The Dunloch Prophecy Fulfilled.

Grabbing the handle, I gave the spade a twist. The ground shuddered and the trees shook their branches, like limbs being stretched after a long sleep. It was open. Now it must be protected, if not by my death, then by my life. I shifted my grip on the spade, holding it like the spear it suddenly feels like it was always meant to be - this is it's destiny as much as mine. My pursuer had not fulfilled his role - my blood had not yet been spilled. They or he or she would not try again. Not now. A Dunloch was standing over the sacred doorway at the fairy bridge and it had been opened. They or he or she had failed to prevent it. Another shot rang out - a bullet not meant for me  - and a dull thud followed. I lowered my weapon, I no longer needed defending. 

I knelt, scooped and swept away the dirt until I uncovered the inscription that had been sung and chanted and whispered in the halls of every residence ever occupied by the members of my family tree. I whispered the words once in homage. 

Pulling the knife from its place in the scabbard wrapped around my thigh. Chanting the sacred words, I drew my knife across my palm and let the blood drop. 

the find

Allanah looked at her watch - only half an hour left and the carboot sale would be over. She had to hurry, she couldn't let Graham win. She'd hear all about it, until next months boot sale. He really did not need to have his completely incorrect belief that he was better at finding hidden treasures validated. Tables were being packed away, spaces appeared where cars had vacated. She'd visited every table and had found nothing. Showing up empty handed was not an option. She could see Graham's smug face now. 

The sound of a mechanical melody wafted on the air, the tune luring her the right. It was coming from the very back right-hand corner of a still very cluttered table. Hidden amongst the kitschiest tat she had ever seen, was a gorgeous but clearly long-forgotten jewellery box. Dust clinging to the detailing etched into it's mahogany sides. Perfect. A diamond in the rough. 

Negotiation was quick, and Allanah rushed him, proud of her purchase. Graham's antique vase was nothing in comparison. 

Admiring it later, at home, and listening to it's tune, she noticed that it appeared bigger on the outside than on the inside. A false bottom. 

Digging the removable board out, she found an emerald green, velvet pouch, and inside, wedding rings of various designs ages and sizes.  

Unladylike

"I'll go willingly, but you are going to have to throw me." Unwavering and defiant, stood at the edge of the ship, waiting for the pirate captain to make his move.

"Ava, NO!" a calloused fist slammed into Phillip's jaw before he could utter another word.

The band of seadogs parted like the Red Sea as their captain stalked towards the woman who dared not to fear the dreaded pirate Captain Roberts. Roberts stopped not a foot from Ava, seasoned sailors and fierce pirates had cowered before him, but this dainty little girl barely flinched. She stared him down with an intensity that equalled his intimidation.

"Walk. The Plank. Little Miss Pain in the Ass." Captain Roberts' voice was as rough as the sea during a perfect storm. But Ava would not be swayed.

"Throw me overboard." Her voice as steady as the her gaze, she was a proud silhouette against the horizon. 

Captain Roberts paused for a millisecond. This woman was surprising. Not the damsel in distress he was expecting. He watched, brows furrowed and still radiating aggression as she removed her shoes.

"I'll make it easier for you. Just be warned, you think I'm bad luck on this boat, I'll be worse in the sea."

No man had ever dared threaten Roberts in over a decade, at least non-hollow threats. He almost believed her, she seemed so determined. He wasn't scared, but he was impressed. She would still need to go - women on ships were bad luck and he didn't need that with the storm that was coming.

Ava hitched her skirt up so that her ankles up to her knees were exposed. Phillip, scandalised, gasped.

"Ava. What are you doing? That is not like you. It is so unlady-like."

For the first time since the captain had ordered her overboard, Ava's stare left the Captain, and, disgusted, landed on her fiance.

"Oh, Phillip. You have never understood me." Thank god she was escaping a loveless marriage to a man she had no respect, let alone affection, for. "I don't want to be lady-like."

She climbed onto the side of the ship.

"I want to lure men to their deaths." With one last sneer sent in Phillip's direction, Ava turned back to address Captain Roberts.

"One little push, Captain. That's all it would take. One. Little. Shove."

"I could just shoot you." the Captain snarled.

"You could, but you are smarted than that." Ava smirked, "Bullets need to be saved. They're better used for threats and people putting up a fight. I am currently neither. Throwing me overboard would not involve resistance or a wasted bullet."

"You are annoying me now. Get off my ship."

"Make me."

