Bury the Children in the Yard: Horror Stories Read online

  He awoke at ten, made some strong coffee, and watched CNN for about an hour before heading to the Vietnamese restaurant on the outskirts of campus. He thought that would be a safe spot since most of the other students would either be engaged in their last day of finals or on the way home. Phuong’s was usually empty anyway.

  Ashley wore a spring green wool peacoat, black snow boots, thick white leggings that stopped above her knees and, as requested, the skirt and pigtails. She waited in front of the restaurant. Steve did his best job of parallel parking, which was still laughable, and got out. He’d been trying to think of something to say and ended up managing only, “Hungry?”

  “Starved,” Ashley said.

  They went inside to eat and make small talk. Comments about the weather. What the other one was going to order. Ashley stripped off her coat. She wore a simple white blouse unbuttoned to reveal just the slightest bit of her cleavage. It was enough for Steve. He tried not to stare at her breasts pressing against the shirt. Padded bras left so much to the imagination.

  “So why aren’t you going home over break?” He hesitated to ask this, thinking it might be something financial. At their school that wasn’t usually much of a problem but there were still plenty of students there on financial aid. Financial aid didn’t cover plane tickets.

  She shrugged. “Mom and Dad travel. They’re in Barbados until March. They offered to fly me out there but, I don’t know, it seemed like a hassle.”

  So money definitely wasn’t the problem. “Barbados in December sure beats the hell out of Ohio. Might be worth the hassle.”

  “Ah, yes, but you’re not there.”

  And she had immediately drawn his attention to the specific reason both of them were there. He almost choked.

  “Well, yes, um, I’m certainly glad you decided to stay behind.”

  “Have you ever fucked a student before?”

  Jesus. He could feel himself blushing. Felt relieved when the waitress brought a plate of spring rolls. But he wasn’t off the hook.

  “So... have you?”

  “Not, uh, not since I was one.”

  She laughed.

  “Have you ever, uh, done something like this with a teacher?”

  She picked up a spring roll, licked her lips, and said, “It’s never been something I’ve wanted before.”

  He picked up a spring roll and took a bite, noting she didn’t directly answer his question.

  They both finished eating fairly quickly. He put her coat on for her, took a deep breath of her hair. He opened the car door for her, waited for her skirt to slide up as she sat in the seat. Then they were on their way to his modest cabin on Furnace Lake, the maintenance of which was the one indulgence he had ever allowed himself. It was one he thought he had paid for every day of his life but he couldn’t seem to part with it. On the ride there, he kept wondering why he didn’t just take her back to his apartment, bang the hell out of her, and be done with the whole sordid affair.

  Maybe she deserved more than that but, in the end, he thought the result would be about the same.

  The cabin was about an hour away in the opposite direction of the college. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have bothered wasting the money to rent his shitty apartment and lived in the cabin year round. The radio was on NPR and he considered asking her what she planned on doing when she graduated just to make polite small talk. He stopped himself, cleared his throat, and said, “So I probably don’t need to really bother with much conversation, huh?” He thought of that story she had written. Whoever she was on the outside was not reflected in that story. Maybe she had tried to show him what she really thought. How she wanted life to be. Who was he to argue with that?

  “Not really. Unless you want to.”

  “Maybe later. But not so much right now. I cannot stop thinking about fucking you.” He glanced over at her. Long enough to catch the smirk and the hint of color flushing her cheeks.

  “I’ve been wet since meeting you at the restaurant.”

  He grabbed her hand and put it on his thigh. More female contact than he’d had in over a decade.

  She scooted toward him in her seat and moved her hand up his thigh until she found his penis. It was hard and she began rubbing it lightly. It stiffened further. He looked down at her hand. Dull silver rings on her thumb and index finger.

  Her thigh was warm on his free hand. He moved it up to her crotch. Even warmer. Her underwear were damp. He wanted to go inside them, but he also enjoyed torturing himself. He found the outline of her labia and began tracing it with his pinky.

  “Are you thinking about my pussy?” Her whisper was full of warm moist breath that reached into his skull.

  “Yes.”

  “You feel pretty hard. Are you thinking about being inside me... Steve?”

  He continued to lightly rub her. “Actually, I’m just thinking of your pussy. What it looks like. What it tastes like.”

  “And you’re so busy driving right now.”

  “A shame.”

  She unfastened her seatbelt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He lifted his ass up off the seat and she tugged his jeans and underwear down past his scrotum, his penis springing free. She dipped her finger in the pre-come gathered at the tip and smeared it around.

  “You have a fine looking cock.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Have you ever done something like this?”

  “I was young once, too... and married. I’ve done just about everything. But that was a very long time ago.”

  “Whatever girls you’ve had, I’m not like them.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Show me.”

  “What are you going to do if I don’t?”

  He wanted to tell her that was okay. It would be all right if she just wanted to talk. But he thought she must be playing with him. Her story had them doing some pretty sick stuff.

  He didn’t say anything.

