Capitol Murder

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In my dream, I’m alone in my bedroom. The window is open and there’s a breeze, gentle, but ominous; cool, but foreboding. I’m dressed in nothing but a sheer full-length nightgown, white-always white-with a dangerously provocative dŽcolletage, my neck entirely exposed. I feel shivers coursing down my spine and gooseflesh on my arms. At first I think it must be the wind, but then I realize there’s something more, something lurking just outside my window. All I can see is a billowing fog, insubstantial, shapeless shadows that cross my windowsill and enter of their own accord. I am terrified, but at the same time exhilarated by my intense desire to know what will happen next.

When he materializes, he is barely two feet away. He stares down at me with eyes that are piercing, relentless, but also calming and nurturing. They invade me, deep down into my soul and I feel violated, swept away, breathless. I already love this man, this creature, his jet-black hair, his tall gaunt frame, his pale translucent skin, even his thin lips, slightly distended on either side. I give myself to him willingly, heedlessly, aching for his touch. He takes a step toward me, then another, never once moving his eyes from mine. After what seems an eternity of wanting, he lays his hands upon my shoulders. I want to scream, not from terror but from pleasure, from the sheer overpowering rapture of the moment. My knees weaken but he holds me firm, one strong arm around my waist, as his mouth draws close to me, nearer and nearer still, and his mouth descends with an excruciatingly sweet slowness toward my neck…

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