The Black House - MWBB

I'm a little intermittent with my Mid-Week Blues-Buster entries at the moment. It totally depends on time and how quickly the song throws up an idea. This last week it did, and in fact it went very dark, half way through I had to stop and think about where I wanted it to go, because the direction it was headed was a little too darker, I didn't really want to entertain what I saw in my mind, so I diverted it at the last moment, and I think it worked - although it didn't get ranked. I put that down to a lot of entries this week, and all the other awesome stories that were produced. Enjoy.

The prompt song was:

Black House, by Omnia

The week was done and he could finally return to his sanctuary. Over bumpy roads to the hidden location, his heart lifted upon seeing the derelict building loom up ahead blacker than the night sky.

When he entered, their cries made him smile. He had been missed, but then a week alone was long, he knew that. He went about his ministrations, giving the minimum needed to sustain them; their outstretched hands grabbing what they could, a few lucky ones grabbing a little more.

As they settled, he did too, taking his place in the worn armchair positioned in the centre of the main room facing the doors. Eyes peered between the bars of the little windows set into the thick oak. It afforded him protection, unless he wanted to open them. But it was early yet, and he had to nurse a week in the world first.

He unscrewed the bourbon, enjoying its glint in the lantern light. He relished the first sip, the fire awaking his soul as it warmed his body. It wouldn’t take many tonight to bring him back to life.

They watched him as he drank, knowing.

After two drinks he stood up. He heard them hold their collective breaths as he walked to the back of the room to the CD player. He needed something dark and heavy tonight, something deep that would talk to his soul. It needed to be earthy; reflect the smells of the dwelling. He knew the CD he needed, and they’d know it too once he put it on.

He heard the murmurs when the first chords could be heard through the tiny speakers, and he felt their eyes on him as he walked to the corner. The chink of the keys heightened those murmurs and he smiled for the first time that week. This was always his favourite part.

They shrank back as he turned the keys in the locks, but he chose to let them do the opening tonight. He wasn’t in a hurry. Instead he returned to his chair and the amber liquid that would enable him to enjoy the next part.

He knew she’d be first. She was bolder than the others, opening the door a crack and slithering out. She pressed herself against the wall next to the door, and slid down it, relieved to be out of the confines.

Her nakedness aroused him, but he remained seated, knowing she would come, although not until the other doors were opened. They were a collective, and that’s why he enjoyed them so much.

First they huddled together, their unique forms fitting together as though they were one, and then they turned to him with a sparkle in their eyes. Now it was his turn to inhale, readying himself for their onslaught as they came towards him. Capturing dark forest fairies was one thing, but satiating their lurid desires was another.