  She rested her chin on his shoulder. “What if I didn’t exist? I mean, like what if I didn’t have any feelings? And what if no one was watching and you never had to answer for your actions? What if the only thing you had to worry about was your next orgasm? What if that was the only thing that existed?” She wrapped her hand around the length of his cock. “Boys my own age are kids. I get bored with them. I’m only doing this because I thought you might have enough experience and imagination to make it interesting. I’m a sick sick girl.”

  He took his hand from between her legs and grabbed one of her pigtails.

  “Put it in your mouth.”

  She maneuvered around in her seat until sitting on her knees. She leaned over him. He focused on the road, feeling her tongue run up the length of his cock. She stuck the tip of her tongue against the opening of his penis. She opened her mouth and took the head of his penis in. He grabbed the back of her head, pushed it down until she gagged, then let go. He thought of his dick in her mouth, in her throat. She continued to bob her head up and down, slowly. He was almost shaking. He didn’t think he could reach an orgasm while he was driving and still stay on the road. The next pull off he came to, he turned the car into it and put it into park. He let his seat back and used both of his hands to press her head down on his cock. He leaned back and began pumping his hips toward her face. She gagged but made no attempt to back off. He went faster and harder, feeling his penis in her spasming throat. Then he thrust and held it while he came. She backed off, coughed, retched, and wiped some come from her bottom lip. Her eyes were watery but she smiled at him.

  “See. Not so hard.” Her voice was raspy.

  He grabbed her head and pulled her toward him, kissing her, tasting maybe a bit of himself on her tongue.

  They both readjusted themselves and he pulled back onto the road. She asked him if it was okay if she smoked. He said sure. It really didn’t bother him. If it had, he would have told her no. He almost told her no anyway.

  There was a small carry-out a few miles from the cabin. He stopped
there, told her to wait in the car, and went in for some fruit, wine, beer, lunch meat, and bread. It had been a while since he’d had to worry about feeding anyone. He also paid for a couple bundles of wood for the cabin’s fireplace. Maybe it would be a good touch.

  He Didn’t Want to Tell Himself It Was Guilt

  It was still light when they reached the cabin. Steve didn’t think either of them had spoken since he’d come out of the carry-out. Ashley sat there beside him, and he was very aware of that, but he still felt a million miles away. There was something else inside of him too. He didn’t want to tell himself it was guilt. Not after all these years. That would have been ridiculous. The cabin was one of many others surrounding the huge Furnace Lake. The spot was still heavily wooded and mostly invisible from the other cabins. Not that it mattered this time of year. It helped give him the illusion that Furnace Lake wasn’t one of the biggest vacation destinations of the area in the summer. Not that that really meant much in Ohio. There were maybe a couple of boat and bike rental places, the carry-out, a tiny movie theater in what consisted of Furnace Lake’s downtown. The theater, like most of the businesses in town, was only open Memorial Day through Labor Day.

  He unlocked the door and opened it for Ashley. He flipped a light switch and turned the thermostat on the electric baseboard heat up. Soon the place would smell like burning dust, not a completely unpleasant smell. They put their bags on the kitchen counter and he plugged the refrigerator in and pushed it back against the wall.

  “Nice,” Ashley said. “Cozy.”

  “Thanks. It’s not much. Been in the family for years.”

  He rinsed out a couple of coffee mugs, uncorked the wine, and poured a little in each glass. He handed her one of them. She took it with her free hand. The other hand held her phone. A slight smirk tilted her face.

  “This probably isn’t the best stuff in the world,” Steve said. She dismissively nodded at him. “Uh, miss a lot of calls?”

  She put the phone in a pocket in her skirt. “No one under thirty calls anyone anymore.”

  “Ah, yes, texting. An art that never found me.”

  “I’ve always found it interesting how reluctant bookish types are to take up texting. It seems like it was made for you.”

  “Maybe it’s because of what it does to the English language. Or maybe it’s because we’re so quiet most of the time it’s occasionally more exciting to open our mouths. Probably good you have that though. In case of emergencies. I don’t have a cell phone or a landline here. Keeps it peaceful.”

  She took a gulp of the wine. “I’m still kind of wet.” She set the glass back on the counter.

  He polished his wine off and put his hands around her upper arms, leading her to the one bedroom in the back of the house. This room was the smallest and was already pleasantly warm. He turned her to face him and leaned her toward the bed until she lay on her back. This was going to be like unwrapping a present. He wanted to do it a little at a time.

  He parted her knees and lifted up her skirt. She wore boy brief underwear, black and trimmed in white. He slowly pulled them down. She had absolutely no pubic hair. He didn’t mind this at all, although it was the first time he’d actually seen it in the flesh. He kneeled between her legs.

  “So what do you think?” she asked. “It looks like a peach that’s been sliced open, doesn’t it?”

  He looked at it and considered. Then he nodded. “But let’s hope it tastes like you.”

  He kissed all around it, gently sucking and biting in certain places, before running his tongue along the labia, teasing the clitoris, and eventually plunging his tongue inside of her. Her moans seemed to come from very far away. She writhed her hips and he cupped her ass with his hands. He alternately tongued her and sucked away the excess come. Her hands were gripping the back of his head.

  He pulled back and said, “I want to watch you play with yourself now.”

