Chapter 1

Slender trails of wispy cloud brushed across the incandescent features of the moon. The silvery orb hung low this night, glaring at the world with a knowing smile that danced glowing beams upon a sea of dark trees. Only the distant amber glow of the town contrasted this refulgence, the artificial halo pandering to the milling doleful occupants of a rustic settlement.

The ghostly image of a young woman hovered before her, the apparition adorned with chestnut hair, the shoulder length tresses contained within a loose pony tail, the strands unkempt and some of them tainted with flecks of rainbow shades from her work. Her slender face and lithe body were devoid of any cosmetics and hunched from tiredness. The long toil of her latest creative burst had deprived her of sleep for a full three days, with only coffee and enthusiasm pushing her onwards towards completion.

Ashley took another sip from her mug and stared beyond her reflection in the second-floor window, gazing across the forest, her propitious locale atop a hilltop providing a truly stunning view.

The converted church had been in a terrible state when she found it quite by accident, whilst rambling through the woodlands in search of inspiration. Ridiculously expensive for its decrepit condition, she had been drawn to it somehow, as though the house had been patiently waiting only for her, presenting a dilapidated visage to dissuade all but the one person it had chosen. Now that the two of them had met, she could not bear to be parted from the wizened wreck.

Brooking no reason to lose this enthralling vision to another, the purchase and subsequent renovation drained her savings - all the money she had gained through her parents will and the cumulative profits from the sale of her paintings. But the very aura of the building filled her with such life, and a sense of security that she was sure to produce sterling works when drinking in this powerful ambience. Such production would swiftly replenish her monies before struggles to meet the mortgage threatened her with the loss of this place.

Shedding her dressing gown, Ashley set aside the steaming mug and regarded her work as though seeing it for the first time, marvelling at what she had created, so distanced did she feel from the entire process of its birth.

The canvas had been transformed from a mere blank sheet with daubs of suggestive paint upon it, and was somehow several steps beyond a mere painting, as though it had somehow been bestowed an eldritch life of its own. It was the best to date, and she was amazed at how easily it had come to her. Everything she unleashed here was dark and foreboding, each a small window into a world that sucked in the viewer and mesmerized them with its flowing shades and colours. The effect tended to be a little unsettling, and it made her dizzy to stare deeply into it, but this was a trait she was ecstatic at having created. Whatever spectral forces were at work in this grim church, she owed great and hearty thanks to for them their aid and influence.

Leaving the curtains open so she might bask in the glorious moonlight, Ashley slipped into bed and tugged the covers over her slim form. Luxuriating in the smooth comfort and softness, she readied herself for another night of strange, esoteric dreams. Although these nightly episodes left her perplexed come morning, she remained equable to their regular visitations, for the alien influences left her all the more eager to set down upon her paintings all of what she had seen.

Slipping through the layered folds of sleep, Ashley drifted deep into slumber, the exhaustion of her long toil speeding the descent.

The brittle crash of glass being broken carried through the entire interior, bringing her abruptly and fully awake. An impenetrable silence held dominion as she strained her hearing for any further sounds, praying with a racing pulse and sudden zeal that it be the result of a fallen tree, or a bird that had failed to notice a glassen pane during a frantic flight.

The deep crunch of wood being punished reverberated, causing Ashley to leap from her bed and bolt for the phone, her body tingling with fright. Her stomach seemed to lurch with nausea, rolling over on itself. A volley of steady impacts slammed into her door until, with a booming crash, the portal flew back and jarred against its hinges with a ringing shudder.

Snatching up the receiver she stabbed nine thrice and waited, jiggling her toes, wringing the cord in tensed anxiety, tiny gems of icy sweat rising upon her brow. The delay was an eternity of impatience, and then extended far beyond mere tardiness on behalf of the network. Bouncing her digits upon the device, she pressed her ear tightly to the only source of salvation. No sound emerged; the phone was dead and probably had been since she picked it up, because in her haste she had not bothered to listen for a tone.

A chorus of heavy footsteps began to stomp up the stairs without any degree of concern for the noise they made. Did this blatant attitude stem from having cut the lines? She was clearly in residence, and burglars would be expected to remain quiet in their nefarious business, unless they had other things they wished to take before they left - like her body, and quite possibly her life. This notion made the blood drain from her face and caused her belly to sink in despair. The instinctive fright of such deeds was deeply ingrained and after years of subconscious brooding and paranoia, the swollen beast was finally let loose.

Visualising a plethora of heinous scenarios, all conjured from the darkest depths of her imagination, she dropped the receiver and backed up, trying to dredge a sanctuary or escape route from her memory. The windows were all too high for her to jump from. The option of heading into the bell tower would leave her more trapped than before. Any call for help would simply echo vainly across this unpopulated area, and her enemies were ascending the only path to the ground floor.

The retreating course brought her to the wall, where she cast her eyes frantically about, seeking somewhere to hide, a place that was not guaranteed to deliver her into their clutches such as under the bed or in the wardrobe might do.

Spying the dressing table, she dived down and pulled out the low chair. Draping her dressing gown over the back, she moulded herself into the small space between the drawers and dragged the chair back, folding her legs underneath so it appeared tucked in and thus unable to provide sanctuary.

