Katherine's Prophecy Read online

  She also became aware of a slight dampness between her legs and for a moment thought she might have wet the bed. She sleepily brought her hand down to her crotch to feel her undies and was relieved to discover that they were dry. She hadn’t wet her bed in a long time and if Daddy ever found out that she had, she’d be in big trouble.

  This sobering thought made her become fully awake. Her senses sharpened and she was suddenly aware of the fact that she hadn’t been dreaming all of this. She was lying on her right side and could feel the weight of an arm pressed against her left side. A hand was poked in through the bottom of her pajama top and moving all over chest; squeezing and rubbing her small, swelled mounds. Behind her she heard someone breathing hard and could feel his hot breath blowing against the back of her neck, sending a cold chill down her spine. His breath smelled really bad— just like Daddy’s whenever he’d been out all night drinking with one of those ladies.

  Emily opened her eyes. The room was dark except for the faint red glow of her clock radio. The hand inched its way down her tummy and slid in under her pajama bottoms. The breathing suddenly grew harder and raspier. Petrified with fear, she could hear her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She tried to scream, but nothing would come out of her mouth.

  Suddenly, a finger went inside of her. Her scream pierced the dark silence like a knife. The finger quickly withdrew from her just as another hand came from behind and covered her mouth. She screamed again in absolute terror, but the sound was muffled by the huge hand. She felt the arm encircling her side tense up and press harder against her. She began flailing her legs under the covers in an effort to get away, but it did no good. The rest of her body was pinned down firmly by the huge, heavy arm, rendering her completely powerless.

  “Now, now honey—don’t be afraid. It’s only me,” she heard her father whisper into her ear from behind.

  Emily felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, honey. Daddy just wants to keep you company for a little while.”

  Her heart suddenly felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. Her father’s tone of voice was strange, frightening. She tried to scream again, but his hand stifled it.

  “Why are you screaming, my child? There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  Her father’s voice was soft and coaxing with a sort of singsong quality to it—like that of a parent persuading a baby to take its food. She was not a baby though, and the sound of his voice made her wince in mortal fear.

  “Will you do something for Daddy, dear? If I take my hand away from your mouth, will you promise me that you won’t scream? Can you do that for Daddy?”

  Trembling, Emily nodded her head.

  “Very good. Now you’ve promised me, don’t forget. Don’t you dare break your promise to your father or he’ll get very angry with you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  She nodded again.

  Slowly, he removed his hand from her face. Emily gasped for air.

  “Now, isn’t that better?” her father asked.

  Instead of answering, Emily nodded her head again. She was too terrified to do or say anything. Her instincts told her that her father might well kill her if she didn’t do as he said. Or if not that, beat her half to death.

  “I’m going to let go of you now. But only if you promise that you won’t try to run away from me. You promise?”

  Emily nodded.

  He slowly raised his arm and at the same time withdrew his hand from under her pj’s. She became aware of the excruciating pain in her side where his arm had been pinning her down against the mattress.

  “There, now. I’ll bet that feels a little more comfortable, doesn’t it?”

  Emily again nodded. Tears were streaming down her face.

  “Has the cat got your tongue, sweetheart? Why aren’t you speaking to me?”

  There was a long silence as Emily struggled to think of what to say. She merely shrugged her shoulders.

  “Don’t be afraid to speak to your Daddy. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said reassuringly.

  Silence.

  “Talk to me, girl!”

  Emily nearly jumped out of her skin. “Yes, Father!”

  His voice softened again. “That’s better. I’m sorry I snapped at you like that . . . Daddy was just getting a little aggravated, that’s all. You forgive me, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Good. Now I’d like you to do me a little favor, honey. I want you to just stay right where you are while I turn on the light here, okay?”

  “Okay, Father.”

  She felt the mattress shift as her father reached over and turned on the small bedside lamp on the other side of the bed. The sudden presence of light in the room made Emily squint her stinging, tear-soaked eyes.

  “There, now; that’s much better. Now turn around and let me take a look at you.”

  Emily felt confused and frightened. Her father’s voice had returned to its singsong tone and she had a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. Slowly, she turned over on her back. Then she looked over at her father . . .

  He was naked!

  Before she could say anything, he grasped her shoulders with both hands and said, “You look surprised, sweetheart! You’d think that you’ve never seen a naked man before. But I know better than that. I know what you and your little girlfriends at school do when the teachers aren’t around to keep an eye on you. You sneak out and meet up with boys, don’t you? Then you play little games with those boys, don’t you? I know what goes on in that filthy mind of yours!”

  “Daddy!” she screamed.

  “Shhhhh. Now you promised me—no screaming. If you do that one more time I’m going to have to spank you real hard. You hear me?” His eyes were wild and intimidating, in sharp contrast to his soft, singsong lilt.

  Emily panicked. She wanted to scream and run away. But she couldn’t. She knew she would have to do whatever her father wanted her to do. The look in his eyes told her that he’d do much more than just give her a spanking if she dared disobey him.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said weakly, her voice trembling.

