Reign of Fear: Story of French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars (Cantiniére Tales) by Alaric Longward Page A
Authors: Alaric Longward
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sir,’ I told him evenly as he cocked them for me, and gave them back. I took them gingerly. No matter what he was, I would always be grateful for him for what he did for me that night.
He put his face near mine. He was ugly but so strong, rugged and confident. I felt some of that flow into me. He poked my belly. ‘You want to, eh? Very well. Aim with both hands. It will kick, and you will fall, but aim there. Don’t let them get wet! The priming must not get wet.’ I nodded, and ran out followed by many stares and I heard the waitress and Camille harangue Georges, who was laughing heartily. He took our watch, but I did not care, for I thought about selling the pistols, should we survive.
It was raining outside, and I hid the guns under my dress, terrified they would fire. Then, when the rain intensified, I was terrified they would not. I saw our hazy house, and forced myself to go forward with reluctant steps. I got in to the forlorn hallway and pulled the pistols out. I was shaking in indecision and started up the stairs, avoiding the steps I knew would creak. There was nobody around, nothing in sight. The door to my great uncles apartment was open, and I saw fireplace roaring. There were plush carpets and gilded ornaments framin g bookshelves, velvet draperies and curtains silky and long. I hated him, the man I thought I knew, and Adam too. Up the stairs I went, slowly. Adam’s door was closed and his wife no longer sang the sad song. I came up to our door. Inside, the twins were talking their gibberish. I recognized Julie saying, ‘Mama.’
I pushed the door open, and what I saw made my blood turn to ice.
Adam was taking mother from behind. I had, of course heard of lovemaking, and even coarser, less meaningful sex, for who did not know and joke about it? But I had never seen such a thing. I had spied mother and father occasionally engaged in something suspicious that left them happy and exhausted, but now she was bent over the bed, her face suffering and shamed and Adam’s angry face was near her ear as he was pushing and pulling his bony hips tiredly against her bare buttocks, grotesquely panting and drooling on her shoulder, his hands groping at her breasts. Her eyes were closed in silent suffering; she had no clothes, her hands and legs were tightly tied and she had a gag in her mouth. Colbert was standing next to them on his shirtsleeves, wearing nothing below, no culottes, his fat, ugly ass naked, leaning on the bed, fondling himself, muttering something. The twins were playing, blissfully unaware of the activity next to them, and I briefly admired mother who was visibly struggling to keep quiet, for them. The sight was ghoulish, terrifying, primal in an ugly way, as Adam was venting his loss and rage on my family. I went to my knee, placed one gun on the floor and grabbed the other one with two trembling hands.
Jean called my name. ‘ eanet.’
Colbert smiled at him approvingly. ‘Jeanette will be home soon, then she will talk quickly and honestly, or suffer like your bitch of a mother, and God is watching for it is just and right to punish killers.’ Adam laughed, out of breath, still jerking and pushing at mother. I stepped closer, but I forgot in the terror of the impending confrontation a creaky floorboard and they all looked at me. Mother’s eyes were pleading, Adam got up, his erect cock hanging loose, and I aimed, my hand not trembling in the least, and pulled the trigger.
It was hard, it was very hard, and my meager strength was not equal to the task, but Adam’s face turning from fear to a leer gave me what I needed. The sound was so loud; I flew back, and hit my head on the doorway. I begged to God I had not hit mother or the babes, and animal-like fear gnawed at me as there was a baby shrieking, howling and shrieking as I struggled to get up. Then I saw it was not a baby shrieking, but Adam, who held his lower belly, his face white, the wig askew in his head. Mother was struggling to
He put his face near mine. He was ugly but so strong, rugged and confident. I felt some of that flow into me. He poked my belly. ‘You want to, eh? Very well. Aim with both hands. It will kick, and you will fall, but aim there. Don’t let them get wet! The priming must not get wet.’ I nodded, and ran out followed by many stares and I heard the waitress and Camille harangue Georges, who was laughing heartily. He took our watch, but I did not care, for I thought about selling the pistols, should we survive.
It was raining outside, and I hid the guns under my dress, terrified they would fire. Then, when the rain intensified, I was terrified they would not. I saw our hazy house, and forced myself to go forward with reluctant steps. I got in to the forlorn hallway and pulled the pistols out. I was shaking in indecision and started up the stairs, avoiding the steps I knew would creak. There was nobody around, nothing in sight. The door to my great uncles apartment was open, and I saw fireplace roaring. There were plush carpets and gilded ornaments framin g bookshelves, velvet draperies and curtains silky and long. I hated him, the man I thought I knew, and Adam too. Up the stairs I went, slowly. Adam’s door was closed and his wife no longer sang the sad song. I came up to our door. Inside, the twins were talking their gibberish. I recognized Julie saying, ‘Mama.’
I pushed the door open, and what I saw made my blood turn to ice.
Adam was taking mother from behind. I had, of course heard of lovemaking, and even coarser, less meaningful sex, for who did not know and joke about it? But I had never seen such a thing. I had spied mother and father occasionally engaged in something suspicious that left them happy and exhausted, but now she was bent over the bed, her face suffering and shamed and Adam’s angry face was near her ear as he was pushing and pulling his bony hips tiredly against her bare buttocks, grotesquely panting and drooling on her shoulder, his hands groping at her breasts. Her eyes were closed in silent suffering; she had no clothes, her hands and legs were tightly tied and she had a gag in her mouth. Colbert was standing next to them on his shirtsleeves, wearing nothing below, no culottes, his fat, ugly ass naked, leaning on the bed, fondling himself, muttering something. The twins were playing, blissfully unaware of the activity next to them, and I briefly admired mother who was visibly struggling to keep quiet, for them. The sight was ghoulish, terrifying, primal in an ugly way, as Adam was venting his loss and rage on my family. I went to my knee, placed one gun on the floor and grabbed the other one with two trembling hands.
Jean called my name. ‘ eanet.’
Colbert smiled at him approvingly. ‘Jeanette will be home soon, then she will talk quickly and honestly, or suffer like your bitch of a mother, and God is watching for it is just and right to punish killers.’ Adam laughed, out of breath, still jerking and pushing at mother. I stepped closer, but I forgot in the terror of the impending confrontation a creaky floorboard and they all looked at me. Mother’s eyes were pleading, Adam got up, his erect cock hanging loose, and I aimed, my hand not trembling in the least, and pulled the trigger.
It was hard, it was very hard, and my meager strength was not equal to the task, but Adam’s face turning from fear to a leer gave me what I needed. The sound was so loud; I flew back, and hit my head on the doorway. I begged to God I had not hit mother or the babes, and animal-like fear gnawed at me as there was a baby shrieking, howling and shrieking as I struggled to get up. Then I saw it was not a baby shrieking, but Adam, who held his lower belly, his face white, the wig askew in his head. Mother was struggling to
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