The crew had been silent. They had no idea what was about to happen. The captain almost seemed to be entertained by this negotiation. No one negotiated with Captain Roberts.

Captain Roberts grabbed Ava roughly by the waist. No one, possibly including the Captain himself, was sure if she was about to be thrown over the side of the ship or over the captain's shoulder and into his cabin.

With one quick move, Ava was falling through the air towards the sea as the black clouds crackled. Phillip fought against his captors to run towards the spot that Ava had just disappeared from. At the captain's signal, the pirates holding Phillip back, let him go. Phillip launched himself to the edge of the ship.

"If you want to live, you men better get back to work." And with that, Captain Roberts strode back to his cabin.

Phillip watched helplessly as Ava lay, floating on her back, her skirt and long tresses fanned out around her. She looked so peaceful, while he was filled with terror.

Three pairs of scaly arms, with what looked like find attached, reached out from the depths and wrapped around Ava's body and began to drag her down into the ocean as the first crack of thundr bellowed through the sky. Lightning lit up the sky as the last sign of Ava disappeared into the blackness.

Dear Mellie

Dear Mellie, 

I hope he makes you laugh. Truly, I do. I fell in love with your laugh, I'm sure he has too. I fell in love with the way you made me laugh. We used to laugh all the time. Do you remember? We don't laugh anymore. I've almost forgotten what your laugh even sounds like. It used to be my favourite sound and, now, it doesn't even exist in my memories. 
I'll always love you, Mellie Moo. But it's not the same anymore. You don't feel the same anymore. I know you don't. And, if I'm being honest with myself, I don't either. I can't hold on anymore. I can't keep holding you back. You want to be with him, we both know you do. Thanks for not acting on it while we were still technically a couple. It's ok now. Go be happy. 

We are strangers who knew each other once, but we are trapped together. Trapped in this house, trapped in this hollow husk of a relationship. If we can still call it that at this point. 

I do love you Mellie. I love you enough to let you go. 

reincarnation

I had been sat in the booth for the past half hour, sipping a large glass of the house white, though the amount of wine had not seemed to change in the past thirty minutes. I wasn't in the mood for sitting alone in a half empty pub on a Tuesday night, but it was better than going home. Moving in with my best friend and her flatmate had seemed like such a good idea. Then the drama kicked off. Sleeping with Micah was an impulse - and a lot of fun - but was definitely not the smartest thing I had ever done. But we were both adults, and friends, so they had drawn a line under it and moved on. 

Then Micah and Ellie had started dating. Being a third-wheel in your own home was awkward enough, it was even worse when you have had sex with one member of the couple, who then tells their girlfriend. There had been no big blow up, no confrontation - just a whole load of passive aggressive bullshit. 

All three of us know it would be better for everyone if I moved out, but I have nowhere to go apart from back to my parents' place - and living with my mum again would be so bad for my mental health. Plus, why should I move out? I hadn't done anything wrong. The spiteful streak in me wanted Ellie to have to continue suffering if she was going to be this much of a bitch. I'd tried to talk to everything through with Ellie, but she keeps throwing it in my face. 'I'd rather not hear the sordid details of you sex with my boyfriend.' accompanied by her trademark sneer. 

I was so lost in my thoughts that it took me a moment to realise that someone was standing next to my table, looking at me expectantly. 

"Oh, hi. Can I help you?"

"I was hoping I could sit with you."

I hesitated a second and looked at the person stood infront of me. Petite, great posture and a friendly face. There was something familiar about this woman, though I didn't recognise her face. Company would be better than sitting her alone, feeling down. 

"Sure." I smiled, gesturing to the open seat across from me. 

"Thank you." The woman settled into the booth, "I'm Anna."

"Rosa." I returned Anna's warm smile, still trying to place why she looked so familiar to me. "I've got to ask, why do I feel like I know you?"

"I can't say, you are too young to know of my work." The woman in front of me could not have been more than a couple of years older than me. She must have read my thoughts from my expression.

"I mean from my past life."

"You remember you passed life?"

"Yes, I was an actress."

"I watch old films a lot. Maybe that's why you seem so familiar to me. Although, you don't look like any actress I've seen in the movies."

We both knew I was humouring her, but I wasn't being patronising, mostly because I liked the idea and wanted to see where this was going , so Anna seemed to let it go and remained friendly and open. 

"I was Audrey Hepburn." It was like a puzzle piece slid into place. Her energy and mannerisms were identical to that of the iconic woman, who had passed before I was born. I'd watched all of her movies and read up on her life as much as I could. I had even done as report on Audrey Hepburn in high school. I so badly wanted the woman in front of me to be the reincarnation of my favourite actress - I mean the woman had a pet deer. But I was still sceptical.

