The Last Night

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The Last Night

Post by Atomic »

Hello, fellow Wasponians!

Some time ago, I wrote The End, based on the Vampire Girls adventures in their fatal services to death row inmates. As it turned out, the episode regarding a trial and execution garnered some rather bloodthirsty interest in what happened, since I moved past that part to the aftermath.

I had puzzled about how and what to portray, to fill in that gap in the story, and what follows fills that bill.

This tale occurs between part 13 here and part 14 here.

I will be updating those two part to connect to this posting.

Enjoy!
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Re: The Last Night

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The Last Night


Over a more than 40 year career, Fredrick Bartholomew Thacker had overseen six executions as warden of two different state prisons. He had quelled riots, preempted violence, neutralized gangs, and shared Christmas cards with more than two hundred prisoners who never returned to his care. Tomorrow, he dies.

Beneath the majestic and ornate stonework of the Bibliothiki, library and repository of the sum total of human written knowledge, lay a massive granite and basalt foundation, and deep within it, a cell. It was carved directly out of the slightly pink granite, and illuminated by a single torch, mounted high out of reach. Not at all cramped, it could have served as a loft or efficiency apartment. The walls were seamless, carved by some ancient skill or magic, to include the fixtures and bed – shelf? – where Fred Thacker sat. Trickling water spouted from above a sink in the wall, so that he could drink as from a fountain, or wash his face without wetting the floor. The water continued to a lower recess and swirl around a basin that served as toilet. The bed, larger than he really needed, was flat and solid and basically a raised section of floor. And there he sat, nude but for his glasses and a large gray woolen blanket, serving as cape and seat cushion. It didn't itch very much.

When sentence had been pronounced at the tribunal earlier that day, he said, “If this is the price for doing the right thing, then so be it.” The courtroom was silent. There was no cheering like in old Soviet show trials, no outbursts to curse or laugh at him, just the sound of the many people and species shifting in their seats. Phix, leading his defense team, shook his hand. He hugged his wife Elaine one last time, and he was passed to the care of his jailers. Two apotropaic sphinxes led him to a room where he surrendered his possessions (but for his glasses), and had a shower. The nymph attending the shower offered a massage, if he wished, and handed him a warm towel. He declined the massage.

“Well then,” she said, “Things will be a bit dull for a couple hours before dinner. What would you like? We can provide most any foods in any cuisine you desire.”

“I've always been fond of steak and shrimp at the Japanese places.”

“Done! Dinner will be served after sunset. You're free to enjoy the gardens until then.”

Gardens, indeed. Roses, orchids, hollyhocks, heather and hibiscus, flowers ranging from finger tip size and smaller to dinner plates and larger. Yew, holly, dogwood, pine, and more – on and on he wandered the paths to find yet another visual surprise around yet another corner. The pebbly paths were gentle on his bare feet. The slight breeze was easy on his bare skin in the warmth of the lowering sun. The two sphinxes trailed him at a respectful distance. They were not intrusive but he felt their presence.

“Dinner is served,” announced the nymph, who had returned to escort him. He had spent the last of the daylight sitting on a bench overlooking the rolling hills and forests stretching to the horizon. The sun set, and the sky was ablaze in orange and red clouds, then starting to fade into the blues and grays of twilight. It was time to go.

The dining room had an open wall overlooking the glorious sunset in the western sky. It was done in a lattice of beams and panels, each decorated with ink and watercolor landscape subjects, in a somewhat Chinese or Japanese style. A teppan table for cooking was centered in the space, and surrounded by six chairs. He was surprised to see several of his jurors there. One sphinx, both werewolves, a satyr and a dryad stood to one side as he and the nymph entered the room. All were in their basic form. Some wore pieces of jewelry but nothing else. The guards remained outside the room.

The dryad spoke. “You are free to tell us to leave. We want you to know that we salute your motivation and purpose for your acts, and regret having to have made a very hard choice. On this we speak as one. So said, it's not good dine alone. We offer our company if you would have it.”

“Why?” Fred asked. “What about me merits your interest?”

A werewolf spoke. “We were chosen for the jury because we all had had some measure of human interaction, and so a familiarity with your kind. Some by battle, some by trade, some by casual events. We do not presume to know you, but rather that the situation would not be purely academic.”

“As one who has done battle with humans,” continued the sphinx, “I recognize the skill and stamina of warriors. But as a sapient being, I acknowledge there is much more than that aspect to any other sapient. By the testimony and evidence, I was moved – shocked – that you would take such a risk for no possible reward, and for one captive to your authority. This is valor. It is why I – we – want to know more of you, if you would.”

Fred scanned their faces. There was no smugness, no disdain, no sneer like the face of a bully subtly threatening a helpless target.

