“The Skeleton Man”
\nby Chloe Robbins<\/p>\n
The split-faced woman can\u2019t believe her luck at finding a skeleton sitting so pretty in the light of a woodland campfire. Luck, or perhaps fate. <\/em>Her name is Crystal and she isn\u2019t from around here. She\u2019s never heard of The Skeleton Man, though he\u2019s famous. It\u2019s said to be the most ghoulishly delicious sight, watching him invite his own bones outside himself for a dance. No blood or crassness, just a skeleton waltzing with its flesh. Lonely together.<\/p>\n But Crystal doesn\u2019t know any of this. All she knows is that he\u2019s left his bones sitting out for the night, his skin folded like laundry before the fire. His skull ripe as a berry for the picking. For the stealing.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n She never could keep her hands to herself. It\u2019s what got her into this mess. She should\u2019ve known better, stealing a rose from a witch\u2019s garden. And now she\u2019s paying the price: a human skull for the return of her beauty.<\/p>\n She\u2019s grateful, at least, for the curse\u2019s lack of gore. The witch had halved her face cleanly, like a living Dutch door, rendering Crystal unable to see certain things and unable to ignore so many others.<\/p>\n But this skull, she\u2019s sure, no one could ignore\u2014shining<\/em>, as if it were a comet that\u2019d crested down to land neat as a kiss before her. What she doesn\u2019t see: his eyes planted in his folded skin, watching her.<\/p>\n The moment her fingertips brush the intimate bone, his skeleton whirls into motion, throwing the warmed skin about himself. Like the hood of a cloak, he draws up his grinning face.<\/p>\n Crystal stands with her arms outstretched, frozen by the sight of him. The most exquisite creature she\u2019s ever beheld.<\/p>\n A dark mess of hair frames eyes the color of river rocks. His body is somewhat askew<\/em>, as if his bones hadn\u2019t settled in quite right, but there\u2019s something alluring about this unevenness. Like the way a tree trunk is never completely cylindrical. Crystal can\u2019t see his intentions, but by the swinging of her split face, she sees the ache in him. The sudden desire. For her?<\/p>\n \u201cYou would steal a man\u2019s skull?\u201d he asks.<\/p>\n Dazed, she hears herself say, \u201cI steal lots of things.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLike my attention,\u201d he says, stepping closer. \u201cAnd I was wondering where my breath had gone.\u201d<\/p>\n No one\u2019s ever felt breathless over me.<\/em> And no one ever would. Not when her broken face moved in every tonguing breeze like a pair of loose teeth. Hideous. <\/em><\/p>\n But the thrall<\/em> of this man\u2014 It must be another spell, another way for the witch to torment her. Still, she says, \u201cI\u2019m Crystal.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIvy,\u201d he replies.<\/p>\n Ivy.<\/em> What would it feel like to be wrapped in him? Ivy climbing all over her, warm and wild and everywhere.<\/p>\n He reaches for her slowly, silently asking her permission, before touching her cheek. She can\u2019t catch her breath. The tender way his fingers trace the horizontal seam across her face, dipping them so gently inside her, exploring her without fear or disgust\u2026<\/p>\n \u201cCrystal<\/em>.\u201d He sounds relieved, as if he\u2019d been searching for her.<\/p>\n The forest draws in closer. Bats ghost about the firelight, snatching hypnotized moths. The piney scents, the green shadows, the peppery tingle of smoke. Crystal can\u2019t break his gaze. She doesn\u2019t want to.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy do you want my skull?\u201d His fingers comb through her long hair as his lips brush her temple. It\u2019s all she can do not to press her hips against him.<\/p>\n He\u2019s ensnaring me.<\/em> Another bat, another unsuspecting moth. Yet she doesn\u2019t pull away. \u201cI stole a rose from a witch,\u201d she admits dreamily, outside herself. Like Ivy\u2019s magic bones, she feels outside of everything now. \u201cShe cursed me for it. But if I give her a skull, she\u2019ll fix me. My face.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour face? You mean you would seal up these soft petals forever?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPetals?\u201d She\u2019d never thought of it that way.<\/p>\n \u201cLovelier than any rose,\u201d he murmurs, holding her closer. \u201cCrystal, may I keep touching you?\u201d<\/p>\n The idea alone makes her wet, even if it\u2019s madness. Even if she doesn\u2019t know him. He feels right.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cOnly if you let me touch you, too.\u201d<\/p>\n Smiling, gripping her waist, he slides his tongue along her seam, swallowing her groan as he takes her mouth, nibbling her lips and edges. He guides her to the ground, massaging her swollen breasts as he slowly grinds his hardness against her. \u201cLook at you, the beautiful thief come to steal me away.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo one\u2019s come yet,\u201d she says, and begins pulling off his clothes as he laughs.<\/p>\n Naked, she stretches out atop him, her face blooming open as she gazes down on him. And all at once she sees it, feels it like the fire\u2019s heat: Ivy is hers<\/em>. He\u2019s always been hers.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Crystal,\u201d he whispers, as if hearing her thoughts, \u201cI knew you in an instant.\u201d His hand trembles as he pumps two fingers inside her, thumbing her clit. He doesn\u2019t stop even after she\u2019s drenched him, whimpering and rocking against his palm for more.<\/p>\n But she can\u2019t wait any longer. Moaning his name, she grasps his cock and guides him in.<\/p>\n \u201cCrystal!\u201d he gasps, bucking mindlessly.<\/p>\n This man. As if she\u2019d ever share any piece of him with anyone, skull or otherwise.<\/p>\n Riding him, feeling him throb inside her, his bones seeming to vibrate, she\u2019s helpless not to scream when he grips her ass and fingers her clit for more. \u201cIvy!<\/em> I\u2019m coming!<\/em>\u201d Head lolling, she sees his eyes roll back as his body shudders and bows beneath her.<\/p>\n Drifting slowly back to earth, she tries cuddling into him, but he stops her.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a cold night,\u201d he says, standing, and steps out of his skin once more. The fire licks shadows over his skeleton as he wraps her tightly, first in his skin, and then in his bones. \u201cAnd I want my rose to keep warm.\u201d<\/p>\n Sighing into his embrace, she wonders, Perhaps fate is just another word for witch<\/em>.<\/p>\n –<\/p>\n Chloe Robbins lives in Baltimore across\u00a0the<\/span>\u00a0street from a public park filled with bats, ravens, and lovers. Her fiction appears in different places, sometimes also in\u00a0the<\/span>\u00a0park. Her most recent erotic short story, “The<\/span>\u00a0Lady of\u00a0the<\/span>\u00a0House,” is forthcoming in Circlet Press’s\u00a0Dressed in Black<\/i>\u00a0anthology. For more information, visit\u00a0gothicarobbins.com<\/a>\u00a0and follow her\u00a0@gothicrobbins<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" “The Skeleton Man” by Chloe Robbins The split-faced woman can\u2019t believe her luck at finding a skeleton sitting so pretty in the light of a woodland campfire. Luck, or perhaps fate. Her name is Crystal and she isn\u2019t from around here. She\u2019s never heard of The Skeleton Man, though he\u2019s famous. It\u2019s said to be … Continue reading Halloween Microfiction: The Skeleton Man by Chloe Robbins<\/span>