I don’t think I’m finished with Part III of Sparkly Horn Horror… In fact considering where I leave things this time I know I need to do more with this chapter so… sorry all for that…
Some answers, still a lot of questions, and for one particular soul of the Succubi a choice made that probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do…
Sparkly Horn Horror
The sound of snapping fingers was accompanied by a slightly miffed tone of voice: “Doc? Uh … could you please tell me where Adam is? Please?”
The question would have been innocent, except that the outfit Abby was wearing consisted of an oversized sweater and a pair of clear plastic stripper heels. Clearly, she was asking not out of innocence, but out of her own needs. And those needs had endangered her needlessly.
Florence pinched her nose: “Abby, what the hell are you still doing here? I know you were released this morning. I signed the forms. Come to think of it, I also told you to get your tail out of here and to go home.”
Abby looked at the floor and scraped the toe of one of her heels on the floor: “Umm … yeah, you did Doc. But I … well … kind of …”
“Never mind, it’s too late now anyway.”
Abby looked up in surprise at the tone of voice in those words: “What do you mean by that, Doc?”
It took about ten minutes to get Abby up to speed on what was going on, and, at the end, she stood there with an unreadable expression before asking in a calm voice: “So what you are saying is that a friend of yours is sealed up in a room with Adam and she’s fucking him.”
“That’s putting things in a really bad way, Abby. Neither of them are exactly themselves at the moment. You probably wouldn’t even recognize Adam. I can barely recognize Deb, and that’s only because they are the only two in that room.”
“But … she’s fucking him.”
“Not because she wants to. Neither of them wants to.”
“How are you sure? They might want to. She might have done all of this to get Adam from …”
Florence threw up her hands in disgust: “Fine! Yes! Deb is getting the shit fucked out of her by Adam! She’s planned this all along to get into his pants! Are you happy? Is that all that matters to you?”
Abby had the oddest look in her eyes, one that caught Florence and made her worry: “Yes, it does. I don’t care who your friend is, she isn’t good enough for Adam. Actually, neither are you, Doc.”
“What do you mean by that, Abby?”
“I know you and Adam were fucking at the nurse’s station. You think I didn’t hear you? You think that I couldn’t tell? You can’t hide that from me, Doc. You …”
Abby was stopped in mid-rant by Florence slapping her, hard, and then it was Florence’s turn: “You think I don’t know you have a doctor fetish? You think that I don’t know you want into Adam’s pants in the worst way? I’ve walked past your room and heard you moaning out his name in the middle of the night! You aren’t fooling anyone!”
Before things got much further, John coughed, then interrupted, waving his glasses at the pair: “If you are both done acting like children, perhaps you might think about the fact that you, Florence, have very little time left, and you, Abby, are likely going to be the only one in here when she is no longer capable of thinking about doing anything about this mess you are both in. So, why don’t the two of you get past who’s—as you so eloquently put it—‘fucking’ whom, and get to the question of who’s trying to ‘fuck’ the Realm and how to stop it?”
Abby was the first to speak after the shock of John’s words got through to them: “You just don’t understand. You can’t understand because you’re a … a thing. You have no idea what it feels like.”
Florence was going to say something more, but she bit back the words when she saw the look in John’s eyes and found herself feeling … bad … for him. Shaking her head, she cleared her thoughts and chalked up her emotions over John to being part of this thing that she was starting to suffer from.
It was that. It couldn’t be that she actually felt something for him. He didn’t exist, save in a computer. It was probably better that way.
“Abby. Have you seen anyone else here?”
Turning away with a shake of her head, Abby replied with a sigh: “No, I was looking for Adam. I thought I heard his voice here in your office. Thought that … that he was here … with you.”
“I … stupidly had John snow me what they were doing. It wasn’t a good idea.”
“Because I started to slip away … felt like I had to go to them and … join in … couldn’t think of anything else.”
Abby twined a finger in her green hair: “Kind of explains why you’re so horny, Doc … Sorry. I know that’s not you. You’re a little too straight-laced to be that horny … reputation or not.”
Florence smiled and wagged a finger: “Truth. Have you ever been with Adam?”
The blush was something to see. It went right up her tail and horns: “I … No, we haven’t. He probably doesn’t even know I exist. I mean, he’s seen me, said “hi” and stuff … just been too scared of asking him to … you know …”
“Fuck your brains out?”
Abby bit her lip and nodded: “Gawd, Doc he’s … perfect. Can’t explain it. I just … can’t stop thinking about him.”
Florence walked up to Abby: “How about we try to get him and Deb back? There isn’t an answer yet, but we’ll find one somehow. We have to.”
“Yeah. As much as it sounds like fun, better that we do. So how does that happen?”
“Miriam and Tera are trying to find a solution.”
“Well, that’s something.”
“Yeah. You know, I’ve never asked, what’s your “thing,” anyway?”
Abby looked confused: “Thing?”
“Medicine is mine. What’s your’s?”
“You’ll laugh. I’m a pink tail. We’re supposed to be all sex and no brains.”
“You never struck me as no brains. All sex, sure, but you never acted like a total bimbo. Try me.”
The blush came back: “I … have a green thumb.”
“Goes with your hair?”
Abby pouted: “That was kind of a mistake with a bottle of magic fertilizer. I was a redhead, once.”
“Green looks better on you.”
“Wish Adam would say that.”
Florence didn’t know how to answer, and, in the next moment, Abby was turning and walking out the door.
“Abby? Where are you going?”
“I’m going to see Adam. If I’m going to lose him, lose me, then I’m going to be the one that makes it happen. Sorry Doc, you’re not my type. See ya’.”
As Abby vanished from view, Florence called out for her to stop, to turn around … Abby didn’t reply, and, as she ran after her, she had but one thought: “The stupid things we do for love.”
Elsewhere, Tera and Miriam had been waiting for some time—how long Miram wasn’t quite clear on: “Um … Tera? How long do we wait?”
“As long as it wants us to. It’s kind of a pain in the tail at times.”
Miram was going to reply, but was stopped when she noticed something odd that had suddenly appeared in mid-air just in front of her. It was something she never expected when Tera brought her here. It was what appeared to be an old writing quill, green in colour, glowing with a purplish light. When Tera didn’t speak, Miram asked: “What is that?”
“That is something I have always thought of as the Storyteller of the Realm. To be honest, I don’t even know if it has a name. It’s never told me.”
The quill started to move swiftly, the glow moving from the tip, words appearing as it did so…
Some secrets are never told. Some are. Welcome both: the one that is and the one to be.
Miriam looked at Tera: “What does …”
Tera put her hand over Miriam’s lips to stop her in mid-sentence. Then Tera’s tail held up a sign to her: Be careful what you say. We have little time here and when that glow ends our time is up.
Miriam nodded in understanding as Tera asked: “An old curse has returned to the Realm … the one that almost ended us. We need to know how to stop it.”
The quill replied: The story continues. The loss returns. Remember stories you have been told.
“They are too vague, too unclear. We have little time left. I ask … plead. Will you give the answer?”
Remember your stories. The answer is there to be found.
Miriam frowned: “This is so confusing. I thought it was going to help us!”
The answer you seek is the one you already know, brightest of the yellow. Find the answer in yourselves.
Tera looked at Miram, then at the quill, with some concern in her eyes. The glow had faded, just slightly, but it had.
Time was running out, and it seemed that the storyteller had more riddles than answers. They just needed to figure out the answers to the riddles. Or ask the right questions …