“Ed Clarke was dying of pancreatic cancer. It's a horrible way to go. He came to me under the cloud of conviction and sentencing, and it was not my place to challenge that. But I do see the differences between a man in the flesh and a man in the paperwork. I had many years to observe this.” He paused to choose his words.

“In the end, I was satisfied that he was no longer the murderer who was sentenced to my care, if he was a murderer at all. My duty was to justice, and to be just, I should help him. The vampire program was the answer. But for it to work, I had to negate any chance of his possible innocence being discovered. So, my deception. That I regret any of this, it is that the discovery of my deceit led to attempts to revive Ed. I regret that misery being thrust upon him, and only that.”

“It is a warriors wish that if he die, he die well,” said the sphinx. The others nodded.

“And with the trial,” Fred continued, “I now understand the nature and delicacy of the pact. I have no ill will toward you that you would protect such an important thing.”

They were silent, shifting their weight and looking down or around the room.

“So, yes, I would be pleased to have your company at my last supper,” Fred announced. “I hadn't expected a nudist banquet, but I rather doubt this will devolve into an orgy!”

With that, it was introductions all around, and they went to be seated. The sphinx reverted to her human form, to better fit at the table, while the rest remained as they were. Japanese he asked for, and Japanese he got. The chef was a kirin (in human form), whose jade silk yakuta was iridescent under the white apron. The nymph served as waitress and kept the drinks flowing. The knives flashed, the meat sizzled, the sake warm, and the conversation light. The talked about vacation sights and whale watching. They reminisced about fine meals they'd had before, and taverns they'd been thrown out of. They talked about adventures, dreams, and history. And they watched the twilight fade into night in the western sky.

As the dinner was ending and all rose to shake his hand, the nymph stepped forward and put her hands on his shoulders.

“Oh dear! I can't let you leave like this,” she purred. “There's something on your chest.”

Fred looked down to see a single wayward grain of rice. She leaned forward and kissed the spot, then licked it, pulling him closer and trailing her tongue up his neck, until finally nibbling on his earlobe.

“There's still time for that massage,” she smiled, holding him tight to her chest. The dinner party giggled.

Fred smiled. “Oh darlin, age and injury have put many joys into my past. I have my share of happy memories, and I'd like to spend some time with them. Thank you though, for your offer. Besides, back rubs and a full tummy don't go together well.”

“I wasn't thinking about your back,” she pouted. Everybody laughed.

So then farewells, and he was seen out of the dining room to the two apotropaic sphinxes who led him to his cell. And there he sat, in his gray blanket, to the sound of trickling water and the flavored burps of a fine meal. He thought of his wife Elaine, he thought of Ed Clarke, he thought of compliments he'd received, he thought of things he wished he'd done better. He was grateful for a good meal and fine company. He was grateful for having had a happy life. He was grateful for having helped others. He was grateful for having fulfilled his duty – to his family, to his friends, to his staff, and to his wards.

He was lost in reverie. How much time had passed? He was starting to get tired. Perhaps it was time to sleep. He began to lie down and arrange his blanket when he heard to cell door open. He sat up again and watched a nude, athletic looking woman with dark hair walk toward him. He stood up, leaving the blanket behind him on the bed. She stopped a few paces away, her eyes downcast. She held her arms down, hands clasped in front of her.

“I am Pelieu. I am to see you prepared for your death tomorrow.”
Last edited by Atomic on Sun Nov 13, 2016 8:04 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Re: The Last Night

Post by jwhouk »

Nice start.

I think this was where I briefly referenced me wandering into the Library portal - only to discover that it was "temporarily closed."
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Re: The Last Night

Post by Atomic »

“Hello Pelieu, I am Fred. How would you prepare me for tomorrow?”

She was slightly shorter than him, with a thin, solid build but not overly muscular. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders. With her tawny skin, she could pass for Polynesian.

“I am a succubus. Tomorrow, I will be part of your death. I am to corrupt your mind and sustain your life as long as I can. But tonight, I am to learn of you, and provide you whatever comforts you desire.” She continued looking at the floor. Her voice was flat, calm, and soft.

Fred found his eyes wandering over her body. The events at the meal had made him comfortable with social nudity, but this was more personal, more intimate. He had no place to retreat. Worse, though prostrate surgery long ago had ended that part of intimacy, he felt himself responding. At least, trying to. He tried to turn his mind away from that, but the shine on her hair, her skin in the torchlight, the brown areola, trimmed fuzz, long legs, all drew his attention and all conspired against his neutrality. He shook his head and took a deep breath, but it got worse. It was her scent. The sweet intimate musk that followed her into his cell, and was slowly filling it. There was no escape. He sat down and drew the blanket over his lap.

