The Unspoken Deception [Closed]

"Don't you get it? I'm only trying to protect you! You think you know what it's like out there?"

The screaming match between Mother and nineteen year old Madeline went on for a good thirty minutes. And this was on a good day. The worst and the longest the two went at it was a little over an hour. Mother often freaked out at the tiniest of things that her daughter did that was seen as rebellious.

Wanting to go out for a walk in the woods alone during daylight? Nope, the day monsters were out to play. What about during the night? No, that's when the night monsters come out to kill her. One foot outside and the wolves will snatch her up. How about a chance to go to the village several miles away? She would not be accepted, Mother would say.

Whenever Mother left their cottage deep in the woods for the day, she made sure to lock all the doors and windows. She made doubly sure that Madeline's door was locked from the outside, preventing her escape.

Tonight's argument was Madeline simply questioning why she was not allowed to explore. She was to turn her twentieth year by next week's end. But such questions were often not received well as Mother went on her many tirades on her giving up her life to protect Madeline from the evils of the world.

"If dad were still alive, what would he think about what you're doing?" Madeline blurted out. Her father died when she was three years old but she was never told how or why that came about.

In one swift motion, Mother slapped Madeline's face with an open palm, leaving a stinging red mark. For Mother, there will be no more discussion as she dragged her daughter to her room, threw her inside and locked the door. She ignored the incessant pounding that followed after, begging to be let out.

-+-

Madeline had enough. After all these years, she finally decided to break free and go to the one person she trusted: her grandmother. She never saw Grandmother often, for Mother was hell bent in keeping the "harlot" and her influence away from her only daughter. In her father's ragged sack, she packed several clothes.

Late in to the night when she was certain Mother was asleep, Madeline placed on a red cloak over her head. She adjusted her white dress, making sure it fit properly. With a rock, she bashed it against the window until the glass gave way. Faster did Madeline's heart beat, fearing that Mother will wake up and catch her attempting to escape. No, there is no time to think of it now.

At last, the hole was big enough for Madeline to slip through. With the sack, she escaped the cottage and ran as far as she could from the horrid place. The wind was quite strong tonight that she held on to her cloak to keep it from flying off.

She tried to remember where Grandmother's house was. Her loving relative used to sing the lullaby to her to get her to sleep.

Follow the north, in to the woods deep.
Turn right when you hear the noise of the river
Surely will put you to sleep.
Cross the bridge, avoid the middle step
Go around the wooded hills, then turn left.
Climb the rock steps
Do not worry child, no creature has crept.
Then around the river bend
Grandmother's cabin home, your travel will end.

Moran knew someone was coming long before there was any threat of his home being intruded upon: the night animals, from the crickets to the owls to the bats, always betrayed the approach of an unwelcome guest he -- or in this case she was still far enough away for Moran to divert them.

But soon, he began to realize that this intruder was following a path that would come far deeper into his woods than anyone had in quite a while. There was only one way to get to his cabin with such relative ease and speed, and that was to already have been here before ... or to know someone who had ... someone who could have given you directions.

He snatched up his ax and noise makers, called his dog to his side, and headed into the forest. The stories of the night creatures did not worry Moran, of course: he was responsible for most of them, both the creatures and the stories about them.

He headed south, on the same trail that the intruder was traveling upon northward. He looked out upon the river where the bend cut into the side of the mountain, carving a vertical cliff; then down The Steps, which legend had said Mother Nature had carved to allow the souls of the Good Ones to more easily reach Heaven. He swung right, into the rolling hills of thick pines, and then slowed as he reached his end of the bridge.

The intruder was already here...

And this intruder was not as Moran had expected. This intruder was female.

The night sky had opened to allow the full moon to flood the chasm with soft light. Moran could see the woman's cloak wafting in the wind behind her, one hand struggling to hold it at the neck as the other hand negotiated the rickety bridge's hand rope. Underneath, a thin white dress whipped about her form as well. It sometimes revealed her legs as high as her thighs or pressed so tightly to her that he could recognize her womanly features even from two hundred feet away.

At the same time that his body was feeling lust, his mind was feeling deep regret: the little head down below wanted her to make it across the bridge, to come to his side, to be in his world if only for a few hours or even a few minutes; but the big head knew that Moran himself was the only person still alive who knew the special way of transitting the bridge. One false step, and...

But as he watched...

This couldn't be. The young woman crossed the connector as if she did know its secrets. There had only been one person who knew the bridge's idiosyncracies, and that, of course, that could only mean that this girl's destination was Moran's cabin.