The bedroom door burst open and the light switched on. Through the tiniest chink in her defenses she caught a glimpse of the unseen stranger. The sight had her clamping a hand over her lips to ensure her own silence, such was the fearsome image he presented. Clad totally in a layer of polished rubber, a studded leather harness was set across the jet mirrors of his frame. A hood and mask rendered him an anonymous entity, devoid of features as his eyes glistened like black wells within the acute eye slits. The mask was a hideous copper depiction encrusted with gems and eldritch glyphs. Wrought in the stylised image of a snarling wolf, the animal visage panned across the scene before he began to open the wardrobes and cast up the mattress, promptly conducting the superficial scan before marching out again, satisfied that his quarry was not present.

Having seen the nature of the intruder, Ashley’s terror swelled immeasurably, gnawing at her heart with an icy fervour. Her only thoughts were of escape, for he would surely instigate a more meticulous hunt once the cursory glance failed. Assured that the wolf was gone, she crept from her hideout and slipped to the windows, trying to recall if any of the floorboards between the two locations was prone to squeaking.

At the glassen pane she opened the lock and drew it inward, already looking for a drainpipe or ledge she might exploit to aid her descent. The wash of chill night air made her quiver, for she had not troubled herself with dressing in anything save her underwear when the breaching of her home had been detected. Goosebumps prickled her skin, her nipples rising at the cold tickle of the breeze even through the meagre protection of her bra. Likewise the stretched material of her panties was an equally feeble defence from the weather and she folded her arms around herself as she shuddered and thought quickly on how to proceed.

Unwilling to rush through the wilderness in bra and panties, Ashley decided to risk returning for her gown. Creeping back, she closed her fingers about the soft material and wheeled, almost holding her breath lest the most subtle hiss alert her foe.

The open doorway was filled by the nightmare image of the wolf, a trick of the light giving his growling snout the suggestion of wicked glee. Ashley screamed and dashed for the window, willing to hurl herself out if it would mean evading the harbinger of terror looming behind her.

Acting with fluid celerity, the already tensed trespasser was ready for such a movement. Plummeting forward into a reckless dive, his outstretched hand snagged her trailing ankle, locking tightly to it as he struck the floor with a harsh thump. The anchor affixed to her leg was beyond her means to shift and with a sudden wrenching jerk she was halted in mid sprint and felled with an awkward thud, the impact driving all the air from her lungs and filling her right side with a riot of contused pains.

The attacker began to claw his way up the side of her body, hauling at her with a vice-like grip. Ashley shrieked afresh and struggled, pounding her fists against him, kicking into him with all her distressed might as the man kept himself secure throughout the blizzard of blows, enduring her reprisals without response. All she could see was the mocking fanged smile of the wolf, amused at her antics, cruelly finding pleasure in the desperate throes of its helpless prey.

‘God no! Please, stop!’ she howled.

Grabbing her arms, the brawny limbs controlled hers as though they were made of paper and folded them beneath her back before applying handcuffs, the silver jaws flying from a holster and clicking shut upon her joints.

‘Nooo! Someone, help! Help me!’ she screamed, her freedom being stolen, her body controlled by her attacker.

Flipping her onto her back, he sat astride her legs, pinning them down as the snouted visage leered and slapped a hand to her breast, making Ashley scream with added volume at this graphic declaration of intentions. The grope served its purpose of increasing her already acute rictus, the tactic allowing a solid ball to be stuffed in without delay or obstruction.

Wailing into the gag while it was buckled about her head, her teeth biting into it, Ashley was rolled over to accept a long pole along her length. The copious trammels of the rod were riveted in place and reached out to encircle her frame, holding her to the rigid post as though she were a spitted pig, ready for roasting.

Fighting against him, she could do nothing as the thick leather ribbons tightened and clutched her back, slowly stealing away her movement while she shrieked into her gag, screaming for help, filled with mortal jeopardy at the sight of an attacker who justified all her fears.

The last restraints were set in place, plundering every particle of her motion, quelling her resistance and only leaving her able to wring her fingers and claw vainly at the uncompromising bonds.

The wolf flipped her back and leaned over his prize specimen, glaring into her petrified visage, soaking up the dismay and utter terror, feeding on it like some empathic vampire. A gloved hand touched the cotton of her underwear, and between finger and thumb he caressed her loins. Squealing onto the gag, tears flowed down her cheeks, her heart throwing itself recklessly against her ribs as though it sought to escape and flee without her. Her pulse stamped in her chest, her muscles burned from their berserk fight to get free.

The creak of latex sounded as he sunk his fist into the underwear, taking firm reign. Her breathing quickened and suddenly it was painfully torn from her. The same act was perpetrated again as he attacked her bra and with the rip of delicate fabrics the cloth was shredded. Lifting up the rags, examining them, he looked over the trophies before sniffing at them in a true canine manner. Stashing the prizes in his belt, he flipped her over again, letting her drop onto her front, squashing her breasts beneath her own weight, her face pressed to the timbers of the floorboards. Lines of dribble moved over the gag, riding her sobs and despair as she wept, her mind in shock.

The stinging bite of a syringe took her in the rump, depositing an anonymous cargo before departing. Laying still, with the puncture wound still pounding, all she could do was watch while the wolf took the extended head of the pole and hoisted it up to bear her out of her home.

A rolling fog began to well throughout her mind, settling upon her thoughts as her eyelids fluttered and became impossibly heavy, a foul acrid tang creeping into the corners of her mouth and the back of her throat, sneaking in like a rancid thief.

Fighting to stay awake, she found it hopeless, and her mind sank down to join her slumbering body, her last sights being that of her languid flesh being taken up and ferried to the shattered door.