The Fountain Ch. 05

This chapter will answer some questions about Henry's "grandmother"'s past that should explain something about her character.

As usual for compliance purposes, all the characters who participate in sexual acts are 18 years of age or older.

Much of this part of the story takes place in the past. It contains scenes of incest, violence, rape, and racism. If you are interested solely in descriptive sexual encounters this chapter does not have it. The sex in this chapter is second-hand and takes mostly off stage. If you are interested in the continuation of the main storyline, then please read on.

THE FOUNTAIN

CH. 05

Once again I was someone else. This time however I didn't experience a specific event but a series of events, memories, and thoughts.

I stared at the angry and suspicious face of my young wife, as she lay naked upon our bed. Her lip curled in a frustrated pout. "It's been a fortnite, Anais! Have you grown tired of me already? Before we were wed you could not wait to get me out of my clothes and swive me all night! Now your cod flops about like a dead fish!"

I felt a great rage rise up in me along with the desire to pummel her for daring to mock my ailment! "Silence woman, no doubt it is your fault."

"Aye, and I suppose I caused the dry rot in the chair you just made!" A memory of me proudly presenting a handcrafted and lacquered chair to Squire Daviess swirled up in my head. However when he sat upon it one of the legs cracked and sent him tumbling upon the ground. He raised his walking stick to me and shoved me out of the way as he strode from my carpentry shop. "No wonder you're cheaper than your Da!"

I hadn't noticed the dry rot in the chair when I made it. Or had it been there? Perhaps not. Perhaps it was part of an ongoing curse against me. I'd tired of my Father's constant criticism of my work and his refusal to allow me to take on my own commissions. Always telling me I wasn't ready. I was too impatient. I rushed through projects. I'd finally left his carpentry shop to open my own, undercutting his prices. Yet my business had been slack. I'd thought I'd gotten a patron in Squire Daviess but that failed to manifest.

I walked out of the bedroom before I thrashed her for her impertinent tongue! However, she was correct. In addition to my defunct manhood, other ills had befallen me. I resolved to talk to my mother about my situation. She was a godly woman and always had good advice. Perhaps she might even know some physic to help me.

Next I was sitting in the parlor of my parent's house. That is Anais' parent's house. It was a small room with several chairs with cushions around the stone fireplace. My mother, Virginia sat in a chair next to me. The fire was hot and felt stuffy in the small room but that is not the only reason I felt warm and stifled. My mother was a lady of nearly forty years yet she remained one that seemed in the bloom of youth. Unlike others of her age, she was no withered hag. For the first time I noticed just how beautiful and attractive was my mother.

Although I'd failed to get a rise for Anne my wife, I now discovered to my great shame and disgust, that I now felt most ardent towards my own mother. I now felt confounded how could I tell my mother about my failings as a man when clearly such concerns were unfounded. After a bit of small talk, I hurried home to my wife. Yet as I approached my homestead, my vigor abated. Anne was once again unable to make my horn rise.

Weeks passed. The dreams had been coming nightly. First, it had been my mother and then my aunt. I lusted for them and only them. My wife could not get me aroused nor could any other woman in my village. I was cursed, of that, I was for cert! I got down on my knees and prayed most fervently for forgiveness for whatever transgression caused my malady!

Months passed. My wife has departed me, gone to live with her parents. My shop lays gathering dust. All my clients have gone back to my Father! I see my reflection in the cup of water I force down. I am haggard, dirty. My hair and beard have become long and gnarled growths. I cannot work; every waking thought is filled with the images of my naked mother and naked aunt doing the most evil and licentious acts with me. My sleep was also plagued with these images.

I resolve to confront my father, certain that he has bewitched me for defying him, for starting my own carpentry business to compete with his.

As I neared to my father's carpentry shop I was suddenly seized with a powerful and clamoring lust that made walking difficult. It is almost as though something drew me closer to the shop. The shop is closed for the noon day meal yet I hear voices. It is my Aunt and Father talking in a foreign tongue. It is not Spanish. It sounds... demonic! Like the speech of the red devils that surround us. I peer into the hole in the wall that I had used to spy upon my father as he worked, learning wood-crafting secrets he claimed I was too inexperienced to know. To my horror, I saw my Father and his sister engaged in illicit sexual congress! My lust flared along with a sudden murderous rage! I am jealous of my father for taking my woman! I ran from the shop lest I do violence to my father. The further away I got from them my rage subsided as did my lust. There was no longer any doubt! My father John Delunn was a witch!

