Canna-sempai,
Where do you get this stuff?!?!
Great story, would like to read more...
SHE WOLF
Moderator: Available
-
Allen M.
SHE WOLF
Must be Lori!
------------------
Allen, Home: http://www.ury2k.com/pulse mirror: http://home.ici.net/~uechi/
------------------
Allen, Home: http://www.ury2k.com/pulse mirror: http://home.ici.net/~uechi/
SHE WOLF
This is an exercise in emotion and imagination, and with enough of it, she could be any woman on or off the forums. The messages locked inside are very mysterious, and very much related to women’s self defense!
Panther-san,
Glad you liked it! I will post a bit more of it!
------------------
Van Canna
Panther-san,
Glad you liked it! I will post a bit more of it!
------------------
Van Canna
-
lori macleod-doyle
- Posts: 232
- Joined: Tue Aug 03, 1999 6:01 am
- Location: lr.sackville n.s. canada
SHE WOLF
WOW!!! 
Lori M-D
Lori M-D
SHE WOLF
Van-sensei...very well written...more please! :-)
SHE WOLF
And finally the mysterious city of her dreams!
The greater part of the city is built upon a high hill, which
rises from an extensive plain, but several of its circles extend for some
distance beyond the base of the hill, which is of such a size that the
diameter of the city is upward of two miles,
It is divided into seven rings or huge circles named from the seven
planets, and the way from one to the other of these is by four streets
and through four gates, that look toward the four points of the compass.
Furthermore, it is so built that if the first circle were stormed, it
would of necessity entail a double amount of energy to storm the second;
still more to storm the third; and in each succeeding case the strength
and energy would have to be doubled; so that he who wishes to capture
that city must, as it were, storm it seven times.
When she had been taken through the northern gate (which is shut with an
iron door so wrought that it can be raised and let down, and locked in
easily and strongly, its projections run- ning into the grooves of the
thick posts by a marvellous device), She saw a level space seventy paces[1]
wide between the first and second walls.
From hence can be seen large
palaces, all joined to the wall of the second circuit in such a manner as
to appear all one palace. Arches run on a level with the middle height of
the palaces, and are continued round the whole ring. There are galleries
for promenading upon these arches, which are supported from beneath by
thick and well-shaped columns, en- closing arcades like peristyles, or
cloisters of an abbey.
But the palaces have no entrances from below, except on the inner or
concave partition, from which one enters directly to the lower parts of
the building. The higher parts, however, are reached by flights of marble
steps, which lead to galleries for promenading on the inside similar to
those on the outside.
From these one enters the higher rooms, which are
very beauti- ful, and have windows on the concave and convex partitions.
These rooms are divided from one another by richly decorated walls!
Then the first wall of the second ring is seen
adorned above and below with similar galleries for walking, and there is
on the inside of it another interior wall enclosing palaces. It has also
similar peristyles supported by columns in the lower part, but above are
excellent pictures, round the ways into the upper houses.
And so on
afterward through similar spaces and double walls, enclosing palaces, and
adorned with galleries for walking, extending along their outer side, and
supported by columns, till the last circuit is reached, the way being
still over a level plain.
But when the two gates, that is to say, those of the outmost and the
inmost walls, have been passed, one mounts by means of steps so formed
that an ascent is scarcely discernible, since it proceeds in a slanting
direction, and the steps succeed one another at almost imperceptible
heights. On the top of the hill is a rather spacious plain, and in the
midst of this there rises a temple built with wondrous art.
------------------
Van Canna
The greater part of the city is built upon a high hill, which
rises from an extensive plain, but several of its circles extend for some
distance beyond the base of the hill, which is of such a size that the
diameter of the city is upward of two miles,
It is divided into seven rings or huge circles named from the seven
planets, and the way from one to the other of these is by four streets
and through four gates, that look toward the four points of the compass.
Furthermore, it is so built that if the first circle were stormed, it
would of necessity entail a double amount of energy to storm the second;
still more to storm the third; and in each succeeding case the strength
and energy would have to be doubled; so that he who wishes to capture
that city must, as it were, storm it seven times.
When she had been taken through the northern gate (which is shut with an
iron door so wrought that it can be raised and let down, and locked in
easily and strongly, its projections run- ning into the grooves of the
thick posts by a marvellous device), She saw a level space seventy paces[1]
wide between the first and second walls.
From hence can be seen large
palaces, all joined to the wall of the second circuit in such a manner as
to appear all one palace. Arches run on a level with the middle height of
the palaces, and are continued round the whole ring. There are galleries
for promenading upon these arches, which are supported from beneath by
thick and well-shaped columns, en- closing arcades like peristyles, or
cloisters of an abbey.
But the palaces have no entrances from below, except on the inner or
concave partition, from which one enters directly to the lower parts of
the building. The higher parts, however, are reached by flights of marble
steps, which lead to galleries for promenading on the inside similar to
those on the outside.
From these one enters the higher rooms, which are
very beauti- ful, and have windows on the concave and convex partitions.
These rooms are divided from one another by richly decorated walls!
Then the first wall of the second ring is seen
adorned above and below with similar galleries for walking, and there is
on the inside of it another interior wall enclosing palaces. It has also
similar peristyles supported by columns in the lower part, but above are
excellent pictures, round the ways into the upper houses.
And so on
afterward through similar spaces and double walls, enclosing palaces, and
adorned with galleries for walking, extending along their outer side, and
supported by columns, till the last circuit is reached, the way being
still over a level plain.
But when the two gates, that is to say, those of the outmost and the
inmost walls, have been passed, one mounts by means of steps so formed
that an ascent is scarcely discernible, since it proceeds in a slanting
direction, and the steps succeed one another at almost imperceptible
heights. On the top of the hill is a rather spacious plain, and in the
midst of this there rises a temple built with wondrous art.
------------------
Van Canna
SHE WOLF
The temple is built in the form of a circle; it is not girt with
walls, but stands upon thick columns, beautifully grouped. A very large
dome, built with great care in the centre or pole, contains another
small vault as it were rising out of it, and in this is a spiracle, which
is right over the altar.
