At the End

He stood in the shadows, watching the hate flow between the humans. He’d been there for what they called a month. One after another, sometimes more than one a day, they picked each other off, spilling their blood into the ground. Senselessly. At first he thought there was a point to it. But no, there wasn’t. Not one he could determine anyway. They seemed to thrive on killing each other. 

He’d been there before. In fact, he was the one who’d suggested this little planet as a possible host to his kind. They were chameleons. Able to fit in anywhere. Anywhere peaceful. His brethren could never survive in the current atmosphere. The non-stop mindless violence would leech the goodness from their essence and they would perish in a slow and horrid manner. No, earth was no longer an option. They would have to find somewhere else to call home.

He turned, preparing to go, when he was noticed. The native yelled at him, calling him an old man, demanding to know what he was looking at. He spun about, pulling the weapon he swore never to use, not even in self-defense. Without the slightest pause to consider what he was about to do, he aimed it toward the voice and pushed the button, vaporizing the human instantly.

Nothing, he thought to himself. He was looking at nothing.

Great sadness filled his being. It was too late for him. Now that he’d done the unthinkable, he could never return to his society. He looked down at the weapon, still in his hand. It only took a few clicks to change the settings. It was their doing that his existence was over which meant theirs should be too. He pushed the button again. 

His crew, watching from space for his signal to begin transporting their people to their new home, suddenly saw… nothing.

© 2015 Barbara Huffert

Survival - A Tale

There comes a moment in every survivor’s life when they’ve had enough. They’ve been pushed and bullied so much that they quit thinking and simply react. Pure instinct that, in many cases has been suppressed far too long. Perhaps, had it not been, things never would have reached the levels they do.

My moment arrived last night. We were sitting there, same as always. Me attempting invisibility, him ranting and raving, out of control, beating me down any and all ways he could. Nothing new about that. On and on he went, ceaselessly. I’d given up fighting back so long ago he was beyond shocked when I stood. Instantly he tensed, ready for things to once again turn physical as if he relished the renewed opportunity. When I turned away and went for the recycling bin he was clearly disappointed.

He followed, berating me every step of the way for not putting it out sooner. Oh the things he said! No one should ever be subjected to things like that. No one! But I was. Continually, day in, day out. Had been for what felt like forever. I barely remembered a time when my life was different.

Most days that is. Last night, for some unknown reason I did remember. Just a brief flash but a memory nonetheless. From back when I used to smile. When I used to bother. When I used to care. I was nice back then. Decent. Kind. Generous. Confident. Alive. Nothing at all like what I’d let myself become. What I’d let him turn me into.

So last night I took out the recycling. And stood outside, barefoot and coatless in the sleet, staring at nothing on the pavement beside the bin. Staring longer than it took him to grab another beer. Staring long enough for him to worry that I would once again go looking for someone to listen who might finally expose him for the monster he was even though I’d given up all hope of that forever ago. No one ever believed me anyway, no matter what physical evidence I presented.

He came looking for me, demanding an explanation that I didn’t have. I didn’t answer, couldn’t answer for there was no answer. Just kept staring at nothing, frozen in place, paralyzed. Eventually he came off the porch to look for himself, shoving me out of the way but not quite far enough. No, not far enough.

He was griping as he turned to me. I was standing in a way that he couldn’t grab my arm as he normally did. That threw him off balance somewhat. I hadn’t planned it. Really, I hadn’t. It wasn’t something I’d even considered. Or thought of for that matter. But when he reached for me and began to say something even more hateful than ever, I did it. I just did it. Without thinking. Without even knowing exactly what I was doing. But did it I did.

He was so involved in gearing himself up to drag me back inside to pummel me he was distracted. He never saw it coming. The look of surprise on his face when I popped him dead in the throat with the heal of my hand was priceless. Oh did I pop him! Hard as I could putting years of pent up anger behind it.
The world went silent. I watched as he fell in slow motion. The force of my swing carried him backward. His feet got tangled. His neck bounced off the iron railing with such force I thought the railing might be knocked out of the concrete steps. He landed on the recycling bin. I didn’t miss the irony of that.

The gurgling was horrible and fascinating all at once. He seemed to want to scream at me, probably for spilling his beer which was draining against his shin. Bet that was pissing him off. I waited for his eyes to glaze over and the bubbles to stop coming out of his mouth before I went in to call for help.

