Aberration by Michael Thomas-Knight
I love the dead .
Their cooling flesh , pale blue tone , and relaxed muscles produce an exquisite experience within my fingers .
I own the only funeral parlor and cemetery in town . When I see women on the street to whom I am attracted , I know one day they will be mine . I can barely keep my hands off the women that I prepare for burial . So serene , so quiet , I almost wish to be buried alongside them in the same casket .
Don ’ t assume the worst . I do nothing so vile like sexual contact , God , no . I merely indulge my lustful sins in thought and dream . I have a photographic memory . Each woman that comes through my place of business I find attractive for different reasons .
Some have perfect ankles , others long smooth fingers . Silky sunken cheeks pulled taut against the bone , bloodless lips drained to dull purple , long lashes stiff with post-mortem framing sightless eyes . Plump derriere , cool blue in the shining moonlight , rounded breasts , firm with desiccation . Boney arms with skinny wrists , flesh stretched to its limits over a tranquil ribcage . My mind records different enticing parts of all these lifeless husks , and when I sleep , it reassembles them into an amalgam of fine quality body parts . It comes alive in my dream .
I luxuriate in my creation , the ultimate fantasy with many legs and arms , a dozen breasts of varied sizes , a face with a multitude of lips , cheekbones mounted atop cheekbones and a plethora of hair colors and styles to run my dream fingers and hands through .
My dream has been the same since its inception some twenty years ago . I steal into the funeral home after hours and head downstairs to the prep-room . At the back of the room is a door
that does not exist in the real world . I enter and lock the door behind me . I rush into the many arms of my waiting love , ever changing and mutating as she smothers me with a thousand kisses . Dozens of hands grab , grope and caress my body in all places .
However , last night ’ s dream proved to be an aberration . I ran into the depth of the room but my love was nowhere in sight . I heard a dozen footfalls behind me and turned to see her step out from hiding behind the door . She threw me a scornful glance and darted from the room . I gave chase through the parlor but could not keep up with the speed of so many legs . She burst through the back door and disappeared into the depths of the cemetery .
I awoke with a start from the dream , my heart pounding furiously in my chest . I retained a foreboding through the night , waking often from dreamless periods of inadequate sleep . The next day I could not concentrate on work . I had seen signs of my creation during the daylight hours , subtle movement in the brush along the edges of the grounds and flashes of movement between the stone structures of mausoleum row . Somehow , she had escaped my dream and began wandering about the property unfettered . Night fell upon the cemetery grounds and I was in eminent danger .
My creation did not like being locked up . Now that she was loose , she would not let me fall asleep and put her back into that dream-world room . The only way to stay free was to never let me dream again . I waited in the empty viewing room with bated breath and jittery nerves , twisting my head to every sound ; a bark of a distant dog , the whipping wind of the coming storm .
Rain fell in sweeping torrents and lightning cracked the sky with thunderous protest . A lightning flash lit up the far wall of