To my surprise, the colony Proctor did not need any evidence other than my word to seek out my Father as a Witch. As the Proctor and four armed men made their way to my Father's house, I accompanied them As we neared my former home I felt a heat rise through me. The unholy lust once again sprang forth in my loins. As I adjusted myself I received a knowing look and a wink from one of the Proctor's men. He too was aroused. I realized with a shock that it was the anticipated violence that gave him such ardent feelings.

The door opened and out stepped my mother. She was dressed in a thick leather shirt and leggings like a Native! In either hand, she had a pistol and a pair of hatchets were slipped into a belt at her waist.

"You are trespassing on our homestead! Leave now or be fired upon."

"Stand aside woman! We are doing the Lord's work! Your husband stands accused of breaking the Colony's laws!"

"We are not signatories of your Colony compact nor members or your colony! Your laws do not bind us!"

"Your husband stands accused of witchery and bedevilment. Against God's universal laws! Stand aside or be cut down!"

I stood there paralyzed, trying to control the extreme lust that now gripped me. I wanted to rush my mother, throw her on the ground and swive her senseless!

"Blast this wench!" shouted the Proctor's man who craved violence. His flintlock fired with a cloud of smoke and the acrid stench of gunpowder. Through the gunpowder mist, I saw my mother squat and fire her left pistol. The ball grazed her shoulder tearing a wide swath through her leather shirt, furrowing the flesh beneath. As the bullet struck her I felt as though I'd been stabbed in the gut.

Beside me, the Proctor's man who'd fired fell as though poleaxed, a ball torn hole in his gullet. My mother took aim at me and then her face froze. A look of horror crossed her face as she suddenly recognized me. Her pause was terminal. Two of the remaining Proctor's men fired upon my Mother. As I saw the balls strike her head and chest it was as though they struck me as well.

With a savage cry, my father ran from the cabin. He screamed in a foreign tongue and as raced at me a war tomahawk raised. The Proctor calmly shot my father in the leg.

"Take him alive, boys, we have a trial to put on."

The Proctor had my father patched up well enough to be put to the question. Despite what measures they used however he never spoke a word. The Proctor was angry that my Father did not denounce any more witches. When he began to eye me suspiciously I kept to my cabin. I was still plagued by my unholy lust but now it was solely about my aunt! Any dreams I had about my mother were nightmares about her death!

However, I did sneak into town on the day of my father's execution for witchery. I wanted to see the hanging of the bastard who had cursed me! As my father breathed his last dancing on the end of a rope I felt jubilation. Now I could return to my wife, to my life, and to my business, which should flourish without my Father's competition!

However to my horror that night I dreamt terrible dreams yet again. I still dreamed most ardently about my aunt and had nightmares about the death of my mother. I also had nightmares about the hanging of my Father. The death of my father did nothing to abate my unholy lust. After his death, it grew until it seemed as though my every waking moment was consumed with lust and desire. Yet this desire was only in my mind I could not become erect and satiate my desire. Only in my sleep did release come as nightly dreams about my aunt befouled my breeches. I realized now that the true witch was my aunt, who had fled the area upon the arrest of my Father!

After a month of this pure hell of constant and unslaked lust, I succumbed to the madness that had been on the fringes of my mind for nearly a year.

In an uncontrolled rage, I took an axe to my home and flung a lit lantern into it! I threw a rope over a tree limb and attached a loop to my neck. I climbed the tree and stood on the branch to jump to my death. Darkness claimed me.

I found myself walking across a stream. I saw my reflection in the stream. My hair and beard were longer than had been and were tangled with leaves, brambles, and needles. Was that caked blood in my beard? I was much thinner. My clothes were torn rags barely covering my body. Was I in hell for committing suicide? If so, Hell was much like the untamed New World wilderness. After a bit, I realized that my plan to kill myself had gone awry and I'd been walking for days or weeks? Part of my bewitchment, no doubt!