There is but one altar in the middle of the
temple, and this is hedged round by columns. The temple itself is on a
space of more than 350 paces. Without it, arches measuring about eight
paces extend from the heads of the columns outward, whence other columns
rise about three paces from the thick, strong, and erect wall Between
these and the former columns there are galleries for walking, with
beautiful pavements, and in the recess of the wall, which is adorned
with numerous large doors, there are immovable seats, placed as it were
between the inside columns, supporting the temple.
Portable chairs are
not wanting, many and well adorned. Nothing is seen over the altar but
a large globe, upon which the heavenly bodies are painted, and another
globe upon which there is a representation of the earth.
Furthermore, in
the vault of the dome there can be discerned representations of all the
stars of heaven from the first to the sixth magnitude, with their proper
names and power to influence terrestrial things marked in three little
verses for each.
There are the poles and greater and lesser circles
according to the right latitude of the place, but these are not perfect
because there is no wall below. They seem, too, to be made in their relation to the globes on the altar.
The pavement of the temple is bright
with precious stones. Its seven golden lamps hang always burning, and
these bear the names of the seven planets.
------------------
Van Canna
walls, but stands upon thick columns, beautifully grouped. A very large
dome, built with great care in the centre or pole, contains another
small vault as it were rising out of it, and in this is a spiracle, which
is right over the altar.
There is but one altar in the middle of the
temple, and this is hedged round by columns. The temple itself is on a
space of more than 350 paces. Without it, arches measuring about eight
paces extend from the heads of the columns outward, whence other columns
rise about three paces from the thick, strong, and erect wall Between
these and the former columns there are galleries for walking, with
beautiful pavements, and in the recess of the wall, which is adorned
with numerous large doors, there are immovable seats, placed as it were
between the inside columns, supporting the temple.
Portable chairs are
not wanting, many and well adorned. Nothing is seen over the altar but
a large globe, upon which the heavenly bodies are painted, and another
globe upon which there is a representation of the earth.
Furthermore, in
the vault of the dome there can be discerned representations of all the
stars of heaven from the first to the sixth magnitude, with their proper
names and power to influence terrestrial things marked in three little
verses for each.
There are the poles and greater and lesser circles
according to the right latitude of the place, but these are not perfect
because there is no wall below. They seem, too, to be made in their relation to the globes on the altar.
The pavement of the temple is bright
with precious stones. Its seven golden lamps hang always burning, and
these bear the names of the seven planets.
------------------
Van Canna
SHE WOLF
She sits at the cliff of the outermost gates, legs dangling over the edge. She watches as the sun finally dips below the horizon, she'd been sitting here for hours.
The connection was infinitely deep, even before they had physically met , a connection, something so incredibly rare to one like her. No matter how she felt on the surface, underneath she wanted, needed the connection. Things would be as they have turned out with or without the draw of the Bond. She waits!
The voice, she hears it calling to her again: it is the voice that brought her here. Has the time finally come?
"Come forth... the moonlight... is thick tonight,"
She releases her mind, she allows her instincts to control her. she walks from the shadows, towards the voice. raises her head slightly, listening to the newcomer's heartbeat, almost losing herself in its melody. She howls very, very softly, "Come out, come out ... the forest burns with your fire."
She trembles, a shiver running through her , not of fear, but of the lust of fire that burns so deeply in her, that consumes her. She would allow it to... stop though, for but a moment. The voice, again.. it haunts her. She knows it from her dream, and the dreams that followed.
Softly in her mind, following the scent of fury; she pauses within easy view of the interloper, bathed in moonlight, fleeting though it may be, a giant black wolf with green eyes.
She opens her eyes, looking at the green-eyed wolf. This is the one that.. shares her fate? The one who will die with her? She is unsure. For the first time since the dream. Unsure. Her instincts scurry away, her mind numb, leaving her alone.
He stops just sort of showing himself at the edge of the woods before it gives way to the rock of the cliff. He shifts from four feet to two, one hand resting on the lowest branch of the tree she is besides, A shiver runs down her spine. She remains perfectly still.
"Is it I that seeks you, or you that seeks me?"
"You seek death... you seek me. I seek an end to solitude, a reason to be. I seek you."
She slowly shifts her form to match. Her small pack, her weapon, form out of nothing as do her clothes, still covered in blood from the night's earlier event, torn and tattered. She seems small, almost frail in this form, the sharp eyes of the wolf replaced by the large, soft eyes of the woman, eyes that seem to twinkle with misplaced innocence as she looks upon him!
He sends his thoughts outward, touching the mind of the woman who sits, still as death – her death, perhaps? She giggles again, lost in rapturous thoughts. Not tonight, little one.
She sends her thoughts of longing and affection, of love and calm, draping them lightly over her other’s mind as she walks forward.
Her eyes bright and alive, she watches meeting his eyes with feral want. Around and around they spun,in a midnight dance, faster and faster, lost in each others madness.
The moon shone brightly down upon them as their dance slowly slowed, as they held each other, looking into their own eyes. They held each other loosely, reveling in the gentle embrace.
Heads tilted in opposite direction as soft lips came together, one cold as the moon, the other hot as the sun. The kiss lasted an eternity! He nuzzles his head against hers, reveling in the closeness. HE returns her embrace, laughter slipping from her lips as a child might, delighted. She quiets, enjoying the quiet closeness. I can hear your thoughts.. calling.. even during the sleeping dreams.
This lovers embrace was so much more then physical coupling The world spun, different scenes and different times flashed around them. Each reveled in the others pain and torment, such different lives but such similarities.
Until dawn they sat together, in each others arms, legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. Each was content in the fleeting contentment of the moment, knowing that it would not last for long.!
She shares her agony, her sorrow, her suffering with him , the hundred of lives she’s lived, the hundred times she’s died, she remembers each so clearly, the pain at knives point.
He embraces this pain as she does her love’s blood. She sobs quietly – joined in torment, so close.. remembered, two thousand years of rejection – of pain and banishment, of humiliation and longing. To be wanted, accepted, two thousand years of self loathing scorn, held tight, within, where no one could see the weakness. Tears slip quietly down her cheeks.
