The Unchaste

The Old Slip up.

The blue-bottles were too shrill tonight, the owls too reckless, the moon too apparent and the wind way too indiscreet as they breezed the swamp.

The only thing that was subtle in this thick, dense loud night was her footstep as the young woman in black veil walked down the haunted moors in the middle of nowhere. She glided transparently in the darkness of meager mooned night in her black gown, her soft, cat-like movement catching the foxes off guard as they hid in the bushes.

But, it was not the fox-chase that this lady had ventured out to accomplish.

It was a chase far more heinous. Far more sinister.

Moon shone in the sky but its dull light did nothing to disperse the gloom that tainted the marshes below. The only other thing that did shine though was the silver blade partially tucked in her sleeve, on occasional reflection of the hazy stars.

Down the valley, the barb wire fence of the graveyard was twisted and bent out of shape, enclosing the several tombstones of the death sleepers, the memorials wet and cold in the mist of late autumn.

The cemetery guard was sitting his creaky little wooden cabin, slumbering in the tiny warmth of the oil lamp when he heard the soft knocking at his door.

He looked out of the window to check who it was while handling his cane in the other hand, just in case need be.

It was way too dark and the person outside had no lamp to reveal any distinction.

He grunted in annoyance.

“Who?”

There was a shift of shadow outside.

“Uh…the usual.” A soft, lush feminine voice answered.

“Bodies?” He hissed.

“Yes.”

“A woman? He sending woman?” He pondered in puzzlement. “Not that it’s my business.”

"It's not."

He opened the door and leaned on the frame eyeing the slender, young woman in black gown. Her face was shielded behind a raven lace veil and whole of her body was covered with dark cloak. He could only make out her dark, scarlet lips in the paltry light.  If he had doubts so far, the expensive clothing of her cleared all doubts now.

He had sent her.

“But there ain’t no new body tonight.” He shrugged, placing his truncheon at the desk behind. “Hardly any this week. I would have sent words had there been a desirable one. Twas’ on Sunday the last one came. An old hag, half decayed already when she was alive, no use for him.”

“None indeed.” The lady nodded. “He wants it juvenile, doesn’t he?”

“You know it better.” The sentry pulled out a cheap tobacco roll from his pocket and lit it from the lamp behind. “But the younger it is, the more he pays. And if ‘tis a female….aye, my cigarette stock is runnin’ out.”

A cloud of weedy smoke unfurled in the dark night as the cabin man smoked and accessed the woman infront.

She looked way too out of the place and the way she was standing infront of him right now, he could only wonder what she was waiting for.

“Well…” He let out a perfect smoke ring in the midnight gloom. “…You see, I cannot help ye tonight. Sorry. Tell him I will try my quickest.”

“Please do.” The woman whispered sweetly, almost satisfying him with the way she move curled her crimson lips. “But you know, that’s not the only one reason why he sent me_ a woman_ down here_ to a man, tonight.”