Oh my word it was so good. Me, with a beautiful woman. In her bedroom. In her bed. Kissing, fondling, and whispering sweet endearments. About to consummate our love we were when it happened. So sudden. So fast. Damn I thought, not again!
Foxes. Cunning. Determined. Murderous.
Broke in through the pop hole they did. There were only two residents. The cockerel Christian Grey and his lady friend Miss Blackrock.
Sadie the German Shepherd and I did our best. Dashing, me naked as the day I was born, from our warm beds when we heard the squawking commotion. Dashing through the dark. Like heroes to the rescue.
Too late. Not a chance in hell, were the thoughts that went through my mind. But he at least was miraculously, still there. Christian Grey, hunkered down in the straw, like a shell shocked soldier, fear in his dull eyes. She was nowhere to be seen, but I knew she was still in the vicinity, hiding. We looked for her, Sadie and I did, but it was dark with shadows and the light from my dying torch was feeble. Our search despite Sadie's sharp nose was fruitless, due in part at least to the scattered feathers and the scent of frightened hen so strong on the ground where she had run in abject terror hither and dither. She could have been anywhere. I was certain though that she was there.
Two sets of gleaming eyes watched mine and Sadie's every move. Waiting, patient and defiant at the other side of the fence Waiting blood crazed to complete their grisly task.
Becoming suddenly aware, in the cold night air, of my nakedness, and the sharpness of hard grass in my feet
- oh that you could have seen me then, the pale moonlight glancing across me, enfolding me, holding, caressing and painting with fifty shades of pale blue, my honed and beautifully perfect nudity. Glistening provocatively over my flawless skin. You would surely have marveled, lusted even, at the sight, and wanted me - I retreated indoors, the loyal Sadie at my side, and went back to my bed and tried desperately to rekindle the dream which had been so violently interrupted. But to no avail. She had gone, my delicious dream woman, never to be seen again.
They came back. I knew they would. They came back and they found her. Dragged her screeching, screeching into the darkness. Screeching till the sudden still silence signaled her end. Poor Miss Blackrock. Poor poor Miss Blackrock.
Poor Mr Christian Grey. He crows forlornly through the day. Alone now.
I could have searched all night and not found her. But maybe I would have. Did I give up too soon? Is he shouting at me? Does he dream too of his perfect lady?