Of this I was certain when I crossed the stream and walked over the top of a rise. In the valley below I saw a Native encampment consisting of three small bark and branch huts. There were three women and four children moving about the central fire. With a shock, I recognized one of the women as my aunt! As soon as I saw her other images flooded my mind.

I walked and walked and walked through the wilderness like a determined and single minded dog following a scent. I drank water from ponds, streams, and puddles when my thirst became too intense. I ate fruits, berries, insects, and small animals whenever hunger became extreme. Upon my back was slung a leather bag containing the tools of my trade. How or why I had gotten them were lost memories.

After an endless trek, I arrived at the spot I now stood and saw my Aunt. The burgeoning lust blossomed but I ignored it. Some innate sense of self-preservation kept me from attacking the Natives. A plan formed in the dark recesses of my mind. I saw myself dig out a small hillock and building a wooden frame inside it, creating a small cabin. From the outside, my cabin still looked like a small grass covered hill. Inside the cabin, I built a large cage. A cage for a demon!

Now that everything was in readiness, I was once again back to my senses albeit still bespelled. At night I crept into the native settlement and into the hut shared by my aunt and an elderly couple. I knocked my Aunt unconscious with a padded wooded cudgel. I then did the same for the two elderly Natives. Once out of the hut I hurried away with my Aunt slung over my shoulder.

My escape was not as easy as I had planned. Close proximity to my aunt had stoked my lust to a most hellish degree. My horn was stouter than it had ever been! Walking, much less running from the Native encampment difficult in the extreme. Lust consumed me making me flushed and trembly, yet I persevered. Once inside my hidden cabin, I bound and gagged my aunt. And then finally, finally, finally I took my revenge upon this most foul and evil witch!

I mounted her like the bitch she was and after my long bewitchment had my way with the object of my temptation! Oh, dear Lord, this veritable she-devil had a heavenly host! The pleasures I felt upon entering her demonically sweet cunny were such that I swear I heard the Angels sing! My aunt sprang to consciousness upon my entry into her womanly cavern. Her thrashing and bucking only added to my pleasures and within a moment. I emptied what seemed like a copious amount of seed inside her. Yet when I pulled out not a drop of milk followed.

Was this not proof of her consorting with the devil? As I was about to shove her into the cage I'd made for her yet I was once again besotted with lust. Several times that night I took and filled that unholy vessel. Each time, although I knew I was doing evil the feeling of doing so was purely paradisaical!

The next day I had some unwelcome visitors. Somehow the Natives tracked me to my cabin. Although some might say it was because of their superlative woodcraft, I suspected it was more because my captive Witch had summoned them. As they were wandering about in the front of my hidden cabin I opened a fire slit and shot one with an arrow. Then I dispatched the other as he ran toward me. I then stripped them off everything useful and then dragged them far away from my cabin to let nature deal with their corpses.

Without their two warriors, the rest of the Natives soon departed the area, leaving me alone with the Witch. I was thus able to mete out her punishment without interference. Though the good book states Thou Shalt not Suffer a Witch to Live, I did not kill her. I knew that if I did kill her my curse would still continue and my only option would be to kill myself. Yet God had stayed my hand from this afore so I was condemned to suffer. Why? I reasoned that God wished me to punish this evil witch before sending her to her final reward.

Over the next few weeks, I worked to break this demonic woman. I knew my Aunt to be a woman of strong will and imperious manner and I was determined to humble her before God! I pummeled her senseless and then took my pleasure of her several times a day. For weeks the only sustenance I allowed her was water poured through her gag. One day when I heard this prideful woman sobbing in misery, I knew she was broken.

I threw some cooked offal into a bowl and pushed it into her cage. Since her hands and feet were still bound, she lay on her belly and devoured it like a starving cur.

"Now tell me, Jezebel, why have you cursed me? Was it at my Father's bidding?"

My aunt pretended bewilderment as if she did not know of what I spoke.

"You laid a curse upon me that I cannot lie with my wife but only feel an unholy lust for you and my mother!"

She once more put on a pretense of ignorance of my plight. My aunt then launched into a fantastical story wherein she was in truth not my Aunt but my Grandmother and my father was not her brother but her son. He too had been cursed with such an ailment but he had found my mother, perhaps there was a woman like that for me!