Such an odd creature she is. A combination of raw instinct,
rage and emotion. She's a cracked mirror, spider webbing out from the
center.
Each little bit of her representing something different, acting
differently, but each piece still interconnected. She wasn't always like
this, no, not before the Dream.
“I have become a divided person, in thought and being. I
find that while I am capable of doing anything I as before in whichever form
I was it, the different aspects seem to focus in on specific forms more then
normal. Homid, the form of the ape, the form I now sit curled up in.
It is
what gives me these moments of clarity. It focuses emotions, strengthens
them, whether for good or bad. When I experience strong emotion, I seem
drawn to this form.. love, hate, envy, lust, hatred, rage. I must be in this
form to experience such emotion.. to a point.
Crinos, the form of the
warrior. The form so closest to the Beast within, pure focus of rage. This
form is a magnification for the darker emotions.. hatred, rage, stirring the
Fire within. It is a dangerous form for me, a form that I oft have to keep
very hard to keep out of, for even in the past I could control far less in
this form then my Sisters, and now so it is even more.
When the Fire burns,
and joins with the Rage, when the Lust for Blood makes me vision red, I must
embrace it, I have no other choice, this form allows for no other option. So
I must be careful, I must only use this form when I need to, when the enemy
is greater then my other forms will allow me to deal with. Lupus, the wolf,
my true self. It is still my true self, I have never doubted that. I am
wolf. No matter what form I may be in, or what I may look like, I am wolf.”
What she knows, and the madness that__ that knowledge has brought, has given
her a level of fearlessness and freedom that many would envy. I suppose we
shall leave this to each individual person to judge.
[ From Phaedra’s tales] __ modified for this story!
------------------
Van Canna
The connection was infinitely deep, even before they had physically met , a connection, something so incredibly rare to one like her. No matter how she felt on the surface, underneath she wanted, needed the connection. Things would be as they have turned out with or without the draw of the Bond. She waits!
The voice, she hears it calling to her again: it is the voice that brought her here. Has the time finally come?
"Come forth... the moonlight... is thick tonight,"
She releases her mind, she allows her instincts to control her. she walks from the shadows, towards the voice. raises her head slightly, listening to the newcomer's heartbeat, almost losing herself in its melody. She howls very, very softly, "Come out, come out ... the forest burns with your fire."
She trembles, a shiver running through her , not of fear, but of the lust of fire that burns so deeply in her, that consumes her. She would allow it to... stop though, for but a moment. The voice, again.. it haunts her. She knows it from her dream, and the dreams that followed.
Softly in her mind, following the scent of fury; she pauses within easy view of the interloper, bathed in moonlight, fleeting though it may be, a giant black wolf with green eyes.
She opens her eyes, looking at the green-eyed wolf. This is the one that.. shares her fate? The one who will die with her? She is unsure. For the first time since the dream. Unsure. Her instincts scurry away, her mind numb, leaving her alone.
He stops just sort of showing himself at the edge of the woods before it gives way to the rock of the cliff. He shifts from four feet to two, one hand resting on the lowest branch of the tree she is besides, A shiver runs down her spine. She remains perfectly still.
"Is it I that seeks you, or you that seeks me?"
"You seek death... you seek me. I seek an end to solitude, a reason to be. I seek you."
She slowly shifts her form to match. Her small pack, her weapon, form out of nothing as do her clothes, still covered in blood from the night's earlier event, torn and tattered. She seems small, almost frail in this form, the sharp eyes of the wolf replaced by the large, soft eyes of the woman, eyes that seem to twinkle with misplaced innocence as she looks upon him!
He sends his thoughts outward, touching the mind of the woman who sits, still as death – her death, perhaps? She giggles again, lost in rapturous thoughts. Not tonight, little one.
She sends her thoughts of longing and affection, of love and calm, draping them lightly over her other’s mind as she walks forward.
Her eyes bright and alive, she watches meeting his eyes with feral want. Around and around they spun,in a midnight dance, faster and faster, lost in each others madness.
The moon shone brightly down upon them as their dance slowly slowed, as they held each other, looking into their own eyes. They held each other loosely, reveling in the gentle embrace.
Heads tilted in opposite direction as soft lips came together, one cold as the moon, the other hot as the sun. The kiss lasted an eternity! He nuzzles his head against hers, reveling in the closeness. HE returns her embrace, laughter slipping from her lips as a child might, delighted. She quiets, enjoying the quiet closeness. I can hear your thoughts.. calling.. even during the sleeping dreams.
This lovers embrace was so much more then physical coupling The world spun, different scenes and different times flashed around them. Each reveled in the others pain and torment, such different lives but such similarities.
Until dawn they sat together, in each others arms, legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. Each was content in the fleeting contentment of the moment, knowing that it would not last for long.!
She shares her agony, her sorrow, her suffering with him , the hundred of lives she’s lived, the hundred times she’s died, she remembers each so clearly, the pain at knives point.
He embraces this pain as she does her love’s blood. She sobs quietly – joined in torment, so close.. remembered, two thousand years of rejection – of pain and banishment, of humiliation and longing. To be wanted, accepted, two thousand years of self loathing scorn, held tight, within, where no one could see the weakness. Tears slip quietly down her cheeks.
Such an odd creature she is. A combination of raw instinct,
rage and emotion. She's a cracked mirror, spider webbing out from the
center.
Each little bit of her representing something different, acting
differently, but each piece still interconnected. She wasn't always like
this, no, not before the Dream.
“I have become a divided person, in thought and being. I
find that while I am capable of doing anything I as before in whichever form
I was it, the different aspects seem to focus in on specific forms more then
normal. Homid, the form of the ape, the form I now sit curled up in.
It is
what gives me these moments of clarity. It focuses emotions, strengthens
them, whether for good or bad. When I experience strong emotion, I seem
drawn to this form.. love, hate, envy, lust, hatred, rage. I must be in this
form to experience such emotion.. to a point.
Crinos, the form of the
warrior. The form so closest to the Beast within, pure focus of rage. This
form is a magnification for the darker emotions.. hatred, rage, stirring the
Fire within. It is a dangerous form for me, a form that I oft have to keep
very hard to keep out of, for even in the past I could control far less in
this form then my Sisters, and now so it is even more.