Or, what today was Moran's cabin.

As he watched the woman continue forward, looking down upon her from a slight ridge, Moran was conflicted. As a man who had long yearned for female companionship, he was more than happy to have a lone, young beauty arrive at the door step to his home. But his home...

Well, this was going to be a problem.

He backed into the woods, returned to the path ahead of the girl, and hurried ahead to prepare for her arrival...

"Cross the bridge, avoid the middle step. Go around the wooded hills, then turn left." She whispered to herself as she began walking on the bridge.

Grandmother's lullaby in her soothing voice always stuck with Madeline, in spite of Mother's ramblings how it was nothing more than a ridiculous folk song. Her fingers clutched on to the rope barrier. Middle step, middle step. It was quite a long walk from point A to point B. Her head spun a little when she glanced at the thousand feet drop full of water and jagged rocks.

She found herself nearing the halfway point. Any one of the wooden planks in front of her were bound to give way with a single step. In the darkness, she could not tell which one will be fragile to her touch.

Madeline closed her eyes. This was it.

She stretched her leg out, touching the second wooden plank in front of her. Cautiously, she placed a little more weight on to the supposed delicate board while holding tight to the rope.

It did not give way.

It was a small sigh of relief but she had much further to go. Recalling the song in her head, she had to go around the hill full of trees once she comes across it. Her dress or cloak were occasionally snagged by the twigs but she managed to come wiggle them free from her body.

The night sky made things a bit difficult for her to see. With the woods the way they are, Madeline found herself in a bit of trouble as she can't find the stone steps Grandmother once sang about.

Moran was making good time through the dark on a well known trail when something began to bother him. He stopped and stood in silence for several minutes before he realized what it was: the part of the forest in which the young woman should have been by now had returned to normality, with the owls hooting and night insects calling to their opposite genders.

Where is she...? he wondered.

After several more minutes, he began to worry. Then, of course, he wondered why he was worrying about her at all. The was an intruder: she and hers didn't belong here anymore and hadn't for some time, so why would he be concerned that perhaps she was lost in the woods or had fallen into the chasm on her last step?

He smiled slightly and realized that perhaps he wanted her to make it to the cabin. He turned back and made his way back down the hill to the steps. She should have been here by now, but there was no sign of her and it was Moran himself that caused the wildlife to become less lively.

It was nearly ten minutes later when he found her. She was deep in the woods, likely having mistaken a gap in the trees as the trail. He contemplated what to do about the situation for several minutes, watching her form pass in and out of the shadows created by the moon sneaking down through the tall trees.

It was obvious to him that she was hopelessly lost. He was disappointed, having decided without a doubt that he had wanted her to reach the cabin. There was nothing benevolent about his thoughts: his mind was filled with lust.

He whistled, a sound that couldn't have been mistaken as a bird. When she stopped dead in her tracks, he repeated the whistle, then called out with humor in his voice, "Are you lost little girl?"

For some time, Madeline wandered aimlessly in the woods. Around the wooded hills and turn left. That's what Grandmother used to sing to her. Instead, she found herself trapped among the trees. The further she went in, the deeper she got lost. No sign of the stone steps were anywhere nearby.

She sighed and leaned up against the tree. She rested the burlap sack beside her. It had been her first time out in the woods in this dead of the night. And now, for the first time, Madeline began to see just how ominous it really is.

The sound of a melodic whistle mixed in with the wind. A bird? No, she couldn't recall birds making that sort of noise.

"Are you lost little girl?"

Startled, Madeline hid behind the tree. She peeked out a tiny bit to see a man standing not far away from her. The closer he approached, the more Madeline retreated behind until only a lock of her blonde curls, her burlap sack, and red cloak were the only things visible.

"I..." She started to answer, but then stopped. Should she really trust the nice stranger?

"I think I'm lost. I'm heading to my grandmother's place."

Grandmother's house...

This girl was exactly who Moran had suspected her to be if she was expecting to find grandmother's house anywhere near here. Of course, wanting to find grandmother's house meant wanting find grandmother herself.

That's going to be a problem, he thought to himself. He told her, "I think perhaps you should go back down the hill, little girl."

He half stepped to his left as he approached her, trying to get a better look at her. He saw only brief flashes as she herself tried to get a better look at him. She seemed young, as he'd supposed. If she was in fact who he thought she was, she should have been around two decades old. It was just a guess of course: the hand drawn charcoal portraits that graced the wall of the cabin were of a girl who would likely be about that age now.

