Pear
There is a pear out in the flats of Antarctica. Not just any pear, but a living, walking, breathing, hairy pear. It's name is Peari; Peari is the last pear of its kind. Peari can run and wants to free and swim through the freezing oceans to meet its friend Loch Ness monster. Peari does not want to become a chunky pear smoothie swimming through all of that cold ocean and ice. Wish my personal favorite mythical creature Peari the last pear a safe journey.
An excerpt from an unfinished novel
Father Bartholomew Kirkland – Bart for short – hung up the phone, rubbed his chubby hand through his thinning hair and adjusted the wire-rim glasses perched on his short fat nose. He’d just handed over his best hunter to the enemy. He didn’t think he wanted to, in fact, he was almost sure of it, but he had anyway. Why?
Because of her.
He didn’t know her name, though memories that flashed through his mind like a slideshow suggested he’d known her all his life – and loved her for even longer. He felt no emotional attachment to any of the fragmented images; it was like they belonged to someone else.
‘When had she first come to him here in his office?’ He pondered.
Reason told him today had been the first time he ever saw her, but a desire burned in him to encounter her flesh again like he’d done in the past.
‘If that’s the case, why can’t I remember anything about it?’ His heart asked his brain, not that it made any difference at this point – she instructed him, and he obeyed.
She sat across from his desk in a centuries-old, ornate, hand sculpted, red-leather bound chair and shook her head, “Are you going send them help?”
The words drifted from her delicate black-painted lips like a whisper along an autumn breeze, floated into his ears, and massaged the pleasure centers in his brain. Thick graying brows furrowed as his beady brown eyes followed the slow sway of the woman’s raven hair. It appeared to undulate along its length, to her ample cleavage, where the tips wiggled with a life of their own.
‘Had he noticed that before?’ He thought, ‘Did it really matter?’
“No…” Kirkland answered to himself and the woman with hesitation.
“You are correct, Father. You aren’t.”
With a bend at the waist to maximize the exposure of her breasts, she gripped the knobbed arm rests, and rose with grace. The black silkiness of her gown shimmered as it unfurled from the seat of the chair onto the floor. The dress fanned out around her legs in waves as though a breeze blew under the hem. Her stomach and breasts fit snug inside the fabric. The outfit ended in a curve half-way up her soft round bosoms where two delicate straps connected the top to separate wrist-length sleeves.
She ran her perfect wet black tongue across her lips. Eyes like dark discs shimmered in the middle of an ocean of white on her face. They stared, unblinking, from under thin black brows and feathered lashes. Her dark makeup contrasted against the chalk white skin that covered her smooth porcelain body.
Silence filled the Dragon’s Blood-scented chamber. Kirkland’s gaze locked onto her as she glided across the red Victorian rug and rounded the desk. The rest of the study, with all its replica religious artifacts, copies of ancient texts and scrolls, and lavish faux leather furniture vanished from sight. There was only her.
The woman allowed her long slender fingers to walk across Kirkland’s desk. Black fingernails tip-toed across a hand-carved humidor box full of Cuban cigars, hiked over a miniature wooden globe mounted on a brass pedestal, crawled through stacks of scattered paperwork and open books, and hopped the distance from the desk to the priest’s hand.
The dark fabric of her gown withdrew up her legs until only a knee-high black skirt remained. Where the garment had cinched her stomach and breast moments ago a black short sleeve button-down shirt hung open revealing a black bra beneath – her small soft milky midsection aroused him.
She inched her bottom onto the desk and sat spread-legged in front of him with her bare pale feet propped on the chair’s arm rests. Her skirt slid up into a pile at her waist, revealing… nothing – she had no gender, only a smooth ivory-colored mound where there should be a vagina.
Kirkland felt as though this ought to alarm him, but the seductress excited him too much. He’d only been with one woman before swearing an oath of abstinence when he became a member of The Will – that woman had not made him feel as this one did.
With a quick slap, this woman knocked his pudgy hand off one of her petite feet – he withdrew with a start.
“No, no, now. You know the rules. No touching. That would violate your oath wouldn’t it, Father?” She scolded with a stern whisper.
“Yes…” He said. The sound of her words again coiled around his brain.
“And why aren’t you going to send them help?” She asked and leaned in close enough for him to feel the cold chill of her soft voice.
“Because it’s what you want.” He said.
“Good boy, Bart.” She patted him soft on the cheek before cradling his chin in her hand. Embarrassment turned him several shades of red and pink as a bulge grew in his slacks.
“And do you always do what I want?” She asked.
“Yes…” He stuttered as she cupped either side of his face with her cold hands and brought him closer to her.
“And why is that?” She asked.
“Because you are my goddess.” He was compelled to say. He didn’t feel it was the wrong answer. He wasn’t sure why he’d said it – but he did believe it.
The seductress pulled his mouth close to hers, and whispered, “Yes, you are correct.”
The smell of Dragon’s Blood flooded his head as he inhaled her icy breath. Waves of pleasure quivered in his knees and his knuckles strained as he griped the chair arms tighter.
She tilted her head to kiss him.
“Yes…” He groaned and waited – mouth agape and eyes closed.
A black gelatinous tentacle slithered from between her parted lips, slipped across his tongue, and down his throat. His hands locked around his thick neck and clawed at the dark spindles that invaded his lungs – he struggled and choked.
The appendage leaked into every crevice of the Father’s body, filling him with her darkness. The vessels across the surface of his skin became engorged and black as the symbiotic invasion flowed outward from his heart to his fingertips and toes. A fist of darkness squeezed his heart harder with each slowing beat. Pools of black ooze filled his eye sockets and leaked down his cheeks like blackened tears; and the woman’s vile poison dripped from his nose.
