door a mighty thump with the palms of her hands, and it swung wide open. From a pile of hay on the other side of the barn her husband suddenly appeared, jumping to his feet and peering, eyes squinted in her direction. Behind him on the pile of hay was a young foreign looking woman, her skirt pulled up around her waist and her blouse missing the top five buttons and flung open to expose her breasts.
The wife realised she was just standing there, starring, but the scene layed out in front of her was just that shocking. Her husband, standing dejected upon being discovered with a half naked woman. It was infuriating, horrifying, unbelievable. And yet he stood there, looking guilty, not even trying to proclaim his innocence. He almost appeared to be in a trance. Once again, taking carefully measured steps, she approached her husband. One step away from him and she let fly with a vicious right hand slap that she hoped would knock his head clean off. It didn’t and so she let fly with her secondary weapon, her words.
First she accused him of being unfaithful. He stammered out a denial, full of confused guilt. Next she proclaimed the pain she felt, and accused him of being a sinner. This time he stammered out a plea of ignorance. She changed her line of questioning. Better to lead him to telling her the truth. Better than asking him him these questions he is afraid to answer.
“Did you sleep with that woman?”
“No!”
“Did you try to?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Did you kiss her and feel her body?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anymore, ok?”
“Well what is that supposed to mean, ‘you don’t know anymore’? You did something out here. She didn’t end up looking like that all by herself, did she? Did she?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember, I can’t answer. I’m so sorry.”
“Well, one of you made this happen, and she looks a lot weaker than you do. So tell me, which of you do I blame?”
The girl on the hay stirred for the first time, and the wife pondered if she even understood what was going on. Then her mouth started moving, although she made no sound.
“Not me... I’m not to blame!” Her husband finally proclaimed, but the wife hardly noticed it at all. It had become surprisingly clear. Only one thing could trick her husband into being unfaithful. Only one thing could make him sin, and then rob him of the memory. And that one thing was still trying to make trouble, right now. It was the only thing that could make sense.
“WITCH!”
The Farmer.
Well, well, well, what have we here? A pretty little thing asleep in my hay. Must have snuck in during the night. Well, I’m not going to have no foreigners sneaking around my barn. She’ll probably try and steal my animal feed, maybe even some tools or a horse. Can’t have that. Going to have to wake her up and kick her out, and make sure she don’t come back. Hmm, she sure is a real pretty one.
The farmer knelt beside the girl, and spoke softly and sweetly into her ears, calling her from her sleep. She awoke with a start, and the brightest, most beautiful eyes the farmer had ever seen sat there starring as deeply into his own eyes as he found himself starring himself. She looked so lost, so innocent, so beautiful and so desperately in need of help, compassion and love. He felt compelled to touch her face, and as he did so he felt a joy untouched upon in years.
She is so beautiful. I want her. Can I do this? Yes, she want you too. Just look into those eyes.
The farmer leant in and kissed her passionately.
Wait. What was that. Ignore it. It was the passionate cry of our embrace. She wants you. Can’t you feel her body moving with your hands. Take her, she wants you.
He had managed to get her skirt up around her waist, and shifted his weight to keep it pinned there between their bodies. His hands caressed her skin, passionately learning her body, her curves, and softness of her skin, but he needed more. He ripped open her shirt. As her pale breasts filled his sight, the was a loud crash behind him, and light filled the barn, but instead of it’s warmth, all he felt were the cold eyes on his back. The shiver that passed through his body also stiffened it, and he bounced off the girl and onto his feet. He turned to face his wife.
Shit, shit, shit. What do I do. Did she see what happened? It’s pretty dark in here. She looks upset, shit, did she see? Here she comes.
She slapped him.
Shit. I’m done for. And she’ll tell the town, and my family. Shit, shit, shit.
She began riding the torrent of emotions had had put her through, and denial was all he had to hold on to, lest he be pulled into the same river. And then the light finally warmed his shoulders, as his wife asked him, calmly, for the truth.
She still believes in me. Wait, she thinks this is my mistress? Deny everything you fool, it’s your only hope. Deny and maybe you can still win. Deny it, and maybe she will. Deny it, deny it deny it.
“I’m not to blame.” He finally told her. It was his best bet. Her face changed, and he almost winced.
She’s been playing me to make sure. She’s got me, now I’m... wait, no... she believes it. It makes no sense, how could she be fooled. Wait, who cares, she’s buying it.
“WITCH!!!” His wife suddenly cried, thrusting her finger at the girl in the hay. The farmers entire body felt light and calm, and his muscles relaxed. He took his wifes hand.
“Go inside dear, I’ll take care of her.”
“Yes, yes that would be best, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, it would. Get some rest now, it’s been a traumatic morning. I’ll be inside in a while.”