When the Fire burns,
and joins with the Rage, when the Lust for Blood makes me vision red, I must
embrace it, I have no other choice, this form allows for no other option. So
I must be careful, I must only use this form when I need to, when the enemy
is greater then my other forms will allow me to deal with. Lupus, the wolf,
my true self. It is still my true self, I have never doubted that. I am
wolf. No matter what form I may be in, or what I may look like, I am wolf.”
What she knows, and the madness that__ that knowledge has brought, has given
her a level of fearlessness and freedom that many would envy. I suppose we
shall leave this to each individual person to judge.
[ From Phaedra’s tales] __ modified for this story!
------------------
Van Canna
SHE WOLF
This night the Fire burned deep with in her. Dianna called to her, it was time to avenge.
The men, they thought they were so supreme, they thought they could dominate woman, control them, and do as they pleased with them.
They were all the same, on some level, she knew, if they showed it or not. Tonight she would be the hunted. Tonight she would let some man choose his own fate.
To the college she ran this night, her wolf form streaking through the forests. Dianna had told her that places like were ripe for the picking. She shivered in anticipation. The Wild began to give way to the Weaver.
She stopped, shifting, woman once again. This form worked so well for these reverse hunts of hers. So small, frail, delicate she looked. So beautiful in the eyes of the monkeys. Soft, innocent, they came to her every time.
She dropped her things, sliding them under a bush, keeping only the loose linen pants and shirt she wore. Barefoot, as always. Bad enough to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but a wolf in shoes?
She skipped towards a park at the edge of the campus, dark, poor lighting, a perfect setting. She paused, listening, sniffing at the air. Oh, wonderful these senses she had been blessed with. Even in this form she could hear the rustling of grass, smell the sweated scent of man.
Those that stalked the defenseless gave off a distinct scent, she’d always thought. A mixture of adrenaline, fear, sweet, dirt, filth. The scent was strong tonight, her body tingled in anticipation.
She strolled further into the park, arms clasped in front of her, humming a soft tune to herself. She spotted a bench, far off, lit by a single small lamp far above, she moved towards it. The snap of a twig, heavy breathes, the smell.. oh that smell.
So quick, she thought, barely even in the park. She’s going to enjoy this new place.
The man thought himself sneaky, silent, as he moved up behind this woman in front of him. Beautiful, he thought, he was going to enjoy this. He bounded the last ten steps towards her, pushing her from behind; she fell, landing heavy on the ground. So easy, he thought. Yes, tonight was going to be a fun night.
She made a small gasp as her chin hit the ground, forcing her teeth into her tongue. Mmm, the sweet taste of blood. She decided that she was going to pretend to put up a fight for this one.
He rolled her over; sat on her waist, looking down at her through the little holes in the ski mask he wore. He held a knife to her cheek, whispering to her that if she moved, or made a sound, he would kill her.
She moved anyways, shifting back and forth. He dragged his knife, just a fraction, across her cheek, enough to cause small trickle of blood. She shifted again, this time the man brought the pommel of the knife down hard against the side of her head.
She shuddered, such ecstasy in the pain, how she loved it. She managed to scoot forward just a bit, deciding to return pain for pain, perhaps this one liked it as much as I, she thought? She brought her knee up to his crotch.
He made a strangled gasp, agony. Perhaps he didn’t like the pain, after all. She giggled. When the man composed himself, he this time brought the edge of his knife to her neck, whispering sweet obscenities. Telling her how much he was going to enjoy her.
He slowly unbuttoned her shirt; she merely looked up at him, watching him, smiling at him. This infuriated him even more. He pressed his hand to her chin, bending her head to the side and forcing it against the ground. He traced the tip of his knife over her now bare stomach.
She was smiling, he thought, was this sick one actually enjoying it? As disturbed as he was, this disturbed him even more, but he easily shrugged it off.
The one thing he didn’t expect, however, is when her hand darted over and clamped around his knife-wielding first. The tip was against her side now, and she pushed his hand down, about an inch, and then two, of the knife sinking into her.
She moaned in bliss, oh such sweet pain. The man tried to pull his hand back, but couldn’t, her grip was too strong. Like all of the men that she plays with, he boggled at her strength.
She was so frail, not a hint of muscle. She reached up with her other hand, the one that holding her down by the chin, she grasped his wrist and twisted. He cried out in agony.
She shifted her other hand around his other wrist, giving it a twist as well, nearly breaking it. He tried to pull back, she allowed him to, sitting up as he did.
Ohh, poor thing, she whispered to him, don’t know what to do when the fight back and win, do you? She giggled again. She continued to sit forward, moving into a kneel as the man did the same, back away, trying to escape.
She pushed him down, straddling his waist this time. She released his one hand; he was in too much pain from the other to make a move.
She plucked the knife out of the hand, which she still held, looking down at the small amount of blood, her blood, dripping form it.
It was a rather long knife, one of those cheap survival knives, curving edge on one side, serrated on the other. He struggled as she looked down at him, holding the knife.
Now now, she said, you wanted to play, didn’t you? She forced his arm to the ground by the wrist, taking the long knife and stabbing it between his radius and ulna bones just up from the wrist, to the hilt, pinning his arm to the ground. Almost as an afterthought she realized that she just cut through an artery. Oh well.
The man cried out in pain, although it came out as more of a choked gurgle. Aww, I thought you liked pain, she told him. I guess not as much when it’s yours as opposed to mine, hmm?
She reached down again, twisting the knife, turning it in a half circle. Hmm.. He’s no fun, she thought, how boring. She glanced up, looking towards the rest of the campus. It would take him at least fifteen minutes to find someone. He’d be long dead by then. Nah, she thought, she was already here, might as well enjoy it to the end.
The blood was flowing fast from the wound on his arm; he was starting to go into shock. She looked down at him, staring into his eyes. He met her gaze, for the first time seeing the Fire that burned so hot in hers. So hot, it seemed, his very soul shuddered.
