Sex and Murder Magazine

By James A. Stewart

The last thing I could remember was Geoff buying me a drink in a bar up the west end. It was in a groovy lane, Ashton or Stockwell, or something like that. It didn't matter anyway. I had a thumping sore head and my left side was completely numb. I opened my eyes and all I could see was complete darkness, apart from a small red light blinking at me from what I presumed to be the ceiling given it was directly above where I lay.

When I tried to move I found that my legs and arms were shackled to the bed. I struggled for a bit but it was pointless. I could only move my right side and even then there was no give in my binds. I looked at the blinking light for what seemed like hours, and hypnotised by its unrelenting rhythm, I drifted off. When I awoke it was still there, its pulse unwavering like the perfect metronome. I struggled again, of course, and of course, the binds remained as tight as ever. I wept.

As I lay there crying a voice entered the room; the static of the speakers added a sinister tone to an already unfriendly speech. “Maria, please don't struggle as you'll only damage the goods.”

“What do you mean goods?” I shouted back, my voice hoarse and dry. Only then did I realise how thirsty I was. “Where is Geoff?” I continued.

A pause greeted my retort. It felt like a lifetime. I don't know why I asked for Geoff. I'd only been seeing him for a few weeks. I came from out past Edinburgh and he was from Glasgow, near the airport. It could be that I asked for Geoff as he was the last person I remember seeing. We had met through an online dating agency, both of us widowers in our fifties and both on the same wavelength. On our first date we discovered that we each had 'our needs' and it turned out that these needs were similar. I cut into the pause, its silence tormented me and I screamed for Geoff.

“Geoff is in the next room,” the voice said.

“Can I see him?” I asked, almost pleading.

“All in good time, my dear.” Then silence.

The light blinked, I counted it like the BPM of my heart. It blinked every second. My liaison with the voice confirmed what I had suspected; that this was a camera. I shouted and screamed at it for attention, but the malignant red LED just blinked back at me.

I was roused from another sleep by the voice. This time clearer, more familiar. It was Geoff. “Maria,” he said with velvet smoothness in his voice, “I am coming into your room now. Please lay still.”

A door opened behind me, I could only sense it as it was out of my line of sight. I tried to bend to see him, my saviour, but the pain on my once numb left side was excruciating.

“Ssshh, stay still,” said Geoff as he rubbed my forehead with a damp cloth. I was desperate for some water and would have gladly taken the droplets squeezed from Geoff's cloth there and then.

He moved over to the wall and put on the lights. I was blinded. The glare of the florescent strip lightening torched my eyes and the pain seared in my retinas. I tried three or four times to open my eyes but each time I was beaten by the brightness from above. All through this I held his hand.

The first thing I did when I could open my eyes and focus was to scream. I struggled ten times harder than before. The left side of my torso had been torn away and there were chucks of flesh missing, leaving behind exposed bone in some places. My upper thigh looked as if it had been gnawed by rats.

Geoff's malevolent grin said more than words could.

“I've kept you alive as long as possible, my dear.” I should have recognised his voice earlier but I didn't want to. I was in denial. He was rubbing my naked body as he said this and my skin crawled at the thought of our prior liaisons.

“My needs are much simpler than yours. You were hungry for sex, and me, well I was just hungry.”

“What are you? A Vampire?” I asked between sobs.

“No, my dear,” he said as he positioned his mouth at my right thigh, “Nothing quite so exotic.”


























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