From loveyoudivine's Dark Fantasy Anthology - Gremlins
* * * * * * * * * * *
A witch ensnares a simple hunter in a web of desire with musical enchantment. The hunter battles guilt and weakness while trying to hold onto the love of his bride and save her life.
When Monteh the hunter becomes trapped by Nagoi the witch’s enchantingly lustful song, he finds he must battle the guilt that threatens to overcome him while hiding his unwanted adultery from the wife that loves and trusts him. When he does find the courage to sever his vile relationship with the witch, he finds the task isn’t as simple as he had hoped. A dark sorceress isn’t easily spurned.
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-60054-229-9
Length: 11.000 Words
Genre: Dark Fantasy/ Erotica
Rating: Shooting Star
Price: $2.75
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The ache in his groin woke him up. He reached down and tenderly felt his testicles. They hurt, but nothing seemed to be broken.
He looked around. The failing light told him night had almost fallen.
The witch sat beside the stream. Her naked, sweat-covered body shone blue in the fading light, a cold color for a cold heart. He stood, yanking his pants up.
What happened? What did she do to me? The call, the music has never been like that. What have I done?
She stared into the stream as it gurgled between the stones on its path to deeper waters. “Do you now understand that you are powerless against me?”
Nagoi stood, turning her head only a fraction so that her profile stood outlined in the fading light. “Come when I call. Do as I ask and everything will be fine between you and your El. Ignore me and suffer the consequences.”
Her naked body stood in twilight and shadow, not moving. Only her shoulders, arms and upper buttocks shown with highlights in the fading light. Perhaps she waited for an answer? Maybe she expected him to argue? He remained silent.
With a stiff nod, she stepped into the water and followed the flow downstream.
He whispered a curse and vowed to never return, to kill her should he ever see her again. He spat into the leaves. Her scent clung to him, no longer a sweet smell, but a vile stench that needed to be scrubbed from his pores.
He turned toward home, back to El, tucking his shirttail into his britches.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Author Bio:
Bret Jordan has lived in Southeast Texas all his life. He is married and has four children, girls with an array of personalities that often boggle his mind. By day he programs computers and by night he works as a freelance artist. When not working, drawing, or spending time with his family he reads and writes stories of horror and dark fantasy. On summer weekends he can often be found running his motorcycle down the roads of East Texas. Visit him at www.bretjordan.com.