So, you like hurting women, do you? Cutting them, hitting them, raping them? Hurt hurt hurt, is that all you men know how to do? Not very fun when you’re the one getting hurt, is it? Are you sorry? Maybe I’d let you go if you were sorry, hmm?
The man began to speak, rambling, begging forgiveness, begging her, begging his god, begging everything he could think of. The fear he gave off, she could smell it, so strong, almost intoxicating.
Oh you poor, stupid thing. Why did you do it? Don’t you know that nothing goes unpunished? For every time of wrong, there is someone out there whose job it is to punish.
I know, I know the demons coming for me; they come for all of us, eventually. I guess I’m your demon, aren’t I? His rambling became babbling, his body sinking into a deep shock, no longer capable of solid thought.
Drat, I knew I shouldn’t have twisted that knife, she said to him; you’re dying much to quickly. She sighed a small sigh. Well, you’re boring anyways.
She reached down, pulled the knife out, keeping his arm to the ground with her other hand so it didn’t rise with the knife. She leaned down, gave him small kiss on the chin, leaving a bloody lip mark from her bleeding tongue.
She sat back up and brought the knife down through his neck, through his larynx, through his spine, to the ground.
She got up, buttoned her shirt back up.
She walked back towards the woods and her things, enjoying the pain from the deep cut in her side as she went.
[From Phaedra's tales]
------------------
Van Canna
The men, they thought they were so supreme, they thought they could dominate woman, control them, and do as they pleased with them.
They were all the same, on some level, she knew, if they showed it or not. Tonight she would be the hunted. Tonight she would let some man choose his own fate.
To the college she ran this night, her wolf form streaking through the forests. Dianna had told her that places like were ripe for the picking. She shivered in anticipation. The Wild began to give way to the Weaver.
She stopped, shifting, woman once again. This form worked so well for these reverse hunts of hers. So small, frail, delicate she looked. So beautiful in the eyes of the monkeys. Soft, innocent, they came to her every time.
She dropped her things, sliding them under a bush, keeping only the loose linen pants and shirt she wore. Barefoot, as always. Bad enough to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but a wolf in shoes?
She skipped towards a park at the edge of the campus, dark, poor lighting, a perfect setting. She paused, listening, sniffing at the air. Oh, wonderful these senses she had been blessed with. Even in this form she could hear the rustling of grass, smell the sweated scent of man.
Those that stalked the defenseless gave off a distinct scent, she’d always thought. A mixture of adrenaline, fear, sweet, dirt, filth. The scent was strong tonight, her body tingled in anticipation.
She strolled further into the park, arms clasped in front of her, humming a soft tune to herself. She spotted a bench, far off, lit by a single small lamp far above, she moved towards it. The snap of a twig, heavy breathes, the smell.. oh that smell.
So quick, she thought, barely even in the park. She’s going to enjoy this new place.
The man thought himself sneaky, silent, as he moved up behind this woman in front of him. Beautiful, he thought, he was going to enjoy this. He bounded the last ten steps towards her, pushing her from behind; she fell, landing heavy on the ground. So easy, he thought. Yes, tonight was going to be a fun night.
She made a small gasp as her chin hit the ground, forcing her teeth into her tongue. Mmm, the sweet taste of blood. She decided that she was going to pretend to put up a fight for this one.
He rolled her over; sat on her waist, looking down at her through the little holes in the ski mask he wore. He held a knife to her cheek, whispering to her that if she moved, or made a sound, he would kill her.
She moved anyways, shifting back and forth. He dragged his knife, just a fraction, across her cheek, enough to cause small trickle of blood. She shifted again, this time the man brought the pommel of the knife down hard against the side of her head.
She shuddered, such ecstasy in the pain, how she loved it. She managed to scoot forward just a bit, deciding to return pain for pain, perhaps this one liked it as much as I, she thought? She brought her knee up to his crotch.
He made a strangled gasp, agony. Perhaps he didn’t like the pain, after all. She giggled. When the man composed himself, he this time brought the edge of his knife to her neck, whispering sweet obscenities. Telling her how much he was going to enjoy her.
He slowly unbuttoned her shirt; she merely looked up at him, watching him, smiling at him. This infuriated him even more. He pressed his hand to her chin, bending her head to the side and forcing it against the ground. He traced the tip of his knife over her now bare stomach.
She was smiling, he thought, was this sick one actually enjoying it? As disturbed as he was, this disturbed him even more, but he easily shrugged it off.
The one thing he didn’t expect, however, is when her hand darted over and clamped around his knife-wielding first. The tip was against her side now, and she pushed his hand down, about an inch, and then two, of the knife sinking into her.
She moaned in bliss, oh such sweet pain. The man tried to pull his hand back, but couldn’t, her grip was too strong. Like all of the men that she plays with, he boggled at her strength.
She was so frail, not a hint of muscle. She reached up with her other hand, the one that holding her down by the chin, she grasped his wrist and twisted. He cried out in agony.
She shifted her other hand around his other wrist, giving it a twist as well, nearly breaking it. He tried to pull back, she allowed him to, sitting up as he did.
Ohh, poor thing, she whispered to him, don’t know what to do when the fight back and win, do you? She giggled again. She continued to sit forward, moving into a kneel as the man did the same, back away, trying to escape.
She pushed him down, straddling his waist this time. She released his one hand; he was in too much pain from the other to make a move.
She plucked the knife out of the hand, which she still held, looking down at the small amount of blood, her blood, dripping form it.
It was a rather long knife, one of those cheap survival knives, curving edge on one side, serrated on the other. He struggled as she looked down at him, holding the knife.
Now now, she said, you wanted to play, didn’t you? She forced his arm to the ground by the wrist, taking the long knife and stabbing it between his radius and ulna bones just up from the wrist, to the hilt, pinning his arm to the ground. Almost as an afterthought she realized that she just cut through an artery. Oh well.
The man cried out in pain, although it came out as more of a choked gurgle. Aww, I thought you liked pain, she told him. I guess not as much when it’s yours as opposed to mine, hmm?