Madeline felt her face flush with embarrassment. It turns out she went up the hill instead of around.

"Around the wooded hills, then turn left," she repeated the directions to herself. "Climb up the rock steps, no creature has crept. Then around the river bend..."

She stopped when the man stood near her, shadowing her petite form. She looked up at him, nervous at his presence slowly drawing near but curious to know who he was. Something about his eyes and the way he looked at her almost made her afraid to break away.

"I...um...thank you. I should get going." Madeline's lips curled in to a small smile. Picking up her bag with one hand and adjusting her cloak with the other, she proceeded on foot, unaware of his gaze following her as she headed down the hill.

It took Madeline some time until she finally found the steps thanks to the light of the full moon. She was much closer to her only way of safety and freedom.

By the time she reached up the stairs, her legs were sore from the uphill walking she did. But a distance away, she could see the river bend with the moonlight's reflection gleaming at the clear waters. The wind almost blew her red cloak away but a quick grab near its end saved it from flying off.

Madeline saw the cabin not far away. The inside burned a soft glow from the fireplace. She dragged her feet to the front door, tired but happy that she finally got to her destination. She knocked a few times, peeking in the window to see if she was there.

"Grandma? It's me, Madeline."

Moran escorted the girl down to the main trail, stopping on a slight rise and pointing back the way she'd come. "The bridge is there. Take care."

She disappeared from his sight, which was both a relief and a disappointment. He didn't want anyone knowing the situation at the cabin to which she had been heading. But then again, Moran got a clearer look at her when she stepped out from behind the tree. She was beautiful, her blond hair and white-gowned body lit by the full moon. She was just the kind of woman he would want in his bed. She was just the kind of woman any man would want in his bed.

Moran had been alone for a long, long time. The feel of a woman and the pleasure he could receive from her -- willingly or not so much so -- was something he'd yearned for far too long.

So, when the sounds of the night told him that at the bottom of the trail, she'd turned toward the cabin once again and not the bridge, he wasn't too disappointed.

He headed quickly back over the hill on the well known trail and reached the cabin before her. He stoked the fire and lit a lamp on the table. Then, he waited.



It wasn't too long before she knocked and called, "Grandma? It's me, Madeline."

The door opened and a cloak shrouded Moran, hunching in an attempt to hide his height, stepped back quickly, hiding his face. In a raspy voice he said, "Madeline my child, it is so good to see you."

He walked away from her toward the fire, peeking back at her while shading his face from her.

The door was unlatched. Madeline stepped inside, seeing her grandma hunched by the fireplace. She looked around at her simple living, noticing the charcoal drawings on the wall of her when she was younger. Quite a surprising memory for her considering how often they were allowed to see each other without Mother's tyranny.

"Are you feeling okay? You sound a little sick. Maybe...maybe you should lie down."

She approached her closer from behind, placing her hand on her back. She was a bit surprised that her grandma felt firm to her touch. No, she had not seen her since she was a child. Things do change after a good number of years.

Grandmother's raspy tone continued, "No, Child, I am not well. Perhaps you should come another day. Next month perhaps."

Moran had little hope that his ruse would work. He wasn't a dummy, to think that this girl was unlikely to simply abandon her dear grandmother in her time of need. He wasn't sure why he'd even taken to this role: why hadn't he left the girl in the forest to die of exposure; or taken her there on the path, then tossed her into the chasm; or simply waited for her here, once again taking her before delivering her to her maker?

He was what the villagers would have termed a bad man. He didn't doubt that. But with all his faults and social flaws, he didn't consider himself a psychopath, too. When he did wrong he had a purpose, even if that perpose was simply his own pleasure or gain.

He knew why he'd allowed her to make it this far; and he knew why he was hunched over, speaking in that grating tone, misleading this concerned young woman as he was: it was enjoyable. Simple.

And while he had an outcome in mind for their meeting, he was also eager to be able to say later that he gave her a way out. He added, "Come again in the spring ... with soup ... and a book of stories to read to me ... entertain me."

Madeline was surprised. She couldn't help but feel a little crushed. Grandmother knew about the problems she and Mother had over the years. How could she tell her to go back to her controlling Mother?

"But..." she started to say. Madeline was unsure if she should admit that she ran away from home. What would Grandmother say to that? She took a step back, releasing her hand from her grandma's back.