“Please,” she said, “I am not trying to defile you or injure you. That is not for tonight, and I regret that it is for tomorrow. But that is tomorrow and this is now. Please let me comfort you. What would be is to be of your desire, not mine.” She raised her eyes to his lap. She was aware of his distress.

Should he believe her? She was in the audience at the trial. He read the faces of the crowd as he had read the faces of the prison yard – the hustlers, the burn-outs, the toughs and the rioters. He had learned well the skills to deal with others – flattery where needed, or condolences, sympathy, firmness – all had their place, all had their uses. He remembered the angry faces and the sad ones. Some were neutral, some changed tone over the course of the trial. He remembered her as neutral, gradually becoming sadder and sadder.

“Permit me to show you something, that you may learn.” She lifted her head and looked him in the eyes. Those eyes. Pupils wide open, surrounded by a thin golden iris, as framing a gate into the depths. Black, deep, endless, mesmerizing – he stared and felt as if he was drifting, carried, swallowed into their depth. The pale pink granite walls changed to a twilight blue sky. He wasn't sitting on a blanket, he was sitting on warm sand. The trickle of water was now the nearby swirl of gentle surf. There was a light breeze and the smell of flowers. There was the warmth of her breasts on his back. Her legs straddled him from behind. Her arms held him, curved under his arms, her hands turned back to rest on his shoulders. He felt Pelieu's warm breath on his cheek and her chin on his shoulder.

“Do you remember this place?” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. But it was not flat anymore. He felt emotion in her words.

“Yes. It's Maui. Elaine and I had our honeymoon here.” The evening moon was low on the horizon.

Fred took some time to absorb what was happening. He decided to trust her.

“What will happen tomorrow?”

She inhaled, paused, and let out a sigh. She held him closer. Her gold eyes stared at the horizon. “In the morning you will be given a laxative to clear your bowels. I'm told it's rather gentle. When you are emptied, you will bathe, and then have the day to use the Bibliothiki. You may pray, meditate, wander, study – whatever you desire, but you will not be permitted to harm yourself. At midday, you will be taken to your execution.”

“Sounds good, so far.”

“The verdict and authorization will be announced, and you will be placed on the table – a frame really. Two wooden rails and two cross pieces. One at the small of your back, one under your shoulders, your legs down the sides.” She paused and swallowed. Her voice was becoming uneven.

Fred crossed his arms over his chest to hold her hands, and hug her arms with his. She swallowed again. Now she looked down at the moonlit sandy beach.

She used her thumbs to point to the hollow under the collarbone just inside of the shoulder muscles. “Spikes will attach you to the table through the shoulders and ankles. Your throat will be opened so you have no voice. And so until sunset, you will be consumed by anyone however they please. The wounds will be sealed by fire to stop bleeding. And I will be there to corrupt your mind. This will continue until there is nothing left but your breath and your heartbeat. Then you die.”

He felt her wet cheek on his. She was crying.

“How would you corrupt my mind?”

She sniffed. “As you are seeing now...” She choked on her words. “As you see now I am in your mind. We physically sit upon your bed in your cell, but I make you see this place. All this is your memories, your dreams, your desires, but I can do much more. I can draw them out, I can shape and influence them. I can even inflict my own upon you.”

Her voice was cracking.

“I am to corrupt your mind by drawing forth every nightmare, every shame, every embarrassment, doubt, failure, anguish you've ever known, and use them to amplify the misery. I am not to let you die until it is time – after your flesh has been stripped to the bone, when there is only just enough to keep your brain alive – and then crush you. I am to be your executioner.” She sobbed. She hugged him.

He turned within her arms as they sat, coming around to face her, and held her, head on his shoulder again. He could feel her hair wafting across his face in the light breeze. He drank in the smell – the musk – of the flowers. Her flowers. Her warmth. Her touch. Her cheek against his. The rise of her chest as she breathed. Her fingers grasping his back, and he hers. It was as if he was twenty again, and had never had the surgery. He was awake and alert as he'd ever been in his life. His heart pounded with each breath. The moon was nearing the horizon.

“But I will not do this.” She sniffed and hugged even tighter.

“Why?”

“Because I knew Ed Clarke.”
Last edited by Atomic on Sun Nov 13, 2016 8:06 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: The Last Night

Post by Atomic »

“You knew Ed Clark? Did the tribunal know this?”

“No.”

“And if it is found out?”

“I don't know.” She looked down. “I will be held accountable. And with the end of my days, I will answer for my sins.”

“Interesting. How can a succubus sin?”

He drew back and held her hands. They looked into each others eyes.

