Spine Chillers

1. The Weeping Woman-2

Darren put a hand against the zip at his thigh, then realising nothing was there, he checked the other side as well. He could feel his own house key inside, but it was then that he remembered he had stopped bringing his phone with him, because his latest one kept slamming against his leg while he jogged.

He looked up at the woman. “I’m really sorry,” he said, “I seem to have left my mobile indoors.”

The woman let forth another stream of tears. She bent her head, almost as if in shame for her reaction. Her long dark hair fell down around her face, masking it from him.

She was clearly distraught. At this time of night, he was probably the only other living soul she had seen, and thus, her only chance of rescue, and he had let her down at the first hurdle.

Desperate, Darren looked around to see if there might be a car on the road about to pass them. Even if he had to run out in front of it like a madman, he was willing to give it a go to try and make it up to the poor woman. But there was no car in sight.

“Listen,” he began, trying to sound comforting, “I don’t live that far away, I could probably run there in ten or fifteen minutes. I could call the police for you once I’m there.”

The woman wiped her eyes and looked back up at him.

Her latest flood of tears had left her eyes red. But even with that, and her bedraggled hair which she hastily shoved back out of her face, she was still captivatingly beautiful.

She moved forward a couple of steps until she was close enough that he could smell her scent. Darren breathed it the intoxicating aroma and felt an overpowering urge to lean in and put his arms around her.

The woman shivered, loudly, placing her arms around her to keep out the chill.

Darren looked down at himself. He was only wearing a T-shirt and a pair of jogging bottoms, and under them, only his underwear, so he had nothing he could reasonably offer the woman to help keep out the cold.

That made him feel even more guilty than him not having his phone.

The wind picked up and pulled the woman’s nightie hard against her. Darren could tell straight away that she was n***d underneath, but then, what did he expect?

Above her crossed arms Darren could see her n*****s protruding through the flimsy fabric. The cold had doubtless made them erect.

When he looked up, the woman was staring directly into his eyes. Darren felt his face flush with embarrassment. There was no way she had not noticed him staring at her breasts. The man who was supposed to be helping out a damsel in distress, and here he was ogling her, taking advantage of the fact that she was vulnerable, barely dressed and at the mercy of the weather.

Now he really felt ashamed.

“If you could only come to the house,” she implored, “there’s a window open on the first floor. If you could climb in for me and unlock the front door, I would be immensely grateful.”

Another shiver ran through his body.

Why the thought of following her to her house should suddenly cause him to feel afraid, Darren could not rationalise.

But he still experienced an overwhelming feeling of trepidation at the very moment she mentioned it.

He hesitated for a second or two, before replying.

Darren still felt the full weight of his embarrassment at being caught out gawping at the woman’s breasts, so denying her now, seemed more than just churlish.

“Okay,” he agreed, reluctantly. “Lead the way.”

“Oh, thank you,” the woman replied. “You really are most kind.”

As they walked, they introduced each other. The woman’s name was Edith Mannering, and she and her husband lived alone in the old house. She explained that he was away on business and would not be home for a couple of days.

Edith further went on the explain that she always had trouble sleeping while her husband was away, which was why she had taken to wandering through the graveyard late at night, as a way of tiring herself out.

“It may seem a trifle morbid to some,” she explained, “but really they are only stones.”

“It’s what’s underneath them that terrifies me,” Darren half-joked.

“Well, when you consider how many plague pits we still have in this country, you might argue that you are more likely to be stepping over someone’s final resting place than not, if you take my drift.”

Darren had never considered such an argument, and the sudden thought of it made his skin feel squirmy.

He shrugged it off as they approached the house.

The only light available was what shone over the graveyard from the adjacent street. But by the time the arc reached the house, it was mostly in shadow.

Edith opened the gate which led to the private garden in front of the house. The iron hinges creaked their opposition as she did so. “Sorry,” she apologised. “My husband keeps promising to oil them.”

As they approached the front of the house, Darren squinted up through the darkness, and sure enough, he could see one of the upper windows was open.

He had never been much of a climber. Even as a child he had always struggled to scale trees, even when his friends seemed to be able to shoot up them without any problem.

Other than the old lead wastepipe which ran down one side of the building, Darren could not see any vantage point he could use to access the open window.

As if reading his mind, Edith said. “There’s a ladder round the back of the house, I’m sure it’s long enough to reach. I could give you a hand to bring it around.”

Darren nodded. It seemed the best, if not only option and was a good deal safer than trying to shimmy up the pipe.

