There is 1 message in this issue.
Topics in this digest:
1. [DL-J] Unpleasantness in the Tavern
From: "Mel Mason" <goldfired@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
Message: 1
Date: Sun, 6 Nov 2005 10:33:26 -0000
From: "Mel Mason" <goldfired@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
Subject: [DL-J] Unpleasantness in the Tavern
The Stuck Pig Tavern
Cabral
Morning, Day 2
Sometimes, like last night in the tavern, people had been full of news
and
discussion. She hadn't listened. Sometimes days went by when she
didn't
listen at all, drifting inside the silence she could make in her own
head.
It was peaceful there - not like the tavern, where arguments and
discussions
could gone on uuntil so late at night that she was no longer sure
whether
she was awake or asleep, but only knew that she ached ... oh, how she
ached.
Days went by. How many? She wasn't sure. It was hard to keep count,
when
the days ran into one another. Scrub the floor. Clean the plank that
served
as a counter. Eat what scraps she could. Drink the heel taps left in
tankards - if ever there were any. Wash things with the burning caustic
cleaners that hurt her hands so much. Get beaten.
Yes, days were all similar.
Only sometimes ... there were moments ... minutes ... like this.
When she had come out to wring out the filthy drying cloth, and a
sudden
beam of early sunlight had found her in the grimy inn yard. And she
stood,
her face lifted up to the sun, her eyes closed, feeling the warmth of
it on
her bruised and battered face like a caress.
She drew a deep breath - and then opened her eyes, breathing deeply to
catch
the scent of the sea.
"Stupid! Stupid! Where's that lazy useless good for nothing cow?"
Her head dropped forward. Pig-man. What did he want now?
The moment of happiness faded as she turned and slowly shuffled back
into
the tavern.
Pig-man was there, in the open room. He was sweating a little, although
the
room was cool and, although she did nothing so dangerous as raise her
eyes
to look at him, she was aware that he was not looking at her.
"Over there," he said thickly. "Over the bar ... there."
She shrank slightly. She knew what this meant - one of two things. A
strapping ... for some infringement or other ... a strapping that would
leave her red and sore for days.
Or worse. He would want to use her ... to take her like an animal to
gain
himself a physical release. And that was worse of all ... because as if
that
degradation was not enough, afterwards he would be enraged that he had
needed a thing he held in contempt. He would despise himself for his
weakness ... and take it out on her with blows and kicks. Last time he
had
half-killed her. This time - perhaps he would finish the job.
She let out a faint whimper - then saw him unbuckle his belt, heard the
slow
swish as he pulled the leather through the cloth ties ...
A strapping then. She could endure a strapping.
He slapped the belt on the table next to him.
"Get to the bar, Stupid! Bend over!"
She hurried to obey now, her left leg dragging. She bent forward and,
without being told, raised her ragged skirts. She wore no undergarments
....
she could feel the cool air of the room on her thin, bruise-mottled
flanks.
~Quickly, quickly!~ she thought, as she reached forward to grip the
wooden
edge of the bar. ~Get it over with!~
And then she head his voice, thicker than ever.
"Spread your legs, useless *****."
No! It wasn't fair! She had done all he asked ... She let out a low
moan of
fear as she heard his heavy steps, as she heard his panting breaths as
he
fiddled with the fastenings on his breeches. She clung harder to the
bar,
looking down at the shelf below with eyes that swam with tears.
Afterwards ...he would kill her for sure.
She drew a deeper shuddering breath as she felt the coarse material of
his
opened breeches against her skin ... his loosened ****rt flapped on her
bare
back. She blinked, and a tear hit the ****ny blade of the knife on the
shelf
.... even as her whole body was jerked forward by the first of his
grunting
thrusts.
Knife ...
How it sparkled as she lifted it up.
She stared at it in fascination for a moment.
And then it was gone.
He grunted again ... another thrust.
And another thrust ... from a different source.
This time he let out a thin, high wheezing sound ...
She twisted the knife hard. Her hand was becoming slimy and sticky on
the
knife; she could feel the hot blood gu****ng over her hand, her arm, her
side. It was surprisingly warm ... and she could smell it too in the
air ...
She dragged the knife crudely up - down - from side to side, as far as
she
could, until hard bone stopped her in every direction. And Pig-man was
no
longer thrusting - he was writhing on her back like the disgusting hog
he
was. He was cru****ng her ... her ribs would give way ...
Something slithered out over her hand, soft and wet and horrible. With
a
tremendous revulsion and a strength she did not know she possessed, she
pushed herself up from the bar ... and heard the crash as Pig-Man fell
backwards, into tables and chairs, splintering them into kindling.
She turned, breathing hard, and saw him twisting and flopping on the
floor
like a landed fish. His side was slimy with thick red blood ... and
there
were things sliding in the blood too .. not just blood soaked clothes
....
but things that should have been inside not out - and they steamed in
the
cool air. His eyes were open, staring up blankly ... and from between
his
lips, a thin, high keening was issuing - not so very different from the
squeal of a stick pig.
His eyes ... they gazed at her in terror. And that should have felt
bad. But
it felt good ... like the night she had found half a tankard of ale
left and
downed it all in two sweet gulps. He shouldn't look at her like that
....
while his chest rose and fell ...
He should be dead! He should ...
It was the hot jet spurting in her eyes that brought her to herself.
She was
kneeling on Pig-man's chest, and the blood had spattered her from the
ruin
of his throat. Blood was still gurgling out ... a slow fountain jerking
up
.... and falling into a thick glutinous pool on the floor she had
scrubbed so
many times. The only sound was a dripping ... and her own ragged,
chest-tearing breaths.
And then ... a knocking. The door.
She looked up with a gasp,
Of course. It was nearly time for them to be opening the doors. The
lunch-time drinkers ... an early one was already knocking ... and she
....
was drenched with Pig-man's blood. Even if she hauled his carcase out
of
sight ... there was the blood on her - the blood on the floor.
She rose, standing up with a speed she hadn't realised she possessed.
Water
.... in the yard. She'd clean herself ... pretend she came in and found
Pig-man dead on the floor. Perhaps ... they might believe her.
She was in the yard ... the pump was not far. And then she heard a step
- a
gasp. And she whirled to see two men, strangers, standing in the yard
and
staring in shock at the crazed figure of blood-boltered Stupid.
Summary:
When the tavern owner takes the drudge by force, she kills him and
tries to
make her escape, only to be surprised by two strangers.
Respectfully submitted by
Mel
Player of
The Future Charis and Myriad
|