"Do you remember much of you life as Audrey Hepburn?"

"Yes, but I remember more of this life, but that's to be expected."

"Yeah, that makes sense."

There was a pregnant pause as I tried to get my head around what was going on. I'd always liked the idea of reincarnation and past lives, but had never really put much stock in it. It all sounded so crazy, but even crazier was that I actually believed that this tall, blonde and freckled woman was the new vessel for the soul of the woman that I had admired and strived to emulate  my entire life. Realising no one had spoken for a few minutes I quickly blurted. 

"So tell me about who you are now."

God I wished my socially anxious streak would stop rearing it's stupid head at the most inopportune moments. But Anna smiled warmly. 

"I appreciate you being polite, but I know you want to ask about who I was, not who I am now."

I could barely contain my excitement. 

"OK. I have always wanted to know if you found the age difference between you and Humphrey Bogart as skeevey as I do?"

"It was...not ideal." The class and diplomacy of Audrey Hepburn as alive as ever. 

"Was Bogart as miserable as he seemed?"

"Mr Bogart was not the most cheerful of men. He was not overly fond of me, I must say."

"Yeah, I read about that."

Until the day...

Oliver Dashwood arrived home to find the front door of his farmhouse kicked in, rugs throughout the house out of place and a mess that strongly suggested a struggle. A jolt to his system sent him dashing up the stairs to his daughter's room. The door was wide open - Olivia always kept her door closed. The mess had infected Olivia's normally pristine room. He bed was empty and unmade. 

"Olivia!", Oliver yelled, "Olivia get over her now!" Silence. Olivia would never ignore his calls - she knew better than that. 

Thirty-five minutes later, Oliver Dashwood was sat in his rustic kitchen with three officers of the local police department. Oliver was adamant that his daughter had been taken and the police had to agree that the evidence seemed to back-up the theory. The damage and mess, all her possessions still in her bedroom. Even her pet spaniel, Lady, had been left behind. Olivia never went anywhere without her faithful companion. 

Even without all the "evidence", Oliver Dashwood would never suspect that his obedient daughter had left of her own volition, let alone that it would be her idea. The details were to convince the police - again, Olivia's idea. 

Eight months ago, Oliver had ordered his daughter to never see that Swanson boy ever again. No doubt had, or would, enter his mind that she would not steadfastly follow his orders. He had also made it very, and aggressively, clear to Eric that he was to stay away from his daughter, and being that Olivia belonged to him,  Oliver felt sure that was the end of the issue. 

It wasn't that Mr Dashwood had anything against Eric Swanson personally, it was that he hadn't chosen Eric to be his daughter's suitor - Eric had not even asked Mr Dashwood's permission to court Olivia. Mr Dashwood had always been possessive about anything and everything he felt he owned - including his daughter. It would never occur to him that Olivia was anything other than a meek, mild and blindly-obedient child, and not a smart, strong-willed 24 year old woman that had fallen in love with Eric Samuel Swanson and arranged to run away with him. 

In search to find the daughter of Olivia Edward Dashwood, no-one thought to search for the name Olivia Marie Swanson. Oliver didn't even mention Eric to the police so no-one would look into his whereabouts. It was this blinkered thinking on her father's part that Olivia was counting on. 

The Dashwood family estate was a place where nothing ever happened...

...Until the day that Olivia Dashwood disappeared.  

Reunion

Ravens cawed and cackled on that dewy, hazy morning. A weak Sun hovered uncertainly, as if awaiting permission to rise. The horses were agitated as the man in the bright shirt and panama hat ambled along the dirt track towards the house. This was a place where noting ever happened. Until today...

At the sound of the horses' unrest, Olivia had scrambled from her bed, wrapping herself in a light-weight dressing gown as she went. Something had probably gotten into the stables again - hopefully it had avoided the stamping hooves, she did not relish the thought of scraping smushed mouse out of concrete again. She shuddered at the thought. Slipping her ballet pumps on, she unlocked the door and exited out to the sleepy world on the other side. She wrapped the dressing gown a little tighter as she strode across the porch. Looking out towards the horse stalls, her breath caught in her lungs at the sight of the face that she had dreamt of for the past eight months. 

"Eric." she breathed, as she began to fly through the mist towards the orange clad chest currently strolling up her driveway. 