"I can't leave you alone," Madeline nearly stumbled over her words. "You're sick. Sounds like your throat has been scratchy."

"I'm fine, deary," Moran went on, one half of him wanting the girl to get the hell out and the other wanting her never to leave. "You should go home..."

A new thought struck him. Would she go if she knew she was in danger...? And, if she didn't, wouldn't the fault of any harm to her fall upon her for making such a decision?

"You should go home to the safety of your home, Child," she rasped. "There are dangers in these woods. Dangers I do not fear, but ... but which could do you a harm from which you could never recover, Child. Go! Go home! Before you are sorry."

"I ran away from home! I can't go back after what happened tonight!"

Madeline realized too late that she spilled the secret out. She had not intended to tell Grandmother that she ran off after the fight she had with Mother. With one hand over her mouth, she took a few steps back. She sat down on a nearby rocking chair, taking off the cloak that covered her head.

"If mom found out I ran away from home, she'd kill me. You know what she's capable of."

Maybe Grandmother's illness, whatever it may be, made her delirious that she didn't know what she was saying. Madeline got up from the chair and made her way towards her.

"I think you should go to bed," she said, trying to remain calm. "Here, let me help you."

Madeline grabbed Grandma's arm, intending to wrap it around her shoulder and assist her in to her room. But once her hands got a hold of her arm, something wasn't right.

"Grandma, how...how did your arms get muscular?"

Moran almost pulled his arm away, but to do so would have only shown the strength that went along with those muscles. Ironically, not pulling away only allowed Madeline a longer moment to feel the powerful biceps, which did nothing to help with the continuation of his ruse.

"You must go, Child!" he spat out, continuing to hide his face from her under the cloak's hood she wore, supposedly to keep her old and frail body warm. "I cannot be responsible for what happens to you, Child. Do you want that responsibility on your own?"

"I don't care what happens to me as long as I'm not with my mother anymore!" Madeline cried out in desperation. "The only place I feel safe is with you! Don't you remember how you loved to tell me folk tales? How if I found my way out, I would be in a better place."

She pulled her hand away from her arm when she was asked about being ready to take the responsibility on her own. Grandmother did bring up a good point on responsibility. Madeline had been sheltered all her life, not knowing so much about the workings of the world outside of the four corners of her childhood home. It was like sending a six year old out on her own with no knowledge of what lies ahead.

But she wanted to learn. This was her only chance.

"You don't need to worry about being responsible for me, grandma. I can take care of myself. I finally have the chance to explore the world when mother wouldn't let me and you know that."

Moran stared at the fire, his evil grin shielded from her by the hood of her own gown.

"My child..." he began, his mind toying with the question of whether a deal with the devil was a deal at all. "...I am going to give you one last opportunity to do the right thing ... to save yourself from the evils of the world to which you have no knowledge or defense..."

He half glanced her direction, holding the hood up to his cheek. The effect was that she could see only his eye and the little bit of face about it, the light of the fire dancing in his lens.

"Go home," he repeated yet again, "or understand that you bring your own fate upon yourself by free will ... that you take responsibility for what becomes of you ... that what ever shall come, you shall accept with open arms..."

He wanted to add with open legs, because that was the fate his rock hard cock had in store for the blond in the red hood...

Madeline was taken aback when her grandma glanced up at her. Although her face was hidden by the cloak, it was her gaze that caught Madeline off her ground. Something about the eyes was familiar. She could have sworn she had seen it before....but where?

Still, Madeline was defiant. She loved Grandmother but something wasn't quite right. Why was she telling her to go back to the one person they loathed. She thought her grandma would be happy to see that she escaped.

"I made it this far. I'm not going back to Mother." Madeline tried to put on a brave face but her insides clenched together at the uncertainty by Grandmother's ominous words. "The forest didn't kill me, and neither will the evil."

"The evil will not kill you, my dear," Moran said in that raspy false grandmother voice as he turned to face Madeline, rising to his full height and letting the cape drop away. In his normal deep male voice he added, "But once I'm done with you, you may wish it had."

Moranwas a good foot taller than the blond, with a solid, muscular body built by a life of hard, outdoor work. He reached out quickly and snatched one of Red's wrists, holding it firmly, almost painfully, pulling her toward him.

"Welcome to my home, deary," he said, his eyes taking a walk over her form. "We're going to have a lot of fun."