She reached down again, twisting the knife, turning it in a half circle. Hmm.. He’s no fun, she thought, how boring. She glanced up, looking towards the rest of the campus. It would take him at least fifteen minutes to find someone. He’d be long dead by then. Nah, she thought, she was already here, might as well enjoy it to the end.
The blood was flowing fast from the wound on his arm; he was starting to go into shock. She looked down at him, staring into his eyes. He met her gaze, for the first time seeing the Fire that burned so hot in hers. So hot, it seemed, his very soul shuddered.
So, you like hurting women, do you? Cutting them, hitting them, raping them? Hurt hurt hurt, is that all you men know how to do? Not very fun when you’re the one getting hurt, is it? Are you sorry? Maybe I’d let you go if you were sorry, hmm?
The man began to speak, rambling, begging forgiveness, begging her, begging his god, begging everything he could think of. The fear he gave off, she could smell it, so strong, almost intoxicating.
Oh you poor, stupid thing. Why did you do it? Don’t you know that nothing goes unpunished? For every time of wrong, there is someone out there whose job it is to punish.
I know, I know the demons coming for me; they come for all of us, eventually. I guess I’m your demon, aren’t I? His rambling became babbling, his body sinking into a deep shock, no longer capable of solid thought.
Drat, I knew I shouldn’t have twisted that knife, she said to him; you’re dying much to quickly. She sighed a small sigh. Well, you’re boring anyways.
She reached down, pulled the knife out, keeping his arm to the ground with her other hand so it didn’t rise with the knife. She leaned down, gave him small kiss on the chin, leaving a bloody lip mark from her bleeding tongue.
She sat back up and brought the knife down through his neck, through his larynx, through his spine, to the ground.
She got up, buttoned her shirt back up.
She walked back towards the woods and her things, enjoying the pain from the deep cut in her side as she went.
[From Phaedra's tales]
------------------
Van Canna
SHE WOLF
“She slowed, and then stopped. She’d been running for over a week, since the night the far away voice had first called to her. She ran until she collapsed from exhaustion. She slept until she regained her energy. She then ran again. Extremes. But wasn’t her whole life lived in extremes?
She stood perfectly still in the darkness of the night, all but invisible save for the small bit of moonlight that shined from the streaks of silver in her otherwise pitch black coat.
She smelled the blood, the fear soaked blood, a split second before she heard the muffled gasp.
She looked into the clearing, saw the source of the disturbance. She saw the man leaning over the bloodied woman, the woman who's clothed ripped to shreds. She saw the bloodied knife in his hands. She saw the man, fumbling to remove his pants, even though this woman he knelt over was obviously dead.
She shifted, slowly, quietly, her fur retracting into her skin, her nails shortening while her fingers lengthened. Her head took on a more rounded shape as her snout flattened.
She stood, now looking as human as the man before her, as the dead woman he knelt over. She slipped off the pack that had emerged with her human side, laying it on the ground. She took the long sword which had also appeared, which seemed so out of place on her small form, and leaned it against a tree.
She was now dressed in simple, soft linens. Old style trousers and tunic, black as the night, which contrasted her now pale skin. She wore nothing else, on hands, arms, or feet. In almost a disconnected state, she slowly walked into the clearing.
The man did not see her, or sense her, until she was almost standing right next to him. He quickly stood, his baggy jeans falling to his ankles. A small clank as the belt buckle bumped to the ground. In took in a sharp breath as he looked upon her. Her panging beauty, her frail, her large, soft blue eyes framed by her long black hair. He did not think about where she came from, how or why she was here. He only knew that he wanted this one more then the last. His mouth bent up into a creep grin as he dragged the back of his hand across his chin, leaving a large smear of his last victims blood.
She shuddered as the blood coated knife bit into her shoulder, tearing through skin and muscle, scrapping against bone. She did not shudder in pain, but because of the pain. She shuddered in the ecstasy the pain brought. The ecstasy so intense that it threatened to dominate her. She closed her eyes for but a moment to savor the pain, to see the faintest touches of red that now crept along the edge of her vision.
The man was to engrossed in his lust to hurt, his lust to dominate, that his rational mind failed to function. He again did not think of why she was here. He did not ponder why she had so openly approached him. He did not stop to fathom why she made no move to defend herself as he stabbed the knife into her shoulder. He took no pause to realize that she should of screamed in pain as the top of the knife hit bone, why she instead moaned in pleasure.
He pushed her to the ground, the knife still buried in her shoulder. He stopped again to look down at her, almost in awe of her beauty. His lust burned even hotter as he kneeled down over her, as he brought the back of his fist down against her chin and mouth, and again. He figured her to be dazed, in a state of shock, in such pain that she was not capable of resisting. He reached down and began to tear off her clothing.
She remained there, motionless, allowing the man to delve further into his fantasy, so that when he was snapped from it, it would be all the more horrid for him. She savored the pain a moment longer, tasted the blood that was flowing freely from her split lip.
She felt the man grabbing hungrily at her now bare breast, a look of evil insanity in his eye. She moved, deciding to play her part. She struggled, although with no heart behind it, enjoying the little game.
Her now present resistance annoyed the man, it angered him. He raised his fist again, this time baring his knuckled down towards the side of her head.
But then, he could not figure out how her hand had raised to be in its path so quickly. He could not comprehend how her little hand grasped his larger fist, how she squeezed so tightly that he could not pull his hand back. How could such a little thing, who had no sign of any muscle, be so strong? He was snapped even further from his delusion as she began to squeeze, and the pain started to register.
She looked up at him, from her prone position. The look of shock on his face amused her, she giggled, albeit for a split moment. She tilted her head, just a bit, still looking up at him with those large, soft, blue eyes of hers, almost an expression of… innocent curiosity? How out of place it was, for someone who had what she held inside of her. She relaxed her body, all but her hand that held the man’s fist.
She slowly allowed herself to begin the shift back to her natural state. No, she thought. She will not go that far, she won’t let the man’s mind be taken by the delirium, she wanted him to comprehend what was happening to him.
So she stopped, her body shape now the same as it was, although larger, the muscles that should have been there to support her strength earlier now clearly present. Her nails had lengthened some, digging into the wrist of the man. Her strength was more then doubled now, her once painful squeezing now becoming agonizing as the bone and cartilage in the man’s hand began to crack under the pressure of her squeeze.
