True Story
So get this. Over the summer, my brother Theo and I decided to go camping as soon as my BA dissertation was handed in. It was three weeks overdue and I was still writing the damn thing.
Unsurprisingly, Theo throat-punched and man-handled me into the car, wherein I was followed by a 17” laptop, landing as gently as a Frisbee on my eyebrow.“You’re writing it there,” he stated. “I’m not waiting indefinitely for your drunken, procrastinating ass to complete a stupid dissertation.”
Theo had invited many of his friends to join us, and since everybody thinks I’m awesome and a joy to be around when I’m drunk, nobody came.
Soon we entered Polis (our camping destination) and as always we cracked the windows to let the fresh rural scent of goat-poop fill our lungs.
Slowing down, we eased into the county road that led to our favorite spot. Gravel and dirt ground gently under our hot tires, the smell of eucalyptus trees was fragrantly pleasant and the wind swam playfully through rustling leaves. Magic surrounded us, leaving us breathless, when out of the green, a woman appeared in front of our car, screeching us to a halt. She wore a shabby red dress, raven-black hair covering her pale face, and was walking very, very slowly — almost zombielike. Disregarding us completely, she continued crossing the road for what felt like a bazillion light years. Theo banged impatiently on the horn. Without batting an eyelid she turns and stares at us. My blood ran cold, curled up and died right there. That woman was the scariest woman I’ve ever seen in my life, including fictional accounts. Her stare was so intense and yet completely vacant, one felt like looking inside a black hole: completely oblivious, scared shitless and unable to react or breathe. If the eyes are indeed a reflection of our souls, she had none!!!
We waited until she decided to let us pass. Once again she was out of sight.
“Oh my god!” I exclaimed in relief. “Did you see her eyes?”
“That was some crazy shit,” Theo replied, and went on to imitate her blank stare, directing it at me with a side of crazy-smile.
“Stop fucking about. That was scary as shit...”
“I want to know what kind of drugs she took,” Theo said.
“I want to take the drugs she took,” I laughed, trying to imagine the drug cocktail that could turn one into the daughter of Satan but I couldn’t…
Parked under a tree’s shade, the compartment’s latch unhooked, our baggage spread around and our tents half-stood, I was sweating like a hydrant, wiping my forehead. I was listening to the chirping of birds (discussing the new arrivals) trying to imagine their conversation when suddenly everything shut up. Zombie was walking nearby. We waited, as statues wait, and on the birds’ cue we continued our setting up.
“For fuck’s sake. She is Satan,” I mutter on my own.
The day went by as it usually goes. The sun was shining, then not so much, then none at all. Much like our alcoholic endeavors, come night-time we were beat and ready to be sleeping-bagged. Each of us entered our own separate tent (since the last masturbating fiasco Theo refuses to sleep anywhere near me without some kind of partition between us) and zipped our flaps goodnight…
***
Three or four hours later, restless and unable to sleep, I unzip my tent and head towards some wooden benches, Hempel’s Tumble Home and a flashlight in hand. I read in my lonesomeness, feeling every word of Amy’s pummeling into my psyche. I finish a short story and my glance drifts to a falling eucalyptus leaf, horned-shaped and dry. As soon as it lands, my mind plunges into another story. It was about the death of a loved-one.
Slow, steady footsteps are approaching me. I can hear them but the story is so compelling I don’t acknowledge their presence. They draw nearer and nearer. Slow step by slow step. Someone is standing above me and then sits opposite me. I raise my head reluctantly. Red dress, dead vacant eyes, staring me. OH FUCK, I screamed inside me.
“Hello,” I said in English (for clearly she wasn’t native), smiling as honestly as I could.
She stares through me for ten seconds, without blinking, freezing my blood motionless...
Then in a heavy Slavic accent she says: “Do you have a cigarette?”“No, no… I don’t smoke,” I said, chuckling nervously. “But I do have a lighter if you find some cigarettes,” forcing a false chuckle again.
She then leans on the table, hoists herself up, her face dangling over the table, and spits this huge paddle of saliva and goo a few inches off my book. WHAT THE FUCK!!!?, I think. She’s totally insane. The way she spat on the table, however, was utterly confusing. I couldn’t, for the life of me, decide whether she spat in a threatening way, therefore warranting a beating, or if she just spat because she felt like it and couldn’t control it (e.g. drugs or whatever).
She then starts to leave. My bare toes are fishing the sand for my shoes while my eyes are fixed on her. “Jesus fucking Christ, I’m out of here,” I utter in a mixture of excitement and fear of her supernaturalness. I wear my shoes like slippers and start walking, running away from her, all the while imagining her turning into this carnivorous beast and galloping towards me, hard and fast, jumping me with sharp teeth and bloodshot eyes, devouring my flesh.
I turn around. She’s far away, fumbling for cigarettes around other peoples’ tents. Sucks to be them.
I crawl inside my tent, double-zip, and just lie there, winded, with my eyes checking constantly the small window which I forgot to shut and I wasn’t about to shut now.
I imagine her shadowy figure appearing slowly, her vacant eyes piercing through the mosquito net, when suddenly I realize something that my penis realized some time ago. I was totally turned on by She-Satan!
So, naturally, I begin masturbating furiously to her. It is crazily wild. I cum hard and fast, trembling all over, having the best self-induced orgasm of my life.
Moments later, I realize that I’m kinkier and much weirder than I thought I was. I smile and fall asleep, recognizing that I wasn’t exactly scared of her. I just wanted to feel this way. My subconscious knew better, my libido outsmarted me.
So what if I went home, surfed for tentacle porn and every other kind of supernatural porn I could get my mitts on, found that I returned to “normal” and none of that would jolt my cock again?It was awesome. And I will cherish it forever.
Thank you scary lady. I loved you, once… for three minutes or so :)
the end,
p.s: The next day we heard from some fellow-campers that she urinated on their tent. Oh man.
p.p.s: When I saw her that morning her face was swollen and bruised purple.
I guess some get horny, some get punchy.