It took him a while before he realised what
it was. It had caught his eye as he padded through the soft undergrowth.
Initially, it was just a flash of white in his peripheral vision but as he took
a couple of steps back and looked more closely, intently, it dawned on him what
She lay there still, naked, covered sparsely
with fallen foliage. At first he wasnt sure if she was asleep but as he
got closer it became clear that the figure that lay before him was dead. He
looked around and seeing that he was quite alone, approached the body with
caution, tentative steps at first and then more assured as he got nearer and
the form took proper shape; definition creeping in. He saw that she was young,
slim and dark, not dark skinned but dark featured; her face peaceful with no
sign of trauma save for a deep red mark round her neck.
He was shocked initially but once this
feeling subsided he began to grow more relaxed and confident in her presence.
She looked so peaceful lying there, and brushing her long hair away from her
face, he realised that she was in fact quite beautiful. He didnt know
what to do. His head told him to run, run to the nearest house and raise the
alarm. Still, another part of him urged calm; stick around, gaze upon this rare
beauty. He was sure, convinced, that he had never been this close to such a
beauty. He could report his discovery later. But that was just it. It was HIS
discovery, his prize and he didnt want them, the authorities, swarming
around her poking and prodding. She looked at peace just now. He wanted to
enjoy that peace and inhale her beauty.
He sat down next to her, slowly and quietly,
as if not to disturb her. He knew it was stupid but he felt a certain amount of
reverence towards this form that lay so still, so perfect on the soft moss. He
created what he thought was the likely identity of the young woman. He gave her
a name, an occupation, passtimes, career, the lot. He attempted to breath life
into the figure again by making her seem more real, removing her cold
After about an hour of sitting, staring and
imagining, he gingerly reached out to touch her upper arm. He drew his fingers
back, quickly, the chill of her body shocking him. He reached out again, this
time prepared for the cold. Once used to this he became emboldened, running his
hands up and down her slim arm. Eventually, confidence growing with every
touch, he put his hand behind her neck and gently lifted her head from the
ground. Her hair stuck to the clammy undergrowth and, using his other hand, he
pulled it out from behind her head, spreading it out above her. Placing her
head gently back on the ground, he admired his handiwork. He fixed a few hairs
here and there but when he was finished he took a step back. Her hair fanning
out behind her, catching now and again in the wind the wafted through the
woods, he thought she looked almost alive, the wind imbuing her once more with
life. His touch, he decided, was making her more animated, more alive.
He had never been this close to a naked
woman, never mind one so beautiful. He longed for her touch but what she could
not give, he decided he had to take. He looked around again; no-one about but
he wanted to ensure that they had their privacy, Nicola and he. He noticed a
small, secluded copse not far away and gently taking both her ankles, he
dragged her through. He couldnt look at her as he did so, feeling that he
was treating her beautiful form with casual brutality but it was necessary if
they were to have the privacy he craved.
After he had got her in the position he
wanted, her arms back down by her sides, hair fanning out around her head, he
stopped and contemplated what he was about to do. He knew it was wrong. Not
just wrong, but sick he knew that but still, he craved the contact.
Looking the way he did and lacking any kind of social skills, this might be his
only chance. She hadnt been dead that long after all; rigor mortis had
not yet set in and her skin, although cold, was still soft to the touch.
Determined not to be a coward for once in his life, he started to explore her
body with his hands; every inch, every crevice was touched, stroked and
He felt a charge rush through his body, a
feeling that was alien to him; he felt dizzy, light-headed yet invigorated. He
started to take his clothes off, whispering what he imagined were seductive
phrases to Nicola. Slowly, gently, he lowered himself on top of her with all
the style and panache of a teenage virgin. It was difficult at first but once
he was in, he lost all sense of self-consciousness and imagined himself the
last of the great lovers. He ad-libbed her groans to match his. At first he
felt stupid but gradually he got lost in his macabre love scene. He placed,
with difficulty, her arms around his waist and imagined that he was her only
one, the one she had waited all her life for and now, in these dark, dank
woods, they had found each other.
When he was done, he got off immediately,
all the passion suddenly evaporating with his release. He was ashamed,
disgusted and terrified. What had he done? What had he become? He knew it was
by no means normal but still, on reflection, he felt that he deserved it, was
in some way entitled to it. Years of rejection had been leading to this point,
the point where he had possessed the most beautiful figure he had ever seen. He
had had no choice. What was expected of him? A life of celibacy, never knowing
what it felt like to taste anothers body? He looked down at her again,
lying as still as she had before. His manipulations of her body during the act
had convinced a part of him that she really had been reanimated by his
lovemaking. Now? Now she was as she had been. Cold, pale, like the
clichéd porcelain doll.
He hurriedly put his clothes back on as
reality started to flood back into his mind and bring him back to the here and
now. He was a freak. He knew that but still, he felt like a great conqueror who
had taken the love of such a great beauty. A Don Juan of the dead.
He bent down and kissed her cheek and
whispered gently in her ear, Same time, same place tomorrow