[Episode 143085] [Episode 143085]Schneaple hadn't been ready to go home yet. The living world could be so delightful. This place for instance. It had been the site of death. Much suffering. Much pain. A dead child. A boy and his family. The family gone, but the boy remained. Schneaple basked in the incredible loss. Nothing living had much to do with this place any more.
Schneaple huffed. Schneaple was hungry. Almost hungry enough to eat Schneaple's own Polaroid One600 Ultra Instant Camera with self timer, focus free operation, digital LCD picture counter, and sleek, folding design for easy portability. Almost. Perhaps Schneaple eat something else instead? A squirrel or small child? One young soul was as tasty as another. Perhaps --
Schneaple stood absolutely still, widening Schneaple's nostrils to take in the scent. Something was coming. Something human. Food?
The little imp skittered across the wooden floor, avoiding the creaky beams with its large, padded feet.
Schneaple squatted in the shadows. And waited. A low, rolling sound clattered over the wood panelling.
Food!
Daisuke crouched low on his skateboard, shuffling through the darkened house. He leaned a little to the left, and the board under him pulled into a wide circle. The teen carefully deposited a tape recorder in the middle of the empty floor.
Houses like this used to scare him when he was a kid. It was the not-quite absence of people that made the hairs on his neck stand. He forced himself to look into the shadows, let his eyes grow wide as he stared. Hoping, just for a moment, that he'd see something staring back.
In one corner in particular, Daisuke couldn't bring himself to look. There. The teen let his board slow to a stop, and he steadied himself on the empty floor.
The kid had died a few rooms over, but Roshi and Dai knew the ghost was all over the house. This one corner, though. The darkness seemed to stare back.
They'd found the kid alone one night. The babysitter had never shown up. The kid himself had apparently died of natural causes, falling down the stairs. Right at the edge of the door, if Daisuke was right. He imagined the little boy's eyes staring sightlessly into the darkened room.
The house was empty, he'd made sure of that. And quiet. He could hear the sound of the tape recorder's hiss. Daisuke had the feeling he was not alone.
He swung his backpack around front, digging into the front pocket. Daisuke couldn't look into the corner, but he worked fast, perhaps a snapshot. He dug deeper into the bag.
The shadows grew longer. Sharper. Reaching.
Daisuke thrust his hand further in, following the camera strap down to the cool plastic.
Something wet and sticky welled up between the joints on the floor, darkening the wood, running along the shadow. In the darkness, eyes, horrible wide eyes blinked. The claws dug little furrows into the wood. Just inches away. So close. Grasping.
Daisuke brought up the camera, still looking into his bag.
CLICK-SNAP.
Nabiki was out like a light, but Ranma couldn't sleep. They'd played a little touchy feely for most of the night, but the brown haired girl could barely keep her eyes open. Ranma had been the one to suggest bed, and the dull ache had grown all night. She squirmed a little under the covers.
Ranma felt her girlfriend's chest rise and fall, hard little nubs tracing their journey across the redhead's back. Nabiki's hot breath tickled her ear.
God, she was hot. And Nabiki was right there.
The redhead could feel the heat build, rising up her breasts and filling the little peaks. She gulped as her hand trailed down. Her legs parted a little to accommodate her hand, but she didn't reach it in time.
Nabiki jammed her knee into place between Ranma's thighs. That little knob at the top of the knee cap ran up Ranma's most sensitive area, pressing the redhead's button. Ranma reflexively slammed her knees shut, trapping her lover's leg and the wonderful sensations it produced.
She couldn't move, Nabiki's grip was too strong. She was melting, and had no way to reach her itch. The redhead mewled and gulped.
It was going to be a long night.
Where was that boy? The dogs were loose. The alarm rang. Genma leapt, sack in hand. Ungrateful son! Honorless child! He was supposed to be the bait!
His parents had gone to bed. The boy could tell, even buried under the covers. He quickly drew out his prize from under his pillow, something he'd snagged from Kuno a few days ago and made sure no one, NO ONE, knew he had. They were pink. Silky. A perfect example of femininity, and the closest he'd ever gotten to the real thing.
And it happened to belong to Akane Tendo.
The lettering on the waistband was smudged, but unmistakable. The school's hottest chick was minus one pair.
He brought them to his face. And breathed. His other hand reached further down, and the boy moaned.
She smelled so sweet.
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(Posted Tue, 28 Jun 2005 22:11)
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