Physically Stronger Wife

[Original]

Title: Back Home
Author: body-ko
Fandom: Original
Rating: R
Word Count: 1172 (W)
Prompt: Verde - TricoloreChallenge@fanworld.it
Summary: was accustomed to the feeling of slow decay, decay and disintegration, overlooking the woods in autumn.

The Buik black, immaculately polished, stopped at the roadblock.
"Hence you do not pass," said a soldier leaning out the window. Inside he saw a woman who had never seen, she was wearing the uniform of the Reich, and a pair of enormous glasses hid his eyes blacks.
"I have a special permit," she said with a dry voice and gave the soldier a package countersigned by the command.
"Hence there is not any," insisted the man without even looking, "these The following orders. "
The woman gave a deep sigh:
"Can you give me the courtesy to inform his superiors?" The woman asked with a persuasive voice, "Tell them that corporal Mariza Miller asks for permission to cross the border ' .
The soldier looked at her suspiciously, he seemed all a colossal idiot, no one could cross the border and certainly not a woman alone. But security soaked in the voice of the kind of soldier with her tits, somehow, made him resolve to make a phone call for confirmation.
He returned after a few minutes, he motioned to the other soldiers to raise the bar and move the barbed wire: the Buik departed and soon disappeared from sight, swallowed by the forest.
"Who the fuck is that woman?" Asked the soldier to his comrade, fumandosi a cigarette on the sly.
"If you ask me," replied his colleague with a blank expression in the tired blue eyes, "that's why we lose this war."

The air was clear on that autumn afternoon, the rain had taken away all impurities, and crystalline Buik advancing cautiously in reality that surrounded him, and that weakened by the eye with his uncompromising purity: in the forest all was exactly what it seemed.
The sky was full of sulfurous clouds, full of new rain, and the girl looked thoughtful as he soon had to abandon the car to walk, and the trip could become very uncomfortable.
The dirt road ended and Mariza got out, venturing on foot into the forest. The leaves of the forest sparkled, touched by nicotine-stained fingers of light, blackberries, grapes dangling from the brambles, they lay on the ground bark of beech and acorn shells stuck in the mud between the reddish and withered ferns, the rain had so equinox soaked the soil to make it similar to a swamp, the thick military boots Mariza sank in the mud, but the woman there did not care. It was prepared for what you would find in the forest, because only one person knew the territory better than she had lived most of his life in the forest. She was used to the feeling of slow decay, decay and disintegration, which dominated the forest in autumn, was accustomed to elders withered-looking anorexic, firs, which closes on her, as if to remind you that after entering the forest, was more free, but his life belonged to the lord of the woods, and he alone could decide to let it go. Patient knew that silence, the rustling of the trees was like the soft rustle of the skirts of women anxious about that, blinded by the sharp brilliance of the forest, had never managed to get out. Among the trees blacks chased crows, occasionally throwing raucous ways in the air. A stream from the black water and the banks made treacherous by mud flowing from the depths of the forest: Mariza had never followed the course of the river, and suddenly wondered where those unhealthy water sprang. Their origin, however, knew her. The river rose from a rock, which was located near an old rectory, inhabited by an old, old, creature of human had only the appearance.

Mariza came across from the parsonage, it was a simple and durable construction as the very foundations of the earth around the building, a garden of stone statues that once were women: they called the cemetery of the virgins; Corporal ignored the horrors that surrounded him, had long since ceased to mourn for the slaves, the sons of slaves and destined for death of slaves. He took off his sunglasses that gave it form, he looked like a woman no longer young, the fine lines marked face, his eyes were green, green as green apples, Wrecks covered in green as seaweed and her eyes were so big, an unnatural glow and left, like those of werewolves. Mariza's eyes were a mirror, reflecting the fate of those who travel in the shadow of death, they are trapped in an invisible and durable spider the minds of men, who were forced to watch again and again a reflection of their most dark fears there was a black hole at the center of his eyes, was their heart still, and every human being who had laid eyes for too long, it was crazy.
knocked on the door of the rectory, the man came to open eyes and a pair of identical to her to keep it a few inches away, he stepped aside to let her in and Mariza was home again. The King of the Gnomes was an extraordinary housewife, her poor house was impeccable: the pots and dishes clean lay in perfect order by the fireplace, as well-polished shoes, the fireplace hung garlands of dried mushrooms made of thin type, enriched jew called ears, and grew on trees elder when he chose a Judas to hang himself, were kept in jars multicolored piles of dried herbs: thyme, marjoram, sage, vervain, wormwood and yarrow and the room was full of music and perfumes, the fire in the fireplace, always lit, the room cheered with his flame and bathed in a sweet and acrid smoke.
"Stay for dinner?" He asked with a soft voice.
"I'm back for good, my lord," replied the woman. The man laughed, pleased.
"Are you tired of your wandering?".
"I'm tired of humans to me. Do not know what they were able in this last war, "she threw herself on the couch, loosening his collar," and then we would be bad. "
The man sat down next to his beloved, and she lay her head on his knees, big calloused hands caressing his hair and traced the contours of the androgynous face gently inhuman. With the same ease with which skin a rabbit, the King of the Gnomes took off his uniform, to discover a body lean, white-skinned, then bent to kiss her with his tongue, rough as sandpaper. The licked her neck, chest, back and thighs and then, and at every stroke of the rough language, removed a layer of skin, to leave a shiny layer of hair. The nails returned claws, ears took over the tip of their original shape and eyes, which were the key to his mystery, to rediscover their vertical pupil, loving, old lord of the forest watching the wolf that lay in her lap.
"Welcome home, my daughter."


Citations to still satisfy the King of Gnomes and The Bride of the Tiger of Angela Carter.