Madeline's heart sunk when Grandmother's voice changed from whispery tones to a dark, male register. She watched in horror as she watched the transformation of what she thought was her only safety grow taller in to a monster. Finally seeing his face and stature, she realized that he was the stranger she encountered in the woods much earlier when she was lost.

There was only one instinct she could act on: Run.

But she would not be able to get further than a few steps. He reached out and snatched her wrist, gripping it like a vice that she was scared he might break the bones inside. He pulled her close to him. Their bodies were mere inches from touching one another.

"You..." She started to say. She shrieked when he tightened his grip on her wrist. "What did you to my grandma?"

Moran slapped his free hand over Madeline's mouth to silence her, not that anyone out here was going to hear her and rush to her rescue. He reached his other hand to the small of her back, pulled her tightly into him, and lifted her from her feet ... and headed directly toward dear old Grandmother's bed.

"Granny ain't here, Darling," he told her with a wide smirk, "but the evil which you seem not to fear is."

Her screams were immediately silenced by his hand over his mouth. Anything else that came out were nothing more than muffled cries. Madeline felt him lifting her body off of the ground until her head was near the same level as his. The smirk across his face made her more terrified on what he would do to her next.

As they headed for the bedroom, Madeline kicked at the man's legs as hard as she could. For all her effort, he did not appear to flinch at her feeble attempts to break free.

Judging by his strength, his muscles that she felt earlier, and the firmness of his body, Madeline knew she was doomed to be entrapped in his grasp, her fate now in his hands.

Moran practically threw Madeline to the bed, causing her to bounce once so high that she nearly reacned the far side and fell off. He was atop her so quickly she had little time to think about escaping, let alone do it. He grabbed her blouse, right between her breasts, and jerked downward: one side ripped away from her shoulder, revealing a firm, young breast.

Moran smiled as she fought, reminding her of the trade of her mother's companionship for his with an evil chuckle, "The evil you know is often more tolerated than the you don't know."

Before she knew it, Madeline was thrown on the bed hard that she almost bounced off of the mattress. She grabbed the side to steady herself but the man was practically on top of her before she could even react.

Madeline cried out, trying desperately to fight against him. Her fingers clawed at him as he reached down her blouse, hoping that it would be enough deter him away from whatever he was planning to do tonight.

His hand tore away at the fabric that concealed her body. She was ashamed by the reveal of her left bare breast that she rolled over to her side to keep him from seeing her in the partial nude. No man, or no one, except for Mother saw her in any state of undress before. But he forced her on her back, her firm breast bared.

She heard him went on to say how the evil she was familiar with was a lot more tolerable than the one that was unknown to her. This did not calm her fears; instead only terrifying her to wonder what was he capable of that differed from the monsters in Mother and Grandmother's stories.

Madeline was putting up a hell of a fight, but Moran simply to strong for her. He managed to get both of her wrists pinned to the mattress above her head, using the weight of his torso to pin her body. He worked his knees to push her thighs wider, then reached his free hand down to pull Madeline's dress hem upwards. He reached inside her panties, searching for her wetness.

His lips spread in a wider smile as his fingers began playing amongst her lips. He watched and listened to her reactions, asking, "Feel good ... deary?"

Madeline's use of her arms were of no use now that Moran had them pinned under his hold. She hoped that she could roll over to the side but before she could even try, he pressed his body on top of hers, rendering most of her body motionless. Feeling his knees spread her legs apart, she tried to kick her way out.

She couldn't see what he was doing to her. His face hovered above her with that wicked smile still plastered on his lips, opposite to his gentleman disguise in the earlier encounter.

Then he began lifting up her dress.

NO! her mind screamed. She was afraid of what he had planned for her tonight. Had it not been for the light of the full moon that beamed inside the room, Moran would have likely seen a flushed and embarrassed Madeline lying below him.

His fingers then made its way underneath her panties and between her legs. An unfamiliar and uneasy feeling ran through her body.

"Stop," She said, weakly struggling under his weight. "Stop. Please, get off of me."

Madeline had never felt this feeling, this sensation before. What was this? A part of her was disgusted at Moran's violation of her sensitive areas. Yet there was another part of her...another side that wanted to explore this new sensation further. Her body slowly relaxed the more he "massaged" her.

He then asked her if she was feeling good from his actions.

"NO!" She answered back, desperate to remain defiant against this monster. "I am not! I am not!"

As she continued to spite him, she heard a faint squishing sound. She felt her inner thighs slowly coated with a thick like substance. What was going on?