THE KISS
Scott Grildrig
21-Mar-1994



The wind whispered about the trees that lined the road, tugging at their branches, causing the moon shadows to flicker and creep like scuttling claws. He pulled his heavy cloak about his shoulders, feeling a chill that was not born on the warm night air, but made in the sounds of distant creaking and the rustling of grasses. He moved swiftly, desiring only to pass through the darkness, wanting only to arrive to hearth and home.

Something flickered across the moon. He glanced up furtively, but that fell orb shone down through the twined branches of the trees, untouched by cloud or shadow. He looked back to the road, his heart thudding in his chest. With a sigh of death the wind ceased, leaving a dismal calm in its wake, a grim ethereal silence, but for the noise of his boots on the road. He felt as if he alone moved in the night, and all things with eyes were watching him, tracking him, displeased with the clamor of his passage. Something flittered past. He started, his head ducking and glancing about. Wheeling about in the sky above were countless little wings, fluttering and darting about the sky, silently tracing his progress through the night.

Then a low deep noise filled the night, coming from the left and behind, a grinding and a crunching as of some heavy and ponderous thing moving amidst the woods beyond the road. It's pace was slower than his, but it never deviated from its course or diminished, following him closely. His heart pounded harder as the great thing stalked him, filling him with dread until with a low cry he threw open his cloak and set to running. He flew down the old road like a terrified animal, following its turns and bends, praying for the next one to show him the lights of home.

And there it was, the lights of home, glowing warmly in the summer night a half mile away. He increased his stride, and in his heart he was already celebrating his redemption, when a shadow blocked the moon, stealing the moment.

Just scant yards ahead, the trees exploded, tumbling like towers, crashing into the road. He screamed and fell forward, rolling along the warm earth and slamming into a wall. Shaken and stunned he groggily lifted himself up, bracing his hand against the wall. And he froze. What he felt was not stone or wood, it was softer and slightly pliant, and smelled like leather. He looked up. It was a booted foot, a giant's foot, planted upon the broken trees as if they were weeds. The boot rose up and up, disappearing under the line of a vast black cloak. The material hung loose, unable to hide the generous curves of its wearer. His neck was bent back when he saw the face looking down at him.

It was a woman. Her face was beautiful, lit askance by the bright moonlight. Her eyes were wide, and glittered in the darkness, her lips were full and smiling, and even in the silver light showed red. Her hair was long and black, cascading down her shoulders in silken waves. She was haunting, mesmerizing. Her beauty transfixed him, held him. Her eyes never strayed from him, never released him. She raised her hands, and unclasped her cloak, letting it slip from her great shoulders. It fell heavily, raising a gust that washed over him like a cool draught. She was naked. Her colossal body shimmered in the moonlight, shadows emphasizing the supernatural rondure of her great breasts, the lean lines of her waist and hips, the enshadowed danger lurking between her thighs.

His body responded to the sight. Lust welled up within him, her body beckoned to him, teased him. Her eyes laughed at his puny size, dared him to try to attempt her. He began to pull at his clothes, tearing them off in a frenzy as though shedding the very core of his reason, until, naked and defiant he stood by her booted foot, determined to climb her if need be. But she was impatient herself, and bent down over him, enormous and irresistible. Her hands closed about him, caught him, trapped him. He writhed in their warmth, caressing her fingers with his small body. He felt himself rise, up from the road, up past her knees, past her lush womanhood, higher even than the trees, past her tremendous breasts, up and up until she stood, holding him in her cupped palms.

He stared at her wondrous face, smiling hugely. She stared back, letting her gaze wander freely over his tiny figure. And when her eyes returned, when she looked directly at him, she smiled widely, and bowed her head, as if to kiss him.

His mortal screams electrified the night, echoed and reverberated, ululated up into a cresendoing shriek and then down into a crashing silence. When she raised her head, her lips glowed an brighter red, staining even the bright daggers of her teeth. Her tongue lolled out, caressing and cleaning, tasting and savoring. She bent her head again, for a brief moment, finishing her ghastly feast. Then, casually, carelessly she cast her little morsel aside, bent down and lifted her great cloak, closing it around her body. The moonlight seemed to flicker, and she was gone.

Later, there came a rustling in the grasses beside the road, and a tiny dark form fluttered and skittered into the night sky…



...End...