He followed Edith around to the garden. The ladder was a large metallic one, with a telescopic shaft, and three layers. Darren was sure it would do the trick.

Once they had carried it back around the front, Edith stood back as Darren hoisted it to a standing position, before moving in front of him to help him support its weight while he negotiated the release catches on each side.

They managed between them to extend the ladder until the top of it sat just under the open window.

The ground beneath the bottom prongs was soft and pliable, and as soon as Darren mounted the first rung, he felt the contraption sink into the mud.

He waited until he was sure it would not go down any further, before beginning his ascent.

Edith waited at the bottom, and once he had passed the fifth rung, she held the frame in place, bracing her bodyweight against both sides so as not to let it slip.

Halfway up, a sudden rush of wind caused Darren to cling to the ladder for fear of being blown off. By now the perspiration he had built up while jogging had dried on his skin, and his present lack of exertion left him feeling cold, and vulnerable.

Once the breeze died down, he continued on his way, desperately trying to avoid the temptation to glance down to where Edith stood, for fear that the experience might unbalance him, and send him crashing to the ground.

As he placed his hands on the ledge of the open window, Darren stayed still for a moment to catch his breath. Now that he was holding onto something solid, he felt a rush of relief sweep over him. Even so, he reminded himself that he was not out of the woods yet, and that he was in no position to be cocky.

Taking another rung up, Darren dipped his head inside the window, and arched his upper body so that he was across the threshold.

With the moon being at the back of the property, the room he was about to enter was still very much in shadow, but his eyes adjusted quickly to the lack of light, and he saw that there was nothing below the window for him to fall into, save a dozen or so pairs of ladies’ shoes, which had all been neatly arrayed side-by-side.

Not having the skill or the confidence to swing his body round and enter feet-first, Darren leaned all the way over and reached down for the floor. Bracing himself with his hands just in front of the shoes, he lunged forward and managed to complete a forward-roll on the floor.

As his legs came down, his feet hit the side of the king-sized bed which dominated the room, and as he fought to regain his balance, he managed to scatter several of the shoes with his hand as he groped for purchase.

He sat there for a moment, breathing hard, and feeling quite proud of himself for having completed the first part of his task.

Now all he had to do was go downstairs and let Edith in, and he could feel the real hero of the piece.

Darren navigated himself out onto the landing and felt along the wall for a light switch. To his dismay, when he flicked the button, nothing happened. He flipped it on and off several times in frustration, then gave up.

Feeling his way along the banister, he walked towards the top of the stairs.

There was another switch on the wall opposite, but alas, this one too failed to bring forth any light.

Keeping a firm hold on the railing, Darren made his way downstairs. As he reached the bottom, he could just about make out a dim shadowy figure through the frosted glass of the front door.

He walked across the hallway, careful not to bump into anything along the way, and opened the door to reveal a very shivery Edith, standing on the welcome mat.

Before he had a chance to take a step back, Edith flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and burying her face against his chest. “Oh, you absolute star,” she cried, excitedly, squeezing him for all she was worth.

Although taken-aback by her sudden display of affection, Darren enjoyed the feeling of having Edith’s lythe, supple body so close to his. Especially as there was only a couple of flimsy pieces of fabric to separate them.

Feeling a little foolish, Darren returned the hug, lifting his arms up so that they could envelope Edith’s head, as he gently stroked her hair.

Darren could feel that she was absolutely freezing from the cold night air, and decided that, even if she were only doing it to garner some heat, he would wait for her to release her hold first.

He was certainly in no hurry.

It even crossed his mind that when Edith had made a point of going into detail about her husband being away, was she perhaps coming onto him?

He had heard of stories of much stranger encounters than this, which ended up with the couple in bed, spending the night in passionate, sweaty lovemaking. So, the fact it had never happened to him before, might mean that it was finally his turn.

The thought of their n***d bodies writhing and twisting beneath the sweaty sheets of her king-sized bed as they took their time pleasuring each other until the sun came up virtually blew his mind.

Darren kissed the top of Edith’s head and began stroking it with the palm of his hand.

Before he could stop himself, Darren felt his ardour rising.

His bulge protruded through his jogging pants, and he could feel it pushing against Edith’s belly.

He was sure that she would push him away, disgusted with him for trying to take advantage of the situation. But, to his surprise and delight, she merely held him tighter, pushing him against her. He even felt a slight swivel in her hips which caused him to release a low, pleasurable moan.