By the time they arrived I was sobbing hysterically. Tears of relief but they didn’t know that. Since he always portrayed himself as doing absolutely everything, there was no question of them believing I’d been inside and hadn’t seen a thing. The coroner ruled his death a tragic, unfortunate accident. A combination of the weather making the pavement slippery and his being under the influence which caused him to slip.

Yep, an accident.

I’m finally free.

Do Not Try This At Home

It began innocently enough. An offhand comment made on a not so good day. A question tossed out by a friend. A few lines of discussion before moving on. Only my mind didn’t move on. No, it latched onto the snippet and let it roll round and round until it formed a complete thought. And once it had there was no way it would ever go away without being experienced. But it was wrong, so wrong, and I couldn’t possibly. Could I?

My friend and I met up at a club as we do on occasion. It was getting late and we were enjoying ourselves, making fun of those who were becoming desperate. You know, the last call for sex, not alcohol, crowd. I’m average, to say the least, nothing special to look at. I spend my life being invisible, drifting along, observing, absorbing, without ever really being noticed. Fine by me. I like it that way. I can always tell when the natives are beginning to get restless about going home alone because that’s when their attention focuses on me. It generally amuses me. My friend too. That night, however, there was one guy in particular who was being a flat-out, over the top jerk of untold proportions. He was truly pathetic in his attempts to secure me for his night’s entertainment. Not that I’m not worth that level of effort. I definitely am, just not without knowing a damn thing about me first.

Normally I would have blown him off, had a good chuckle over it with my friend, and forgotten him instantly. I might have, had that thought not still been lurking in the fringes of my mind. He was persistent, I’ll give him that. No matter how blatantly I ignored him, he just wouldn’t go away. His mistake came when he reached the height of desperation and offered me whatever I required if only I would accompany him home. That’s when my friend met my eyes and nodded. He knew what I was thinking and was encouraging me to go for it. Oh my, just the idea of it had my juices flowing, especially since I wasn’t alone in my desires.

I told the soon to be victim that I would go off into the night with him under one condition. That he made me come as soon as we were outside, before we got in his car. Agreed. With his mouth. Agreed again. So, with a quick grin to my friend, out we went.

There was a walkway beside the club that led to a small, unused patio. It was lit by a nearby streetlight but walled and secluded, perfect for what I had in mind. Lucky for me I happened to be wearing a skirt, sans panties which was pretty much the norm for me. Victim number one tried to kiss me but I was having none of that. I didn’t want him getting that personal with me and I was more than ready for what I’d requested.

There was a forgotten crate that was the perfect height. I nudged it so it was in the light, letting him think it was so he could get a good look at the way my pussy was glistening with wetness, supposedly from his impending attention. Actually it was so my friend, who had followed silently, would have a good view of all that occurred.

I parted my thighs wide and told him to suck my clit. I was feeling rather needy by then and wanted to get right to it. He didn’t even hesitate to fall to his knees and bury his face in my crotch. Surprisingly, his technique wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d expected. He licked, sucked, tongued and fingered me. Oh yes, very well done indeed. Of course the knowledge of what was to come may have had something to do with enhancing my excitement. I was whimpering, moaning, shivering. My pussy flooded, rewarding him for his efforts.

I looked up. My friend had stepped from the shadows and was watching us intently. The expression on his face, pure animalistic delight, pushed me right to the edge. He inhaled deeply as if scenting me. That did it. I was ready to come. So I slipped the tiny ice pick from the wide leather bracelet I wore as a sheath, a gift from my friend for protection when I went out. I ordered the jerk to fuck me deep with his tongue. As soon as he had it shoved all the way into my clenching pussy, his nose mashing my pulsing clit, I clamped my quivering thighs around his head, holding him in place. I leaned forward, gasping in pleasure as I grabbed a handful of his hair. The instant my orgasm rocked through me I lifted my arm and jabbed the ice pick into the base of his skull. I came so hard I thought I was going to pass out. Damn, it was so good!

And then, before I was fully alert, my friend was there. He extracted the pick and wiped it clean on the poor sap’s horrid plaid shirt. He pried open my thighs, letting my first corpse slump as he helped me to my feet. He straightened my skirt and I felt his hardened cock brush my hip. So that answered the second question. Watching was as much of a turn on as doing. After kissing me thoroughly, he slipped the ice pick back into its sheath and led me from the patio.

I’m sure there’s a lesson for everyone in this. Whether it be to watch what you say to your friends for you never know what they’ll take to heart or that you be careful who you approach in your desperation since looks can be deceiving I’ll leave for you to determine.