“I am flesh and blood and magic. My food is fruit and flesh, but also emotion. What better place than prisons to find emotions, passions, running high and wild? As a specter I drifted among them and had many a good meal. In doing so I felt the minds of those feeding me, and found horrors, debauchery, vengeance, and desire. It was easy hunting. I didn't have to go deep into their minds to trigger a meal. I didn't want to stay either, because the environment was so depressing. Then I came across Ed.”

She drew back and arraigned herself on the sand, hands on her lap. Fred did the same.

“He was impassioned, but for different reasons. I was curious so I lingered. I took the time to look into his mind and see where that passion came from. His desire was to remember his family. I saw that he was trying to draw them, so he was trying to remember them. So I helped. I would visit from time to time, and help him dream, I would dig out joyous events from the recesses of his mind, so that he could remember the color and sparkle of her eyes, the shimmer of her hair, her laugh, the small scar on her cheek, her crooked finger she broke as a child. Her moles. Her earlobes. Her manicure. The fold of her clothes. On and on, and for his daughter too. And with those freshened memories, he drew, and he painted.”

She paused. Her eyes were drying.

“In my long existence, humankind have simply been a source of food. They've been of no interest to me beyond such as a honeycomb to a beekeeper. If their passionate, they're food. If they're not passionate, make them so and eat. That's it. But Ed drew me into his life, and at the end, I knew and understood what you and he were doing, and why. So I petitioned to be your executioner, and that duty was granted to me. The succubus on the jury could not be so because of her service. And for all I am to do to you, I won't.”

“What, then?”

“My place is at the head of the table, to hold you between my breasts, to cradle your head, and to walk through your mind. Instead of corruption, I will hold you tight to my bosom and bring forth every joy I can find in you. Whatever agony is put upon you, I will make it delight, a pleasure, a bliss. All that I can for as long as I can until there is no more of you to sustain life. At that point you must die. But I will not drain it from you. Instead, all the pain I kept from you will be released as a single strike, as a mountain boulder crushing a house. You will have a massive stroke. It will destroy your brain in an instant, and so your spirit will be freed to it's fate. What remains will be consumed, but you won't be there. It is all I can do.”

She looked toward the horizon again. The moonlight flickered on the gentle waves.

“You asked how I sin. My life is of oaths and promises, duties and obligations. Such is the currency of my kind. That I violate them is to curse myself. And that I petitioned to be your executioner, I did so with full intent of shielding you. So I sin.” She paused and took a few breaths. “But I didn't attend the trial with that in mind. I heard the testimony and evidence. I remembered your treatment of Ed Clarke. I knew that I helped bring joy to his life, not merely absorbed it from him. And then, after the verdict, I heard what you said: 'If this is the price for doing the right thing, then so be it.'”

She turned to face him. “There I decided. I choose to make my life anew, that I not be a parasite, but a builder where I can. That I might help inspire. That I might help soothe the miserable. That at the very least, I could comfort the dying. I decided to comfort you, because now I had a duty. Now I have a purpose.”

“So you would be a muse?” he smiled.

“Where I can.” She smiled back. “Yes, it's vain and I have much to learn, but who can do anything but that they start doing?”

Fred reached out to hold her hand again. She squeezed back. “The journey of a thousand miles,” he said.

“Yes. And if I am found out, so may I die well. I will pay the price for doing the right thing. And may some tiny part of the world be better for the attempt.”

They spent some time sitting quietly on the sand. Fred turned around and lay down beside her. She shifted and lay down beside him. They looked toward the setting moon.

“Did you have anything good to eat on your honeymoon?”

“Yes – shrimp tempura. It was so tender it just about vanished after you crunched the shell. There were some great wines as well.”

He noticed a new scent – the smell of food. Off to his side was a tray on the sand, with a platter of tempura and a bottle of wine with glasses.

“All this is your memory. Let me be Elaine for you, and I will be. Let me wander your mind that I may know your joys to share tonight, and so I can protect you tomorrow. Whatever may please you, I will be. This is your night, and your desire.” Pelieu put her hand on his chest.

“Permit that you not defile the memory of my wife with false memories. Let me keep to my faith and my honor, such as it is. Go wherever you need in my mind while I sleep that you may be prepared. Let me have honest rest tonight.” He held her hand.

“Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you die.”

Fred gazed into the dark sky. The setting moon was orange, silhouetting clouds on the horizon.

“Do your duty,” he replied.

Pelieu rolled to her side and snuggled next to him, placing a knee over his thigh, and her arm across his chest. He shifted his arm around her to make his shoulder a pillow for her head. He held her hand. Together they drank in the starlight.


The original story continues here. Enjoy!
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Re: The Last Night

Post by jwhouk »

(applause)

Bravo.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
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