  He pulled her skirt the rest of the way off and moved one of her hands between her legs. She slowly began massaging herself with her fingertips. He stripped off his clothes and went to the head of the bed. He slowly unbuttoned her shirt and unfastened her bra. Her breasts were full and perfectly formed, the nipples an innocent shade of pink. He took one of them in his mouth, massaged the other one with one of his hands, and stroked himself with his remaining hand. She moaned and said his name. Eventually they got under the covers and he slid into her for the first time. They went slow. He was gentle at first. As he approached orgasm, he grabbed her behind the knees, forcing her legs to either side of her head while he pounded into her and she continued moaning that gradually escalated into screaming.

  They lay in bed and held each other for a while before getting up to get something to eat. She checked her phone again and typed off a message in return. Before going back into the bedroom, he made her leave it in the kitchen.

  “I notice you didn’t bring any kind of bag,” he asked.

  “Well, I didn’t think I’d really need the clothes and I wasn’t sure how long we’d be here. I figure you have a shower.”

  “That I do.”

  “I’m a light packer. I don’t like to be responsible for a lot of stuff.”

  When they went back into the bedroom, he spanked her until her skin was hot and red, and then he fucked her in the ass. Afterward, she went to the bathroom and he dozed off. Had the dream.

  Obsession and Insanity

  He woke up momentarily disoriented. Once he realized he was in the cabin and remembered why he was in the cabin, everything seemed to become even more of a dreamlike blur. His eyes were open but it was so dark they may as well have still been closed. He reached over to feel the other side of the bed. Ashley wasn’t there.

  He hadn’t bothered setting the clock in the room, never wore a watch, and didn’t have a cell phone so he had no idea what time it was. He was still completely naked. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, felt around for his pants, and slid them on. He pulled on his sweater and socks, remembering it would be pretty chilly outside the room.

  He went out to the main part of the cabin, expecting to find a light on, Ashley maybe sitting on the couch and reading or something. It was dark and he didn’t see any sign of her.

  The porch light shone in through the front door. He didn’t remember turning it on so he opened the door and leaned out. Ashley sat in one of the wooden deck chairs, texting something and smoking.

  “There you are,” he said.

  She looked at him. It looked like she’d been crying. “Yep.”

  He looked out over the dark lake. It had warmed considerably, not at all unusual for Ohio, and a fog was rolling in. There probably wouldn’t be any visibility come dawn.

  “You going to be out here a while?”

  She held up her cigarette for an answer.

  “Let me grab some shoes. Need anything?”

  “I’m okay.”

  He slipped his shoes on, went to the kitchen to grab the bottle of wine, noting that it had been depleted considerably since their earlier glasses, and grabbed a fleece blanket off the back of the couch.

  He set the blanket on Ashley’s lap and said, “Thought you might be cold.”

  “Thanks.”

  He uncorked the bottle with his teeth and sat down in the chair beside hers. A chill went up his spine. This was too familiar. He wanted to tell her to go grab her things, they needed to go, and then he remembered she hadn’t brought anything. He thought maybe that made it even weirder. Like she could just move right in and take Heidi’s place. Like that was what he’d been waiting for for the past twenty years. The dream still rode his brain hard. He took a healthy slug of the wine. It would either help the dream fade or set the bear trap his mind had become, waiting to obsessively snap down on the littlest thought and stay clamped until it twitched its last.

  But it would never twitch its last. Steve knew that.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” Steve asked.

  “Didn’t try.”


  “You’re being very laconic.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  He chuckled. “I’m not sure I do either.” He took another swig of the wine and passed her the bottle. She took it without protest.

  “How’s your ass?”

  “Sore.” She smiled, but still looked like she was ready to cry.

  “You look like you’ve been crying.”

  She looked out toward the fog gathered on the lake. “Why do they call this place Furnace Lake?”

  “Obsession and insanity.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “Well, this is Ohio’s idea of a resort town. Resort towns don’t happen unless there are people to visit them and spend money there. As it happens, there’s a town about twenty miles to the south called Milltown. Its main industry, at one point, was steel. So one of them came to this lake while the sun was setting and glowing orange like a blast furnace and they decided to name it Furnace Lake. It’s a totally horrible, unromantic, disgusting name.”

  “I agree. It does sound warm though.”

  “But most people are only here in the summer. It seems like a furnace is the last thing you’d want to think about on a sweltering summer day.”

  “You might be right. Do you stay here in the summer?”

  “Usually. Unless I’m teaching summer classes.”

  “Do you plan on doing that this year?”

  “Probably not. I don’t really need the money like I used to. That’s really the only reason any professor gives up his or her summer.”

  “Doesn’t sound fun.”

  “So, yeah, I’ll probably head up here the week after finals. Would you be interested in joining me?” He didn’t even know why he asked that.

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s a little too far in the future.”

  “I know. I don’t even know why I asked. I’ve had a lot of fun today. I guess that’s why. You’ve been very... kind to me.”

  “You act like that doesn’t happen much.”

  “Well, not in that way. It’s been over twenty years since I’ve had sex.”