The Succubus Spectre
Matthew Ryan Fischer
The body was already weakening. She tried hard to pace herself,
but it was an impossible task. She had mostly drained the warrior of her life,
and if the others hadn’t attacked, she would have had to find someone else to
possess. This warrior was running out as well. The night was longer than most
but still if a body wouldn’t last more than a half a day, she would be in perpetual
need and trouble. Her husband could have found a solution. But her husband was
dead. He had worked and waited and taken ten years to find a way to bring her
back. She didn’t have that luxury.
The army of the dead was to be the beginning. Now that would have
to wait. She needed him back. Anything else could wait and recreated later. The
dead would distract the others, she could focus on the task at hand.
She made her way towards the church, when a working woman emerged
from the woods. A body! Fresh and healthy. Young. Perhaps it could survive
longer than others.
She reached out, attempted to touch the mind of the woman. The
woman screamed, her mind afire with pain and anguish. The woman fought harder
than expected.
Her body slumped. The body was dying. She needed to take control
of the working woman. There was no time to waste.
Others began to approach. Time was running out. She needed the
body. She fought hard, but the working woman fought back.
Both women collapsed to the ground.
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