1. A Scarred Wonderland


    Date: 8/22/2015, Categories: Hardcore, Author: MadMartigan, Rating: 18, Source: LushStories

    Chevy 5 rockets forward like an over eager virgin, sparks a rush of addictive adrenaline led by white-walled tires. I close my eyes and inhale the salty ocean spray as the cherry red pickup speeds along the coastal highway, the dying sun drenching the sky in pastel brilliance. I find the red button at my hip. The seatbelt clicks, releasing me from pointless bonds of safety. My eyes flutter open when the speedometer hits eighty-eight and I wish I could throttle back in time, course correct whatever horrible trauma I can’t remember suffering. But life’s a heartless bitch that enjoys kicking you back into the mud. It has no regard for what I want. I press harder on the gas pedal and the pickup roars in delight. Ninety-five. The steering wheel rattles. Lift-off. I’m blissfully free, nothing under me but a squishy leather bench and hunks of restored metal. I flick on the radio and a song crackles to life; a smooth tenor belts out a staccato lyric: “Buhbuhbuh-Bennie annnnd the Jeeeeetssss.” The truck swerves into the other lane. It’s liquid fire in my veins as the creature inside me spits awake, cursing in anger. I have to fight with the wheel to bring the Chevy back under control. The creature screeches until I get the radio turned off. I decelerate and pull off to the side. I’m a mess. My skin’s cold and clammy. I lose track of time until my nerves settle and I pull back onto the road. Out over the ocean the sun is a squished blood orange as it dips over the horizon. A ...
    supernatural heat starts to burn in my belly as I continue the rest of the way in unnerving silence. II. When the automatic sensors register the Chevy, small globes of muted silver flicker on in patterned pairs, illuminating the winding path up to the house in fuzzy light. I ease off the gas and the pickup coasts to a crawl. The breeze slicing through the cracked window is welcomingly cold on my cheeks and I can hear the natural, midnight tones of hooting owls and buzzing crickets drifting in through the trees. Their melody is a haunting dance. My foot jams the break pedal on pure instinct. I sit there, following the cones of pale yellow piercing the dark. I wait for something, maybe my Muse, fickle and fleeting, to get off her ass, to tell me what to do for once, instead of just directing the movements of a paintbrush. I’d be satisfied with a simple yes or no. Raised hairs. A pounding heart. Nothing. Not even a tingle. There’s just calm steadiness, like the body already accepts what the brain can’t. Or won’t. The trees murmur with rustling leaves as a silhouette with green eyes slinks quickly through them, staring right at me before dashing off. I wait for claws to reach through the window and tear my throat to a bloody pulp. Still nothing. Too many October nights spent curled on the coach with horror movies, wine and twizzlers my only companion until Grayson gets home. I let out a thin laugh that breaks into a snort and lift off the break. O/o\O When the Chevy eases around the wide, ...
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