"Oh, aye. I should go searching among the Native wenches and be killed for my efforts, Or I should go looking throughout the colonies, leaving you to wreak your evil upon the world! No, my sweet Auntie Nana, God has placed us here and now for a reason, to punish us for your wickedness!"

A flash of spirit came over her tired, harrowed face and her eyes glimmered with hatred. "You have too much of the Spaniard in you!"

I quieted her with my fists and then took her once again.

After several months of this treatment, I thought I'd finally broken her and allowed her to eat more to regain her strength so she could perform some chores. This proved to be an almost fatal mistake. She stabbed at me with a knife while I slept. Or tried. At the last moment, she halted transfixed with the knife above my heart. Her punishment left her a bloody mess. I had a most exquisite thrill taking her while she was in such a state.

Near to my cabin, I had a small patch of vegetables but mainly hunted for food using snares and arrows. The woodcraft that my father and mother had taught me turned out not to be a waste after all.

After two years of her penance, she was dull-eyed and listless. She performed chores of housecleaning, tanning, and curing tans and pelts. However, I did not trust her to prepare my food, and every night I shut her back into her cage. I hunted, and gardened a bit but devoted most of my energy to tormenting the Witch! Once a year I would make a trek to the nearest town to trade my furs and hides. Time passed. I didn't keep a calendar so it was hard to tell if it was mere months or years. I did not think it could be the latter since despite her ordeal she did not seem to age. As time passed however it seemed that civilization was encroaching upon me.

Despite however many times, I ravaged her within moments or hours I was soon at the ready again. I knew 'twas unnatural yet was consumed with the need to mate with her!

One day I heard voices speaking English. Someone had discovered my garden and was pilfering it. I armed myself to confront the thieves. Although I could have sneaked to kill them at night in truth I was somewhat starved for company. Although as I approached I realized that these would not be any persons with whom I would like to converse.

Two white men dressed in buckskins and carrying whips and rifles were roasting some of my potatoes, squash, and corn in a pot with some meat. Nearby, chained to a tree was a woman and a man with skin even darker than the Savages. I realized with a start that these must be Africans! The man and woman wore collars from which four long hooked spikes jutted. They were dressed in torn and dirty crude homespun shifts. Whip marks scored their legs and arms. As I neared I became overcome with a deep lust, not so deep as I had for my Aunt but deeper than I'd ever experienced for my lady wife. Was this African wench then the woman who was to become my mate? I supposed that given my other curses that this was the case.

The two Africans looked at me with wary interest, although they hid this from the two white men. The white men looked at me with surprise and slight expressions of disgust. I guess my appearance was a bit more disarrayed than even they were used to seeing.

"I would've gladly shared a portion of my garden with you but I see that you've helped yourself to part of my harvest."

"Hold friend, we didn't think it belonged to anyone." said a tall, lanky man who lifted his rifle to a point at me."

"Ah you believed that God somehow transformed part of the wilderness into a cultivated garden just for your benefit, eh?"

His companion laid his hand on the other's gun barrel. "What my partner means is that since we didn't see a cabin hereabouts we thought that the garden belong to some savages. We haven't much but we are willing to pay or trade having taken your fare."

"Okay, I'll take the African wench."

The tall lanky one raised his rifle once again. "Surely you jest. These paltry vittles ain't nearly worth prime stock as this."

"Besides, the wench is not ours to sell. We're merely fetching back someone else's lost property." said the other with a more soothing tone.

"I have some prime furs and pelts that I'd be willing to trade for her. Perhaps you never found her." I suggested slyly.

The shorter one started to speak but this time the lanky one spoke, giving his companion a look. "Perhaps we could work that deal, friend. Why don't you take us to your dwelling so we can inspect these furs?"

"I'll bring them to you here. You don't need to see where I've got my traps or my home."

After a brief visit to my home, I returned to the area where the slave catchers were encamped. Accompanying me was my Aunt, who was hobbled, gagged, and carrying the bulk of my furs in a pack strapped to her back. My little witch was quite the sight, bruised and bloody from her latest beating, her black hair a wild bird's nest and dressed in rags through which her unwashed and malnourished body peeked.