THE SUBWAY COLLECTION-A Box Set of 8 Dark Stories to Read on the Go by Billie Sue Mosiman Page A
Authors: Billie Sue Mosiman
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potion.
"But why must you?" Dessy asked, still distraught and not sure if she could actually go through with it.
Vera shrugged. "Blood has to pay," is all she would say.
Dessy knew that was cryptic and evil and if she took part in this...agreement...she would also be taking part in evil. Her mind was a swirl, tormented with morality, with the possible ramifications of her selfishness. Her need .
In the end Dessy signed the pact by nodding her head. That was all. She relented, feverish for a lover, for a friend and a mate, for someone to look at her the way men looked at women they loved.
Didn't she deserve love? She nodded her head in acquiescence, took the stopper from the bottle, her hand shaking, and drank down the sweetly vile potion from the blue bottle, gagging at the last, and then she had wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and asked, "Will I meet him soon?"
Vera smiled that smile that set Dessy to wishing she hadn't done any of this, took the few bills from Dessy's trembling fingers, and led her to the door. "It will be soon. No more than a few days."
And so it had been. Dessy met Jake at the company Halloween party. She was dressed as a ghost; she knew she hadn't any imagination, so why try to disguise herself as someone pretty like Cleopatra or a rock singer? Besides, the flowing white shroud covered her heavy hips, the football captain's wide shoulders, and full, ponderous breasts.
Jake stood in the corner, dressed as Count Dracula--for she came to know he loved vampires. He watched as she entered the room. He wore a black suit, cape lined in red satin, and fake fangs that made him look boyish rather than sinister when he grinned.
He followed her to the buffet and offered to pour her wine (dyed black for the occasion) into the crystal goblets. He talked to her all night about vampires and sex and bats and old movies and sex, and finally Dessy was so hot for him she thought she might fling off the shroud and grapple him to the floor right in front of the company president if he didn't stop talking.
Now they'd been together for more than a year and she had seen too many people die.
It had to be her fault. It ate at her like a slow fire, burning and smoking low in her midsection so that she couldn't enjoy being loved. Jake's attentions only reminded her people were paying with their lives. Every time he touched her, she cringed, thinking of another funeral, another casket, a grave yawning. Would it never end? Would the debt never be repaid?
She might have been able to live with the guilt--might have--for she loved Jake and their life together. She couldn't contemplate a time in her life without him. She might have found a way to accept the deaths if it hadn't been for the headaches.
"I can't read anymore, it hurts so bad!" Jake threw the latest vampire fiction across the room from the bed and grabbed the sides of his head with both hands. He shook himself as if to shuck off the pain and then he groaned.
Dessy went for a cold wet bath cloth to bathe his neck and forehead. She brought back aspirin and a glass of water. Nothing seemed to help.
"You'd better go to a doctor," she said, worry creasing her face.
#
Weeks later, after a series of debilitating headaches, Jake let himself me taken to a doctor--who sent him to specialists. Brain tumor, they said. Three of them, consulting, rubbing their chins, standing around his bed in the hospital where Jake lay nearly comatose from a morphine drip. Definitely a brain tumor, that's what the scans showed.
"But why must you?" Dessy asked, still distraught and not sure if she could actually go through with it.
Vera shrugged. "Blood has to pay," is all she would say.
Dessy knew that was cryptic and evil and if she took part in this...agreement...she would also be taking part in evil. Her mind was a swirl, tormented with morality, with the possible ramifications of her selfishness. Her need .
In the end Dessy signed the pact by nodding her head. That was all. She relented, feverish for a lover, for a friend and a mate, for someone to look at her the way men looked at women they loved.
Didn't she deserve love? She nodded her head in acquiescence, took the stopper from the bottle, her hand shaking, and drank down the sweetly vile potion from the blue bottle, gagging at the last, and then she had wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and asked, "Will I meet him soon?"
Vera smiled that smile that set Dessy to wishing she hadn't done any of this, took the few bills from Dessy's trembling fingers, and led her to the door. "It will be soon. No more than a few days."
And so it had been. Dessy met Jake at the company Halloween party. She was dressed as a ghost; she knew she hadn't any imagination, so why try to disguise herself as someone pretty like Cleopatra or a rock singer? Besides, the flowing white shroud covered her heavy hips, the football captain's wide shoulders, and full, ponderous breasts.
Jake stood in the corner, dressed as Count Dracula--for she came to know he loved vampires. He watched as she entered the room. He wore a black suit, cape lined in red satin, and fake fangs that made him look boyish rather than sinister when he grinned.
He followed her to the buffet and offered to pour her wine (dyed black for the occasion) into the crystal goblets. He talked to her all night about vampires and sex and bats and old movies and sex, and finally Dessy was so hot for him she thought she might fling off the shroud and grapple him to the floor right in front of the company president if he didn't stop talking.
Now they'd been together for more than a year and she had seen too many people die.
It had to be her fault. It ate at her like a slow fire, burning and smoking low in her midsection so that she couldn't enjoy being loved. Jake's attentions only reminded her people were paying with their lives. Every time he touched her, she cringed, thinking of another funeral, another casket, a grave yawning. Would it never end? Would the debt never be repaid?
She might have been able to live with the guilt--might have--for she loved Jake and their life together. She couldn't contemplate a time in her life without him. She might have found a way to accept the deaths if it hadn't been for the headaches.
"I can't read anymore, it hurts so bad!" Jake threw the latest vampire fiction across the room from the bed and grabbed the sides of his head with both hands. He shook himself as if to shuck off the pain and then he groaned.
Dessy went for a cold wet bath cloth to bathe his neck and forehead. She brought back aspirin and a glass of water. Nothing seemed to help.
"You'd better go to a doctor," she said, worry creasing her face.
#
Weeks later, after a series of debilitating headaches, Jake let himself me taken to a doctor--who sent him to specialists. Brain tumor, they said. Three of them, consulting, rubbing their chins, standing around his bed in the hospital where Jake lay nearly comatose from a morphine drip. Definitely a brain tumor, that's what the scans showed.
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