Chapter 1

Caitlin Looses Herself to Halloween 01

Dullichan: from Celtic Mythology; a headless black rider death follows where he stops

The curly crimson locks and piercing green eyes that stared back at Caitlin from behind the mirror were not her own. She 'knew' that. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that. These past few days it seems her body had developed a mind of its own. The slender fingers that sought out the folds of her crimson pussy have also developed their own thoughts it seemed. As they stroked and traced their way around her cunt and pubic hair, then twirling around her swollen clit, she once again let them have their way with her. She no longer bothered to resist as she gleefully let these demonic digits dance around her pleasure center and send her once more into throws of ecstasy. She lay back on her bed, spreading her recently lengthened legs and longing for the fingers to work their magic. First, the purring murmurs of pleasure as the fingers coaxed and teased, then the moans of anticipation as the fingers massaged their way into her brain again and then, rising on a wave of pleasure surging through her aching pussy, she arches her back forcing the fingers deeper and lets loose a guttural groan then a cry of ecstasy, complete surrender as those fingers...

It was almost a week ago that Cait's sister, Erin, had told announced she was coming to spend some time with her after her divorce, and she was actually looking forward to this year's Halloween. It had not been a particularly long marriage. The man who lusted after one too many secretaries, waitresses, 'working girls', and just about any other weak-minded young thing with a pair of pouty lips and a predilection for employing them in oral pleasure on his 'personal staff'. Sucking cock was another one of those things that Cait just didn't do. Not for any real reason except that she could not see how she would feel any pleasure from such a degrading act. She honestly couldn't recall what he saw in her besides the free legal advice. With sandy blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a firm athletic body, she was not lacking attractiveness, but her awkwardness in social exchanges from her mousy personality and overly protected upbringing were a handicap her marriage could not overcome.

Caitlin busied herself with preparations for Halloween and that meant getting the perfect pumpkin to carve. Just a few blocks from her house the Holy Name church was having its pumpkin sale fund raiser. According to Father Mike, the pumpkins were supplied from a farm outside of Salem, Massachusetts. Cait was pleased to hear that as she had recently bought an ornate silver carving knife while antiquing in Salem a couple of weeks before. Antiquing was a favorite pastime as the bookish side of her was drawn to the stories behind the artifacts she acquired. This particular knife which she had bought was older than the country itself being made in Boston in the late sixteen hundreds.

"An historic owner behind that particular piece," Caitlin recalled the sales lady saying, "How it found its way to Salem was a story lost to time. But it was part of the estate of one of our earliest ministers." The sales lady, Abigail, a statuesque woman in her early forties, explained. She continued telling Cait about the succession of owners of the knife, but it was the lady's emerald eyes behind the gold reading glasses that captured her attention for some strange reason.

"It is one of a set of seven, for the deadly sins, each one with its own ornamentation around the handle as you can see here". As Abigail stroked the handle of the knife it seemed to glow, as the sunlight through the window glinted off the spine. "This one is all that is left from the original set."

Caitlin enjoyed taking in the atmosphere of the shop. Abigail was a wonderful source of local history and enjoyed showing various pieces of silverware to her. Cait simply could not pass up the allure of the carving knife. There was something drawing her to it but she just couldn't put her finger on what. After agreeing to 'come again', she purchased the knife and thanked "Abby" for her time.

Uncorking a bottle of merlot and pouring herself a glass, Cait went to a drawer in her silver chest and unpacked her new 'old' knife. She smiled to herself as she was suddenly reminded of Abby's tight red bun of hair as she removed the knife from its red cloth wrapping. Carving this pumpkin was the first actual use for the knife since she bought it a couple weeks ago. Gripping the oddly crafted handle she remarked that it felt warm to the touch despite it being a chilly day. Carving off the top of the pumpkin was surprisingly easy as the sharp blade made its way down and up, in and out, easily penetrating the firm flesh.

Once the top was removed and the insides scooped out, Cait set about sculpting the features that would 'breathe life into the old Dullichan' as she used to tell her younger sister when they were kids. She carefully sliced out a pair of almond shaped holes with a circle left in for the eye ball, the knife leading the hand more than following. Sharply angled eye brows and a sinister smile gave the jack-o-lantern a much more devilish appearance than she had intended. Taking a step back to admire her handiwork, she was sure her sister would enjoy their Dullichan.

After pouring herself another glass of wine, she opened a new set of candles and placed one in the jack-o-lantern. She then set it on the ledge of the large bay window so the neighbors could get a good look at the Dullichan as she lit the candle and dimmed the room lights. Its devilish look was magnified again in the window as if something sinister was looking in.

With the remains of the pumpkin guts tossed, and the knife properly cleaned, wrapped, and put back in the silver chest, she poured another glass and headed for her bedroom, trying to put the sinister image out of her mind. After changing into a warm flannel sleepshirt she picked up her kindle from the night stand and settled into the overstuffed reading chair by the long arched window in the bedroom. Another thought of that sinister reflection outside the picture window down stairs sent a slight chill through her ... or maybe it was just a draft as she pushed the thought of the Dullichan down again.