He screamed in his agony, watching his hand slowly being crushed to pulp, being able to do nothing about it. She raised her own voice with his, the pitch and volume of her scream so high that it stung the man’s eardrums, not that he was capable of noticing.
She did not scream in agony though, as he did, her scream was one of bliss, one of sorrow, one of insanity. Her scream slowly lessened with his, the man loosing the ability to continue. His was in a state of shock now, both physical and mental.
He looked down at her, most of his mind no longer functioning. His hand was crushed, nothing but pulp, destroyed beyond the point of healing. What was left of his mind was strangely clear though. He looked down at her, he saw the madness in her eyes, the madness that had been there before, which he had failed to notice. He remained deathly still as she reached up with her other clawed hand.
She seemed almost tender as she wiped away the single tear that trailed down his cheek. He found that he was in love with this woman.. creature.. beast.. thing.. that he still knelt over. A love so strong that he felt his heart would burst as his hand had, even knowing that he was very short in life now.
He actually died in peace. Happiness. He didn’t feel, or even know, as she reached her hand across his throat and crushed his larynx. He didn’t feel, or know, as her claws dug into the back of his neck, wrapping around his spine.
She leaned up to him, reveling in the feeling of her power, of the pain from the knife that dug even deeper as she moved her arm.
She pressed her mouth to his in a kiss then, a kiss of the dark passion that burned her from the inside. He closed his eyes just as she twisted the wrist of the hand she had wrapped around his spine. She continued the death kiss a moment longer before letting his dead body slip to the ground.
She pulled the knife from her shoulder and casually tossed it aside as she walked back to her things at the edge of the clearing. She decided that she did not need food, after all. She was close to the voice now, she would probably reach it before the sun rose.
She slipped her pack back on, strapped the sword once again to her back. She began to walk towards the voice, which no one but her could hear. She shifted back to her true self, that of the wolf as she walked. She started to run. Fast, and faster, pushing herself to and beyond her limits. She had to reach the voice. The voice of her destiny.. no, not her destiny. The voice of her fate. Her dark fate.
She caught a glimpse of light, still very far off. The shimmering of this city of ……., this place they call ……
She knew that is where her fate would be decided (but then again.. it already was decided, wasn’t it?)
She pushed herself on even harder. She ran through the forests, she was wolf. She was free today, she was woman!!
[From Phaedra's tales]
------------------
Van Canna
[This message has been edited by Van Canna (edited July 21, 2000).]
[This message has been edited by Lori (edited July 26, 2000).]
She stood perfectly still in the darkness of the night, all but invisible save for the small bit of moonlight that shined from the streaks of silver in her otherwise pitch black coat.
She smelled the blood, the fear soaked blood, a split second before she heard the muffled gasp.
She looked into the clearing, saw the source of the disturbance. She saw the man leaning over the bloodied woman, the woman who's clothed ripped to shreds. She saw the bloodied knife in his hands. She saw the man, fumbling to remove his pants, even though this woman he knelt over was obviously dead.
She shifted, slowly, quietly, her fur retracting into her skin, her nails shortening while her fingers lengthened. Her head took on a more rounded shape as her snout flattened.
She stood, now looking as human as the man before her, as the dead woman he knelt over. She slipped off the pack that had emerged with her human side, laying it on the ground. She took the long sword which had also appeared, which seemed so out of place on her small form, and leaned it against a tree.
She was now dressed in simple, soft linens. Old style trousers and tunic, black as the night, which contrasted her now pale skin. She wore nothing else, on hands, arms, or feet. In almost a disconnected state, she slowly walked into the clearing.
The man did not see her, or sense her, until she was almost standing right next to him. He quickly stood, his baggy jeans falling to his ankles. A small clank as the belt buckle bumped to the ground. In took in a sharp breath as he looked upon her. Her panging beauty, her frail, her large, soft blue eyes framed by her long black hair. He did not think about where she came from, how or why she was here. He only knew that he wanted this one more then the last. His mouth bent up into a creep grin as he dragged the back of his hand across his chin, leaving a large smear of his last victims blood.
She shuddered as the blood coated knife bit into her shoulder, tearing through skin and muscle, scrapping against bone. She did not shudder in pain, but because of the pain. She shuddered in the ecstasy the pain brought. The ecstasy so intense that it threatened to dominate her. She closed her eyes for but a moment to savor the pain, to see the faintest touches of red that now crept along the edge of her vision.
The man was to engrossed in his lust to hurt, his lust to dominate, that his rational mind failed to function. He again did not think of why she was here. He did not ponder why she had so openly approached him. He did not stop to fathom why she made no move to defend herself as he stabbed the knife into her shoulder. He took no pause to realize that she should of screamed in pain as the top of the knife hit bone, why she instead moaned in pleasure.
He pushed her to the ground, the knife still buried in her shoulder. He stopped again to look down at her, almost in awe of her beauty. His lust burned even hotter as he kneeled down over her, as he brought the back of his fist down against her chin and mouth, and again. He figured her to be dazed, in a state of shock, in such pain that she was not capable of resisting. He reached down and began to tear off her clothing.
She remained there, motionless, allowing the man to delve further into his fantasy, so that when he was snapped from it, it would be all the more horrid for him. She savored the pain a moment longer, tasted the blood that was flowing freely from her split lip.
She felt the man grabbing hungrily at her now bare breast, a look of evil insanity in his eye. She moved, deciding to play her part. She struggled, although with no heart behind it, enjoying the little game.
Her now present resistance annoyed the man, it angered him. He raised his fist again, this time baring his knuckled down towards the side of her head.
But then, he could not figure out how her hand had raised to be in its path so quickly. He could not comprehend how her little hand grasped his larger fist, how she squeezed so tightly that he could not pull his hand back. How could such a little thing, who had no sign of any muscle, be so strong? He was snapped even further from his delusion as she began to squeeze, and the pain started to register.