She was in his arms in seconds, but it still wasn't quick enough. He had been striding to meet her and had lifted her off her feet, holding her as close to him as possible. Her lips were pressed to his as soon as their bodies met. The kiss was deep and desperate. It was the first glass of water after an eight month draught. Eric could feel Olivia's falling onto his face. If he was of a more emotionally open disposition, he'd have been crying too but as it was, he just held her, kissed her and hoped that she knew how much she meant to him. 

"You came back for me." Olivia's forehead was pressed against Eric's, a huge smiling lighting up her face. 

"I promised, didn't I?" Eric spun Olivia round, her joy mirrored on his face, causing Olivia to giggle. 

A raven's caw interrupted the bubble of bliss the couple had created around themselves. 

 "We have to go. Is your bag packed?" Eric furtively looked around, making sure that the horses and birds were the only witnesses to his reunion with his love. 

"Yeah. Let's get everything set up and then we can get me out of here."

Into the Woods

What was it with these woods? Anytime I venture more than five foot into them, I get lost. I've hiked in forests and reserves and mountains across the globe. I'm an expert in tracking, forestry and navigation. I'm trained not to get lost. Yet, every time I hike in these woods, I end up completely bamboozled. No point even trying my phone, there is no cell activity anywhere in here. It mysteriously cuts off the moment you step passed the first tree. 
I'm not the only one to be defeated by these woods, many a person has been lost in it's acres. Everyone comes out thought, strangely eventually. All with stories that end the same: fell asleep deep in the forest and woke up in one of the clearing on the outskirts. I was sceptical - until it happened to me. 

I swear the layout of this damn place changes. I need to find shelter for the night. The sun's going down, and the canopy of leaves above were making it dark on the ground prematurely. 

Oof. Damn tree root. Back on my feet, dusting myself off, and knowing my leg would now have a lovely new bruise, I soldiered on. 

Eventually, I came to a cottage. No sound of bears, so I wouldn't have a repeat of last time and the house was made of bricks, not sweets, so I was safe from the hag of attempt two. 

The door was ajar and a distinct metallic smell came from inside. This did not seem good. But it was shelter, and in these woods, an abandoned cottage, it was a gift horse. 

The scene that I walked into was one of a massacre. Blood was splattered on the walls, floor and furniture. The smell of blood tried to over-power my olfactory sense but was failing against the pungent odour of wet dog. 

Amongst the blood there was a torn nightdress, clearly belonging to someone advanced in age - judging by the style and pattern. It was covered in what looked like fur. My eyes were drawn to the claw marks on the walls, but mostly on the bed frame. Too big for a dog. Wolf. It had to be wolf. 

I stepped forward and stood on something that seemed to be a blanket. Warmth. Picking it up, I could see it was a child's bright red cape.  

Limmericks

There was a young lad from Fife. 

Who wanted an interesting life.

He bought some alpacas, 

While his wife played maracas. 

That strange little lad from Fife. 

There was a young lass from France. 

Who did an exotic type dance. 

She did the splits, 

While biting her lips.

And all the men say her pants.

Me or the dog

"Where's the dog?" Tone forced to be casual but the lips were tight. 
"Gone. I told you, it was me or the dog." Matter-of-fact and, as always, convince he was 100% right. 
"And I said, 'Benji' so why the fuck is he gone and you sociopathic arse is still on my couch?" Rage was boiling. 
"It's my home too. You cant kick me out." Mr Always-Right strikes again. 
"Like hell it is! I work, you don't. I pay the rent and the bills, you don't. My name is on the mortgage agreement. Your's is not. This is MY home and Benji was MY dog. You have no rights here. So. Get. The. Fuck.Out. Of. My. House." Storming footsteps followed by the sounds of a window then a cupboard being opened. He strolled into the bedroom to see his clothes being thrown out of the window. 
Once aware of the presence, she turned to him, fury in her eyes. 
"You have 24hours to return my dog or I go to the police."
"I will do no such thing and I will not be leaving."
"Yes, You will." It was a threat and he knew it was not hollow.  

Taxi Myth

I could smell the cigarette smoke on my clothes, it turned my stomach almost as much as that hundred year old sleaze that had grabbed my ass while I waited for my wine. I raised my hand for the seventh time in three minutes. 

"Taxi!" But, yet again, the black cabs just sped past. 

Growing more miserable by the second, it occurred to me, that I hadn't decided where I wanted to be taken once I'd successfully hailed a cab - if that ever happened. 

"TAXI!" Ignored again. 

