Thursday, August 29, 2013

SHIMMY KATE AND THE LORD OF THE FOREST.... hoochie dancer/killer meets a wolfman... 8/30/13

They got paths, little narrow routes forged by deer, or back in the days of Indians, maybe one cubit wide at the most. She find one. Kate find one and she run. Thorns scratch her legs. Leaves brush her face. Only in the dark they rat claws and spider-things. She wanna scream, but she don't. She wanna pee, but she a mammal and mammals know 'bout scent. Piss stink. An' she don't want leave no stink trail. Gotta slow down. Make it easier to hold her water. Then she hear running water. Little stream, like a brook or something. Sound real fresh and cool. Shoes wet. She in it, or at least her feet are. An' she can't hold it. She jus' can't hold it. Running water does that. Momma used to run the water at night before bed. Sit her on the toilet and go 'piss, piss, piss,' 'cause she don't want have to change them sheets so often. Kate stop. Drop her bloomers. Squat down and go 'ahhh.' Water wash it 'way. That a good thing. Dress stay dry 'cause she hike it up. Bloomers fall down and get soaked. Can't keep 'em, so she pull 'em off..... 'Sides, cooler that way. Maybe they 's a road? Maybe she can hook up wit' some bastid an' get away? Goofy bastids always lookin' for gals like her. Mus' be another county. This gotta be someplace else. But dark make little hike seem like long one. An' if you wanna know... they ain't no road.

Big ole centipede bite the back a her shoulder. They like tigers. They like bug tigers. Draw blood too. She feel it slide down her back... all they way... right between her butt cheeks. Make her shudder. Make her groan. She jump and dance an' pull her butt cheeks 'part til it gone. Hear it hit the leaves. Then she start to cry. But she can't stop, so she goes on.

After a ways she hear it... foot steps, but not crunchy like... Leaves don't crumble. Twigs don't break. Soft sound. Wild sound. Shoe-less sound. Kate listen. She listen real hard. Breathin'... She hear breathin'. 

Whatever it be listen back. It stop breathin' too. Now she wanna pee some more. But she don't. Maybe it a weasel? Maybe it a raccoon? Voice what talk in her head say it a ghost. She freeze. She tremble. She pee. What's-it pee too. But it different pee. Stronger pee. Sound different comin' out too.

Then it start breathin' again. Moves in a little. She pray. Please, God, don't let it be no ghost. Don't let it be no ghost a that trucker. God say - OK.... But jus' like in her head. She still. She real still. Like a lady in a Japanese fable what grow toe roots and become a tree.

Only her legs still legs, 'cause she feel it when a tongue start a kiss 'em...
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