All Things In Good Time
© Joan Ann Lansberry
Well, this day, he got hot under the collar and wandered until he found the crossroads leading into town. He'd rarely been to town, and certainly not under his own steam. But he didn't care how long it would take. He just didn't want to hear any more of his father's screaming.
The town wasn't large, all it had was a general store, a pub, a post office, a church, and he couldn't recall if there was anything else. By the time he arrived, dark was settling down, and his feet were very sore.
He had only enough change for a cool drink, and then he settled on a bench to rest. Drifting off to sleep, he was soon awakened by a beautiful voice calling to him.
Or did he only hear the voice in his head? He wasn't sure. He looked around. ''Over here,'' the feminine voice directed. He got up and followed. A beautiful woman, regal with her breasts pushed up high by her cinch waist vest awaited in the shadows. She appeared as fragile as a porcelain doll, but there was a look in her eye that said she wasn't fragile at all.
Michael's heart pounded with excitement. He'd never talked to a woman of his own age. He'd played with other children as a child, but the family only a mile away from them moved away, and then he was alone with his father, mother and all those animals to tend. He was all of nineteen, and it was time to rectify this. Oh, the very sight of her aroused him. Getting closer to her, he was surprised that she still looked like a porcelain doll. ''You're beautiful,'' he let slip in a hushed whisper.
Giselle introduced herself, and seemed quite amused with the simple farm boy's adoration. She would have fun tonight. It would be delicious and she almost couldn't stand the anticipation of it. She bought mugs of ale for him and her, and they found a dark secluded place to sit. The bubbly alcoholic drink made Michael dizzy, and he resolved to sip more slowly .
Giselle laughed often, a worldly sort of titter. Was Michael getting more drunk on her, than what was in his cup? He didn't know, but he wanted more. Her voice was so alluring, she almost purred to him. She blew air into his ear gently, and by this time Michael was hers. ''Ah, the sweet innocent is softened, now,'' she thought, smiling. It was for just such treats as Michael that she occasionally visited small towns. She started kissing him, and he shyly returned the kiss. She could hear his little heart pound so rapidly, it was about to burst. This made her giggle voraciously, and she proceeded to more intense kissing.
The kissing proceeded to parts netherward, and Michael could scarcely stand it. He would surely die, he was so excited. Then he felt a fierce clamping of teeth on the part where his thigh met his torso. Wow, how firmly she was attached! He 'heard' her say, in a mental voice just as silky as her corporal voice, ''Relax!'' He did as he was told. But, oh, her sucking was so fierce. He began to feel dizzy, faint, even. Again, her soothing mind-voice said, ''Relax, sweet luscious one, relax...'' He let go of any resistance in his muscles, as he felt himself go limper and limper. He was about to faint. The last thing he saw was the stars before oblivion had him.
He came too, again, and felt all strange. Giselle looked luminescent against the bright moon light. Then both she and he grew sleepy. How long had they slept, Michael wasn't sure, but he was again wakened by that fierce mouth of hers. ''Yes, do what you're doing,'' Michael begged. He sensed he wouldn't feel right until she had finished with him. What was she doing, inserting her life essense into him somehow? It felt wonderfully intimate, as if now they were one in a way that could never be revoked. Fuller and fuller he felt of her until almost he would burst. Giselle laughed again, a mighty cascade of laughter trickling down from some secret place of power. ''Hah, hah, hah, Michael, so how now, Farm Boy?''
''I have, indeed, been initiated into the world of women, I like it. I feel good, now, mmmmm, '' and he purred with happiness. Suddenly, Giselle turned crisp and announced it would soon be daylight. She took Michael to the inn, and she rented a room for them. A day of slumber would be very good. Michael felt SO tired, as if he'd been totally reconstructed by her magic. Sleep would be healing.
And sleep, they did, while the sun came and rose high over the inn, until it settled in the west. Michael hadn't thought of his angry father once. It was lovely. But, oh, that man would REALLY be angry at him now. Somehow Michael didn't fear him, he felt a growing strength in him that gave him assurance he was more than he father's match now. How could he know that? What made him feel that way? He just did, and he was glad.
His gladness was soon cut short. Giselle announced that she would be returning to Europe, Paris, in fact, because that's where those who loved the moonlight lived to party by that moonlight. It was hard for Michael to imagine such a thing, a whole crowd of people partying by moonlight. It sounded exotic. ''Come join me, Michael. I could introduce you to all the old ones. Oh, we could have such fun together!'' Michael protested, ''It's not that all those faraway places don't sound fun, they do. It's just that I must return to my father's farm. There is far too much work for him to do it by himself, and it needs my strength. My mother has enough to do with her chores.'' Giselle snorted, ''Oh, how DUTIFUL you are! You really don't have to answer to your father anymore, sweet one! You really are a breed of your own now. You should answer only to yourself.''
But Michael was resolute. He would keep to his duties. Besides, he feared what sort of life his Mother would have if he were no longer there. Father could grow so angry. He and his mother learned to be a comfort to each other through the years. ''Damn my father, it is my mother that I don't wish to abandon!''
Giselle looked frustrated at the upsetting of her plans. A naive boy was always so much fun to bedazzle with sophisticated things and worlds. She sighed, '' We shall not have OUR fun, then. I'm disappointed, but as you are SO determined, I'll have to let you go. I suggest you travel back home to the farm now, as the gentle moon is about to rise. Good bye, dear boy. Perhaps I'll see you again, some day.'' With that, she gave him a tender kiss on the lips, and led him to the door which faced the twilight sky.
Michael's heart felt heavy, he knew he would not see her again. He tried once more and begged, ''You wouldn't want to stay here, would you?'' Giselle kissed him once last time, and said, ''No, dear one, that would never do...''
And Michael's feet were soon on the road home. A hunger began to seize him, but he couldn't think of what it was that he craved so. It wasn't roast pig, and it wasn't roast beef. No, it wasn't turkey, all with cranberries beside it, either. It wasn't a big glass of milk, with a butter covered biscuit. It wasn't ANY of those things, and that was the torment of it.
''By the time I get home, I'll be fit to tear the limb from something,'' he said to no one. The moon was unusually bright this night. He had no trouble making the road out from the diamond studded sky. He could smell something, what was it? All sorts of new scents beguiled his nose, with the mystery of what they were. ''Strangely, I feel reborn. I can't say it's the love of a woman, as I'll never see Giselle again. But I am awakened, all anew, I can feel it.'' And again, he uttered, ''And I'm SO HUNGRY! I'm tortured with it. I just can't figure what I need so badly.''
Just when he felt near to fainting, he'd at last made the bended curve that led to home. His parents were asleep. He could detect no candlelight. What was it he smelled? Strong, it was. The cows and horses stood quietly in their stables. ''Could it be I smell BLOOD?'' He walked to one of the cows, mesmerized, almost. The red liquid inside its veins was calling to him. ''What a bizarre food craving! I must not tell anyone of it. But I crave it so. I will only take so much that the cow will still live,'' And he drew his mouth near the the cow's neck, embedded his teeth, and began to draw out the warm liquid. It took all his restraint not to drain the creature dry. But there were other animals. They all could be so 'milked', and perhaps no one would know.
With each infilling, he felt his hunger quiet some, until finally the torturous craving ceased and he felt content. ''How often will I need to do that?'' he wondered. ''How is it I am so changed?'' He knew he must keep very quiet about these matters. His father had enough reason to hate him.