Or maybe not, suddenly the car reversed back down the thankfully deserted road, and grinded to a stop halt directly in front of me. Weird, but not enough for me to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

I clambered in to the back of the taxi, having been conditioned by my mother to never sit in the front of  a taxi if you're on your own. Some things just stick, I guess, even when family doesn't. 

"Where to?" The question came with a friendly smile. The driver couldn't have been older than late 30s, tanned and somehow both familiar and completely new. 

"193 New Street. Please." Guess I'm going to Laura's. Good idea? Not even a little. Unhealthy? Definitely. Fun? Hell yes! A night with Laura may not be what I needed, but it was what I wanted. It was my version of putting your hand closer and closer to a flame to see how long you can hold it until you get burned. It was likely going to hurt, but the temptation always was too strong. 

Looking out the window, I watched the world go by...wait! Alfredos? This wasn't the way to Laura's. 

"Hey. You're going the wrong way. This isn't the way to New Street."

"This is the way to we need to go." The driver's voice was still cheerful, no note of threatening. 

Before I had time to panic, the taxi stopped. 

"Here we are." I looked out of the window and see a house that I could have sworn I'd seen before, but couldn't be sure. 

Then I saw him. Simon. My big brother. And in his arms, was a chubby-cheeked baby. 

I hadn't spoken to Simon for a few years. He was dad's son, not mum's. Dad was my link to my older brother. So, when I was disowned for liking tacos more than burritos, we'd lost touch. 

Before I realised what I was doing, I was walking towards the front door. Had I even paid for the taxi?

Could this be my chance of a family that accepted me? 

"Are you just going to keep walking passed my house or are you going to come in?" Andrew looked up at Sarah, apprehension written over every inch of his face. He stood at the end of the garden path, staring through Sarah into the house behind. He should have known he'd have to deal with Sarah before talking to Aimee. As if fighting for his marriage wasn't going to be brutal enough. 

"You've really done it this time." A smirk played in her lips. 

"You're loving this, aren't you?" Andrew grimaced. 

Stupid question, Sarah enjoyed it every time Andrew messed up and Aimee went spare, it proved her right. 

"Of course! My sister's hysterics are so entertaining when they're not aimed at me." Sarah chuckled. 

"How bad is it?" Andrew sighed. 

"Shit storm. Total tornado of terror. Aimee's going ape shit and Mum's playing her usual role of hype-woman and shit-stirrer." Sarah's smirk grew and an amused twinkle shone in her eyes. 

"Your mum's in there? Crap!" Andrew's mission had went from extremely volatile to almost entirely impossible. Aimee's mum knew exactly which buttons to press to keep her daughter riled up. 

"I can explain." He pleaded. 

"She caught you red-handed, dude, not much needing explained."

"I was drunk."

"That feeble excuse will get you nowhere good in there." Sarah gestured into the house behind her. 

"It was my bachelor party." They both knew her was grasping at straws. 

"Oh, you mean the one she didn't want you having? Go in there and say that to her. See how well that works out for you."

Andrew's shoulders slumped. 

"Look, you did what you did. You've got to just own it and own up to it. No excuses, no rationalising. Own up to the fuck up. Apologise and then grovel for your life." Sarah stepped out of the doorway onto the decking. "That's if you still want 'this' for the rest of your life."

Andrew walked up the path, onto the decking. 

"Wow, you really are a glutton for punishment as well as for...well, you know." Sarah teased. 

Andrew just shook his head. As he reached the doorway, he paused and looked Sarah in the eye. 

"It was just a piece of cake."

"IT WAS THE TOP TIER OF OUR WEDDING CAKE!!!" Aimee's shriek reverberated through the house. "You ATE the top tier of our wedding cake."

Andrew winced and walked into the house, while Sarah sat back on the porch swing and listened ti her sister called her fiance every name in the book.  

Clean Up

It was a rite of passage in my family: the day you were shown the jars. One that not everyone experienced. You had to be deemed ready and able to resist the temptations that came with this most treasured knowledge. I'd never resisted anything: that piece of cake; the boy I had a crush on; pushing any button I pleased. How was I considered able to resist the temptations that haunted my family. I would have questioned it, but I couldn't resist getting to see my family's twisted version of inheritance. 

I stood there, at the door to the basement surrounded by those who came before me. My mother, Dad wasn't permitted (this wasn't his family's thing, he understood) and her mother stood one either side side of me. Aunties formed the second wave. Women always outlived men in our family. No one knew why, it was just how things were. 