She looked up at him, from her prone position. The look of shock on his face amused her, she giggled, albeit for a split moment. She tilted her head, just a bit, still looking up at him with those large, soft, blue eyes of hers, almost an expression of… innocent curiosity? How out of place it was, for someone who had what she held inside of her. She relaxed her body, all but her hand that held the man’s fist.
She slowly allowed herself to begin the shift back to her natural state. No, she thought. She will not go that far, she won’t let the man’s mind be taken by the delirium, she wanted him to comprehend what was happening to him.
So she stopped, her body shape now the same as it was, although larger, the muscles that should have been there to support her strength earlier now clearly present. Her nails had lengthened some, digging into the wrist of the man. Her strength was more then doubled now, her once painful squeezing now becoming agonizing as the bone and cartilage in the man’s hand began to crack under the pressure of her squeeze.
He screamed in his agony, watching his hand slowly being crushed to pulp, being able to do nothing about it. She raised her own voice with his, the pitch and volume of her scream so high that it stung the man’s eardrums, not that he was capable of noticing.
She did not scream in agony though, as he did, her scream was one of bliss, one of sorrow, one of insanity. Her scream slowly lessened with his, the man loosing the ability to continue. His was in a state of shock now, both physical and mental.
He looked down at her, most of his mind no longer functioning. His hand was crushed, nothing but pulp, destroyed beyond the point of healing. What was left of his mind was strangely clear though. He looked down at her, he saw the madness in her eyes, the madness that had been there before, which he had failed to notice. He remained deathly still as she reached up with her other clawed hand.
She seemed almost tender as she wiped away the single tear that trailed down his cheek. He found that he was in love with this woman.. creature.. beast.. thing.. that he still knelt over. A love so strong that he felt his heart would burst as his hand had, even knowing that he was very short in life now.
He actually died in peace. Happiness. He didn’t feel, or even know, as she reached her hand across his throat and crushed his larynx. He didn’t feel, or know, as her claws dug into the back of his neck, wrapping around his spine.
She leaned up to him, reveling in the feeling of her power, of the pain from the knife that dug even deeper as she moved her arm.
She pressed her mouth to his in a kiss then, a kiss of the dark passion that burned her from the inside. He closed his eyes just as she twisted the wrist of the hand she had wrapped around his spine. She continued the death kiss a moment longer before letting his dead body slip to the ground.
She pulled the knife from her shoulder and casually tossed it aside as she walked back to her things at the edge of the clearing. She decided that she did not need food, after all. She was close to the voice now, she would probably reach it before the sun rose.
She slipped her pack back on, strapped the sword once again to her back. She began to walk towards the voice, which no one but her could hear. She shifted back to her true self, that of the wolf as she walked. She started to run. Fast, and faster, pushing herself to and beyond her limits. She had to reach the voice. The voice of her destiny.. no, not her destiny. The voice of her fate. Her dark fate.
She caught a glimpse of light, still very far off. The shimmering of this city of ……., this place they call ……
She knew that is where her fate would be decided (but then again.. it already was decided, wasn’t it?)
She pushed herself on even harder. She ran through the forests, she was wolf. She was free today, she was woman!!
[From Phaedra's tales]
------------------
Van Canna
[This message has been edited by Van Canna (edited July 21, 2000).]
[This message has been edited by Lori (edited July 26, 2000).]
SHE WOLF
The urge of the wild is strong within you. Kill or be killed, survival of the fittest - these age-old instincts are imprinted in the deepest recesses of your brain. Let the others talk of merciful Gaia all they wish - you know Mother Nature takes no prisoners. The surest way to render yourself safe from harm is to place yourself firmly at the top of the food chain - whether this "food chain" is metaphorical or all too carnal depends on you.
She wants to hunt, she wants to kill. She is an Amazon of Dianna. Even more then the average Fury, she rages against those men that would hurt women. She seeks them out, or lets them seek her out. Whichever her method, the result is the same, the man ends up dead. She floats between these two states, impossible to tell when they will come and go.
------------------
Van Canna
[This message has been edited by Lori (edited July 26, 2000).]
She wants to hunt, she wants to kill. She is an Amazon of Dianna. Even more then the average Fury, she rages against those men that would hurt women. She seeks them out, or lets them seek her out. Whichever her method, the result is the same, the man ends up dead. She floats between these two states, impossible to tell when they will come and go.
------------------
Van Canna
[This message has been edited by Lori (edited July 26, 2000).]
SHE WOLF
Canna-sempai,
Thank you...
Excellent! Where can I find/get Phaedra's Tales? These are great! The description of the seven walled city weaves a perfect mental image...
woah... What great mental pictures, what intriguing metamorphical possibilities...
Thank you...
Excellent! Where can I find/get Phaedra's Tales? These are great! The description of the seven walled city weaves a perfect mental image...
woah... What great mental pictures, what intriguing metamorphical possibilities...
-
Jackie Olsen
- Posts: 619
- Joined: Fri Sep 18, 1998 6:01 am
- Contact:
SHE WOLF
Van ...
What you have posted brings tears to my eyes and deeply moves my soul. Sometimes, late at night most often during the full moon, the memories return and the body knowing is felt collectively among the feminine. Everything is born of woman ... as the life giver, she is also the death bringer ...
I am a woman of deep waters
I am a woman touched by the gods,
I am a woman of fire,
I am a woman of spirit,
I am a woman of light,
I am a woman of the night ...
I am a woman of lightening and thunder,
I roar, I shout, I scream ... I cry.
I create this world, I protect this world,
And in the end I consume this world.
I am woman ... and that is your deepest fear.
Jackie
What you have posted brings tears to my eyes and deeply moves my soul. Sometimes, late at night most often during the full moon, the memories return and the body knowing is felt collectively among the feminine. Everything is born of woman ... as the life giver, she is also the death bringer ...
I am a woman of deep waters
I am a woman touched by the gods,
I am a woman of fire,
I am a woman of spirit,
I am a woman of light,
I am a woman of the night ...
I am a woman of lightening and thunder,
I roar, I shout, I scream ... I cry.
I create this world, I protect this world,
And in the end I consume this world.
I am woman ... and that is your deepest fear.
Jackie
