move,
let alone breathe.
“ I want you, because you
are mine. Do you hear me, little man? You belong to me, the
Seeker.”
He did not understand what
she was saying. But, the inference of possession was not lost on
him. He was about to burst out of his shorts. He was the hardest he
had ever been. He imagined his manhood was as hard as
stone.
“ I’m not… yours… to
have…,” he said in rapid bursts, tears streaming from his eyes, and
not just from outrage alone. Her clutch was tremendous.
She brought her face
toward his, her lips a fraction of an inch away. “Since the day you
were born, it was your destiny to be mine.”
“ N-no…,” was all he said
before his clothes were ripped from his body and his was thrown
ruthlessly to the ground.
The last thing he
remembered before she began was her standing above him. Her face
was devoid of emotion as she silently stepped free of her boots,
her feet were bare inside. She shed her garments and was soon naked
in the bright beauty of the day.
“ Why?” he asked, pleading
like a child.
“ Because, I say it is
so.”
She lowered herself onto
him, engulfing him with the warm tightness of her right there in
the dirt.
He closed his eyes. He was
lost.
He had been with two other
girls in his young life. Both times, those encounters were wild,
frantic couplings. They finished fast, out of fear of discovery.
They’d been nothing like what she had vented upon him than fall
morning. For the next few hours, she brought Ricardo to the brink
of death with throes of ecstasy unlike anything he could’ve
dreamed. His imagination could never have been as vivid, as wicked
or as deprived before he had come across her in the
desert.
She was the
master.
He was the
slave.
He would never leave her.
He would die first.
In the end, she made good
on her promise. She took him, in every way he could deem was
possible.
Marianna White-Horse was
nothing to him now…
*****
Officials from government
entities as such the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security
had espoused the beginning of the incident now known as The Event
at a specific date and time - Wednesday, November 24th at exactly
6:47pm Pacific Standard Time.
In actuality, it had
started months earlier and five hundred, fifty-two miles from its
epicenter. It began with Ricardo Charon, the first child abducted
from Holbrook, Arizona since the end of World War II.
~~~~~~~<<< ᴥ >>>~~~~~~~
Part One:
Chaos Unleashed
Be faithful in small things
because it is in them that your strength lies.
~Mother Teresa.
Don’t walk behind me; I may
not lead.
Don’t walk in front of me;
I may not follow.
Just walk beside me and be
my friend.
~Albert Camus.
~~~~~~~<<< ᴥ >>>~~~~~~~
~ 1 ~
The Tornado Man
Friday, November
26 th ,
the Day after Thanksgiving, 12:58 pm…
Marissa Avalon sat in
front of the huge fifty-two inch HD LCD-TV, worry etching her tiny,
delicate brow. The "wow" effect of last year's Christmas gift from
her father to the family had long worn off. She hardly marveled at
the size of the set anymore.
Instead, she cast her
visage with an expression she seldom wore. Anyone who knew Marissa
would say she possessed a bubbly wit and was always ready with a
warm smile - atypical of some nine-year-old girl's.
She sat on the couch with
her feet dangling in mid-air, her legs far too short to reach the
floor. Her white converse sneakers bounced in front of the images
flashing across the screen before her. Despite the fact she was in
the third grade, she was small in stature. Her features were
little; characteristics that made it appear as though she was in
the second or maybe the first grade.
She had always been small
for her age. Even at birth, she had only weighed four pounds three
ounces, though she was born hale and robust. She was just
diminutive. She stood four-foot-three with a slim frame. She had
light-brown hair, straight, parted down the middle. It hung down to
the
let alone breathe.
“ I want you, because you
are mine. Do you hear me, little man? You belong to me, the
Seeker.”
He did not understand what
she was saying. But, the inference of possession was not lost on
him. He was about to burst out of his shorts. He was the hardest he
had ever been. He imagined his manhood was as hard as
stone.
“ I’m not… yours… to
have…,” he said in rapid bursts, tears streaming from his eyes, and
not just from outrage alone. Her clutch was tremendous.
She brought her face
toward his, her lips a fraction of an inch away. “Since the day you
were born, it was your destiny to be mine.”
“ N-no…,” was all he said
before his clothes were ripped from his body and his was thrown
ruthlessly to the ground.
The last thing he
remembered before she began was her standing above him. Her face
was devoid of emotion as she silently stepped free of her boots,
her feet were bare inside. She shed her garments and was soon naked
in the bright beauty of the day.
“ Why?” he asked, pleading
like a child.
“ Because, I say it is
so.”
She lowered herself onto
him, engulfing him with the warm tightness of her right there in
the dirt.
He closed his eyes. He was
lost.
He had been with two other
girls in his young life. Both times, those encounters were wild,
frantic couplings. They finished fast, out of fear of discovery.
They’d been nothing like what she had vented upon him than fall
morning. For the next few hours, she brought Ricardo to the brink
of death with throes of ecstasy unlike anything he could’ve
dreamed. His imagination could never have been as vivid, as wicked
or as deprived before he had come across her in the
desert.
She was the
master.
He was the
slave.
He would never leave her.
He would die first.
In the end, she made good
on her promise. She took him, in every way he could deem was
possible.
Marianna White-Horse was
nothing to him now…
*****
Officials from government
entities as such the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security
had espoused the beginning of the incident now known as The Event
at a specific date and time - Wednesday, November 24th at exactly
6:47pm Pacific Standard Time.
In actuality, it had
started months earlier and five hundred, fifty-two miles from its
epicenter. It began with Ricardo Charon, the first child abducted
from Holbrook, Arizona since the end of World War II.
~~~~~~~<<< ᴥ >>>~~~~~~~
Part One:
Chaos Unleashed
Be faithful in small things
because it is in them that your strength lies.
~Mother Teresa.
Don’t walk behind me; I may
not lead.
Don’t walk in front of me;
I may not follow.
Just walk beside me and be
my friend.
~Albert Camus.
~~~~~~~<<< ᴥ >>>~~~~~~~
~ 1 ~
The Tornado Man
Friday, November
26 th ,
the Day after Thanksgiving, 12:58 pm…
Marissa Avalon sat in
front of the huge fifty-two inch HD LCD-TV, worry etching her tiny,
delicate brow. The "wow" effect of last year's Christmas gift from
her father to the family had long worn off. She hardly marveled at
the size of the set anymore.
Instead, she cast her
visage with an expression she seldom wore. Anyone who knew Marissa
would say she possessed a bubbly wit and was always ready with a
warm smile - atypical of some nine-year-old girl's.
She sat on the couch with
her feet dangling in mid-air, her legs far too short to reach the
floor. Her white converse sneakers bounced in front of the images
flashing across the screen before her. Despite the fact she was in
the third grade, she was small in stature. Her features were
little; characteristics that made it appear as though she was in
the second or maybe the first grade.
She had always been small
for her age. Even at birth, she had only weighed four pounds three
ounces, though she was born hale and robust. She was just
diminutive. She stood four-foot-three with a slim frame. She had
light-brown hair, straight, parted down the middle. It hung down to
the
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