I winced as my grandmother drew the knife across my palm. She nodded and I placed my hand against the door. Blood Magic - the reason Dad wasn't involved. Mortimar blood did not flow through his veins. The door swung open and I descended the stairs. The others followed two paced behind. As my foot hit the floor of the basement, the lights illuminated the hallowed space. That's when they came in to view. The Jars. Shelves and cases and sideboards chock-a-block with jars. Generations upon generations had added to this collection. And now, I had access. One thing confused me, the contents of the jars looked disgusting. Not in the least bit tempting. 

"You have heard of Pandora's box, Mina?" my mother's voice echoed through the room. 

"Yes." I said solemnly, but thinking 'Where is this going?' 

"And you know who she was?" Listening to my mother's words, I felt like I was being spoken to by generations of my ancestors. 

"The original. The first Mortimar matriarch." I said, an entire life-time of hearing the story of Mortimer family legend flowing through my mind. 

"The tale is true. Pandora let everything from the box out into the world. And this..." My mother looked out onto the jars. "is the clean up."

Isserley and the Hitchhiker

Isserley almost turned him into road kill before she spotted him. He leapt out of the way just in time, landing heavily in the dirt next to the road. She watched as he pushed himself back up. His biceps flexed with the effort, they were almost the size of her head. Too quickly, he was back to his full height. Isserley took her time appraising the adonis standing in her head lights: strong, broad shoulders, defined arm muscles and his shirt was doing very little to hide impressive abdominals. He. Was. Perfect. 

That's when her eyes caught his gaze. Piercing and time-stopping. Without breaking eye contact, Isserley leaned over and opened the passenger door. His intense stare held her's as he walked around and got into the car. 

It was going to be such a shame to kill him. 

"So where is it you need to go?" Isserley enquired as she pulled out from the side of the road. 
"Callonblye. It's outside of -"
"Geller Woods. Yeah, I know. I've lived in this area a long time."


The hitchhiker hadn't taken his eyes off Isserley since he'd gotten into the car. Like a predator staring down his prey. It would have unnerved her, if it hadn't been for the knowledge that she was the hunter bringing home her spoils. 
"I'll drive you all the way to Callonblye, but I'll have to drop by my house on the way. Does that work for you?"
"Yeah, that's cool." The stranger finally took his eyes off Isserley and settled into the passenger seat. 

The short drive to Isserley's property was silent and filled with an atmosphere of sexual tension that could have been cut with a knife. 

They pulled up to a large farmhouse on the outskirts of Geller Woods. Secluded and miles away from the nearest neighbours, this late at night, it was deadly silent and almost eery. Isserley cut the engine and climbed out of the car. Before she closed the door, she bent down and looked across to the man in the passenger seat. 
"Would you mind helping me get the feed into the barn? The bags are pretty heavy and help would mean only one trip."
In response, the man exited the car. They walked around the car and met at the back of the truck. Isserley lowered the truck door grabbed the nearest bag of feed. The stranger grabbed the other two. With Isserley leading the way, they headed to the barn. Isserley used her free hand to open the door and hold it open for her new companion. The man walked into the barn without hesitation, he could see vague outlines of objects in the moonlight. That's when Isserley closed the door and everything went black. 

When Chris awoke, he was almost blinded by a light pointed directly above his head. His head was throbbing, why did his head hurt.  He went to rub it, but couldn't as his hands were bound. As his eyes began to adjust to the light, he saw that he was surrounded by six women. Isserley. Wait, they were all Isserley. Six identical women, all in the the image of the woman who had picked him up on the side of the road. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew he had to get out of there. 

Chris tried to struggle, but he was still very groggy and whatever he had been drugged by was still affecting his limbs - all four of which were tightly bound. 

"The sacrifice awakens." One of the clones' monotone voice rang out. Then, in complete sync, they all started chanting, in what sounded like Latin. 

That's when the pain hit. It was like being electrocuted and split apart at the same time. His mouth gaped to scream in agony, but his vocal cords were completed non-functional. Chris kept writhing in pain while the women kept chanting. Turning his head to the side, he saw in horror that the muscles in his arm were half the size that they had been. Terror and heart-break slammed him again and again, as the body that he has spent hours and hours building and toning got smaller and smaller by the second. He was watching himself wither away. He could feel all the strength - both physical and mental - being drained from his body. 

It was only thirty minutes - though it seemed unending to Chris - before all there was left of the handsome hitchhiker was a pile of skin and bones. 

Stood next to the altar, naked and newly appeared, was a seventh woman, identical to the others. 

Their coven was complete.