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The Maiden's Legs
Not one living heart had seen my deed for it was perfectly, flawlessly planned out. Each time I saw the maiden of the neighboring gates, I stood for moments admiring her fine, delicate neck and her supple, tan skin. Yet there was some part of her that I could not help but find irresistible. Yes irresistible. Thus, every day as I passed her by, an immense urge to sully her chastity with my own lips overcame me. It was only through extreme self-control that I was able to devise a plan: A structured, organized, and clever, yes, very clever plan to take her and make her mine. After much careful, yes very careful, planning, I set it into motion at once.
Every night for half a fortnight, when the moon was at its highest I came by, silently, so silently, to dig a small hole beneath the gates of the castle. With each passing day the hole grew in girth and depth. Every night I stood amidst the darkness, in the mud and dirt, digging, yes digging so quietly. But a shovel would create such a ruckus, that I chose to use my very hands to dig the hole, yes my very hands that would soon curl its fingers around her slender throat. Every time I sensed a movement in the dark, I would stand perfectly still, absolutely still so no one, not even a trained marksman, would notice my presence in the night. Yes. With every inch of dirt, I felt myself closer, grow closer to my prey. Until, alas! I had finished my pathway towards there she laid waiting.
Once the hole was done, on the very day at which the maiden was to be most ripe, ever so slyly, I broke into the castle . As I stood spying at her plump and luscious figure, she lay on her bed, wearing an auburn dress, so slender and so dainty. Her skin, shone under the light, and I stared for a moment only to marvel at her tight and shaped breasts. She, however, was surrounded by many guards and for many hours I stood within the shadows, so still and so cunning.
With each glorious step, my heart raced faster and an uncontrollable smile began to creep across onto my face; just a little more and the maiden would be mine. As each guard left his station, I marveled at the maiden’s legs: so slender yet plump with juice, so fragile and so pure. I could feel my hands shaking with the urge to violate her, to sully her chastity. I could touch her skin, so smooth and savory, and her scent, her aroma, was so seductive that, suddenly, I hoped to end the maiden’s chastity at once. But no! I was too cunning, yes, too cunning to simply lose her by such an impulse. So I continued to wait, heart beating, hands ready to curl around the maiden’s neck and break her apart in one fell swoop.
With one swift movement I leaped over onto my prey. The maiden, surprised, found herself with nowhere to run, and succumbed to my assault. The terror turned her skin pale. The maiden was completely paralyzed: fragile and unable to move.
Now it came to my understanding that it would be impossible for me to take her. Yes I was too smart. I would not be able to take her whole body and escape without being noticed. At once I made the decision to take a leg of this beauty with me. Yes, her legs had always been so tempting to my eyes. I remember, exactly a year before this day, as she wore her gossamer gown, the light that shone upon her legs and the exact curvature that tempted me toward damnation. Her sultry dancing legs that crossed and uncrossed themselves across the courtyard did not leave my mind for many a days. Every day since then I had dreamt of her legs, yes her luscious thighs, and I planned ever since then, to one day take them with me. If I could not make her mine, at least I would have her legs.
In one swift movement I ripped out the very things that tempted to no end. I could feel the sinews of her flesh stretch as her joint was torn from its socket with a click: layers of flesh lay hanging out the sides of her mid-section that once had legs attached to it. I was an artist underneath the light. The crimson lake of blood, the white of her bones that protruded out her body, the brown flaps of skin that remained. I found her body more seductive than ever as I created this masterpiece, this piece of art in making the maiden more beautiful than she ever was in life. The carnage of blood, flesh and bones before me in all their splendor.
Finally her thighs were mine, and as I held them tightly within my grasp, so tightly, I ran, with the most speed and with the least sound possible to any living entity. Yes, I was so cunning, so swift and so quick: no one had noticed my deed. And Finally! Finally her thighs were mine, mine to adore and mine to take with me.
Taking the remains of the maiden’s thighs, I quickly headed towards the gate with utmost care and caution.
Yet it was at this moment that I turned to see a man staring directly at me. Could it have been that he had seen me?! No! It was not possible! My deed was so clean, so sharp and so quick! My heart began to race.
The man, with a gruff voice asked me, “What are you doing?”
A shiver moved down my spine. As I looked up to see his face, I felt it! Yes it was evident! His eyes clearly suspected something of me! No. It could not be! Did he know? Yet through his voice and his question, it was all clear. The man slowly approached, step by step, looking deeper into my eyes, into my guilt and the darkness of my soul. He was aware, fully aware of my deed. Oh wretched man, how he derived pleasure from watching me squirm beneath the guilt he inflicted upon my soul. As I stood in absolute horror, the thumping of my heart began grew as loud as thunder. And at once I could not take it anymore.
I took the remains from where I was hiding them and raised them high, exclaiming, “Yes! It is I who had killed the maiden!”
The man looked down upon me and said, “Cookie! Why are you barking? Did you steal that Turkey leg from our neighbors!...Ugh I’m going to have to go apologize…Bad dog! Cookie! Bad dog!!”