The knot of darkness gripped his heart tighter while tiny tendrils tickled the sensitive sections of his brain. His body grew rigid and twitched with a sudden spasm that shook the chair – then he went limp.
The woman withdrew all of her from the priest, slid from the desk, and pushed his limp body back in the chair. His head drooped to one side and a teardrop of black ooze dribbled down from his eye. She scooped up the discharge with a single delicate finger and licked it clean with a grin.
“Hope you enjoyed that as much as I did, Father Bart.” She laughed and sauntered out of the study.
Her clothes streamed around her like thunder clouds around a tornado as they metamorphosed into a nun’s habit that was to her liking. The parting clouds revealed a skin-tight gelatinous tube dress that shimmered like wet latex under the fluorescent lights, eight-inch stiletto heels, and black gloves. Her face melted away into the darkness of a hood that rose from her shoulders and draped itself over her head.
She strode down a hall full of busy priests, nuns, and acolytes. They were unaware of her presence as they scurried to finish their nightly duties before bed. No one realized they took an unconscious, but deliberate side-step to avoid her as she approached, and none of them heard the click of her heels echo on the cobblestone-tiled floor as she passed.
A nun screamed somewhere behind her. There was a flurry of commotion in the building and people raced along the corridor towards Father Kirkland’s office. She smiled and stiff-armed the front door of the monastery.
Once outside, she strolled across the porch and down the concrete steps to the end of the walkway. At a tall wrought-iron gate that led to the street she stopped and stared up at the full moon – the bright white orb reflected in the deep black pools of her eyes. Her wardrobe came to life once more and spread forth from her body. A curtain of darkness hung around her pale naked body and curled in the air like a wave preparing to crash onto the beach. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. The wave crashed onto her and she exploded into a cloud of black dust that evaporated into the night sky.
A Strange Discovery
Dawn made her way through the underbrush, pushing aside branches and leaves that almost seemed fake. They were oddly colored; blues and greens, even silvers and violets. Everything was strange here, but when she, a young, ambitious explorer, somehow ended up in this mystical realm, she had not hesitated to run off into danger immediately. She had absoluetly no idea where she was, or how to get home, but that didn't seem to bother her. She pressed on, blindly crashing through the forest.
She knew she had to find something good, or she would never hear the end of the relentless teasing from her sister Holly about her adventure.
After a few more minutes of walking, she came to the edge of a clearing, or so she thought. Only a couple feet ahead, the ground fell away, revealing a steep cliff. Something caught her attention, aside from the weird glowing flowers in the trees.
She could hear voices, though they clearly were not speaking English, or any language she had ever heard, for that matter. Dawn crept as close to the edge as she dared, using the bushes for both support and cover, and looked down into the valley.
It was half underwater, with more than a dozen waterfalls spilling down into the crystal pools. She could hear the falling water now, and she was surprised as to how loud it ws, considering she had not heard anything until now.
Dawn saw what she at first thought were fish swimming around in the pools. It was only when one burst out of the water, and somehow scaling the entire cliff wall, which was two hundred feet down at the very least, and landed next to her. Dawn shrieked and jumped back, but she was half stuck in the bush, which she now realized was full of thorns. Despite the fact that she had several scratches on her arm, a few of which were bleeding, she was immediately awestruck by the sight before her.
It was not a fish at all. It seemed to be a strange mix of lizard, dragon perhaps, and a cat of some sort. It was maybe only the size of a typical house cat, so she assumed this was the case. It had no hind legs, Dawn noticed, so perhaps it was also part snake? Its skin was a shiny and smooth silver, with scales in only a few places. Its forelegs were one of these places, where the smooth skin turned to bumpy scales, though still seemingly cat's paws. The tail also had scales, as well as four rings made of some kind of metal wrapped around it. The tip of its tail had a soft puff of silvery blue fur, as did the top of its head. It had a face that definitely resembled a lizard, with sharp teeth when it opened its mouth. The insides of its cat-like ears were lined with the blue fur as well as what seemed to be a layer of webbing to protect the inner ear from water. The most amazing part of this beautiful creature was the forms on its back. They appears to resemble wings, but at the same time, they looked like webbed feet that one might find on a bird. And they sparkled, translucent blue that stretched elegantly all the way down to the tip of her tail, turning from the wing like shape into normal spines.
Before Dawn could react, the creature squeaked at her, blinking its large yellow eyes. Stunned, Dawn could only stare at it more. The creature crept a couple inches closer and nudged her arm with its nose. It was so strange, feeling cold scales instead of warm fur from a being that looked so much like a cat.
It seemed to notice the scratches on her arms, and made a noise that almost sounded like a laugh, before gently pulling the brambles off her. Dawn stood up, still mesmerized by the little creature.
It tilted its head at her when she did not move, confused as to why she did not leave. Dawn wondered if it understood that she was lost. Judging by the look in its eyes, she guessed it did.
Neither of them knew the way for her to get home, so Dawn ended up following the little cat down a path along the edge of the cliff to the pools below. She could see now that there were dozens of the small creatures, their scales and fur ranging from silver, blue, and purple, to gold, red and green. They were beautiful.
Dawn sat in front of one of the pools of sparkling water, glancing up from her notebook every now and then. She had drawn the creatures from every angle, and the little silver cat that she had first found had brought various plants and even small animals to her. she drew them all, writing even more.
Nearly a month passed before Dawn returned home. As expected, Holly was asking questions the instant she saw her older sister enter the house.
"Where were you?!" Holly demanded. She wasn't exactly expecting the simplicity of the answer that her sister gave her.
"I was... with some friends..." Dawn replied.
The Kytalo, as she had named them, were her little secret. Especially Kyota, the little silver one, who had given Dawn the little key that now hung on a small silver chain around her neck. The key to her world.