  “That’s my girl. I sure am glad I sent Miss Cooper to her sister’s for the night or you would have awakened her by now. That wouldn’t have been very nice, now would it?”

  Emily’s heart sunk. In the back of her mind she’d assumed that Miss Cooper was in the house. Now she knew that she was all by herself now—with her drunk, crazy father.

  She shook her head slowly, feeling utterly helpless.

  “No, Miss Cooper wouldn’t have liked being awakened in the middle of the night one little bit. But we don’t have to worry about that, now . . . I’d like you to do a little something for Daddy, sweetheart. I’d like for you to take off your pajamas. Would you do that for your Daddy?”

  Emily felt her heart racing. She stared into her father’s bloodshot eyes in utter disbelief.

  “Why, Daddy?”

  “Because I want to take a look at you, that’s all. It’s not like I’ve never seen you before without your clothes on, now is it? Why, just last summer I helped bathe you practically every night, didn’t I?”

  “But that was different. I’ve . . . changed now, Daddy.” she protested.

  His quivering smile gave her goose bumps. “I know you have, dear, and that’s why I want to see you. I want to see how much my little girl’s changed these past few months while she’s been away at school.”

  Emily then did a noble but foolhardy thing. She continued staring into his eyes and said flatly, “No, Father.”

  In an instant, his hand struck her on the side of her face. “Now you mind your father, you little whore! Do as I say, before I get angry!”

  Her cheek was hot and felt like it was being stuck by a thousand needles all at once. She was facing away from him now; the blow to her face had spun her head around to the other side. Realizing that she had no choice but to comply with her father
’s command, Emily started pulling her pajama top up over her head, tears streaming down her face as she did so. She felt the cool air of the room rush against her bare skin and shivered violently as she held the crumpled-up pajama top to her chest.

  “I’ll take that,” her father said, grabbing the top from her and flinging it across the bed.

  Although she couldn’t see him now, Emily could feel her father’s eyes upon her, staring at her heaving, exposed breasts. She felt ashamed and embarrassed as he sat there beside her in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually she became aware of his breathing as it became heavier and subsequently turned into a raspy, uneven panting.

  “How old are you now, sweetheart?” he panted in the singsong voice.

  “Eleven,” she replied distantly.

  “You’ve come along very nicely; hell, you’re damn near a young woman now! Those are real sweet little buds you have there.”

  With that, he reached over and gently pinched a nipple, sending an icy cold chill down her spine. Emily shuddered to herself and continued staring at an imaginary space on the wall. Fear and humiliation took over as she began sobbing softly. She heard her father’s breath coming in short gasps.

  His hand traveled slowly across her chest and cupped her right breast; then began squeezing it rhythmically. Emily could feel the bed rocking slightly as he started doing something else with his other hand on the other side of the bed. What, she didn’t know.

  “Now the bottoms, honey.” he commanded, his voice strange and guttural.

  Something in her suddenly snapped.

  “No!” she screamed.

  She jumped from the bed in a flash.

  But there was a huge, gaping hole in the floor beside the bed. Before she could stop herself, she fell through the hole and into pitch black darkness. She started flailing her arms wildly in space as she plummeted faster and faster into a black void. The air was frigid at first then became warmer the further she fell. Suddenly, in a matter of seconds, the air turned blazing hot—like a blast furnace.

  Then, in slow motion, she fell flat on her back. She could see now. She was in the center of what seemed to be an enormous cave illuminated in the yellow-orange glow of fire. Huge flames encircled the cave along the walls and licked the ceiling in irregular, surging blasts.

  The cave appeared to be empty for as far as she could see. In a few moments, she became aware of voices echoing off the walls; but she couldn’t tell where they were coming from. The voices were chanting something and there seemed to be a lot of them; both male and female. It sort of sounded like a church choir singing off-key.

  Emily glanced down at herself and gasped in horror. She was naked and lying spread-eagle on a stone platform; her arms and legs bound to the corners of the platform by heavy iron chains. She tried to free herself by pulling against the chains but they wouldn’t budge more than an inch. In a sudden wave of panic, she realized that she was being held captive. By someone . . .

  Beads of sweat rolled into her eyes, stinging them. The cave seemed to be getting hotter the longer she lay there. In a horrifying instant, it suddenly occurred to her that she was being roasted alive! Panic-stricken at this imminent prospect, Emily started twisting and squirming wildly in an effort to escape.

  But the chains wouldn’t give.

  Sweat poured off her body, forming little pools all around her on the stone platform. She screamed frantically as she tried to free herself from the chains. Blood oozed out of her wrists and ankles where the chains dug into her flesh.

  The chanting seemed to be getting louder. She lay there in silence, trying to determine where it was coming from then realized that it was emanating from behind a wall of flames and getting closer.

  Just then, she saw a black figure emerging from the flames. A man, wearing a black suit. An old style of suit similar to those worn around the turn of the century. He looked vaguely familiar but was too far away for her to clearly make out his features.

  The man was holding a big black book in his hands. The book was opened and he appeared to be reading from it; chanting the words out loud. The words were unintelligible; perhaps a foreign language.

  He strode slowly toward her and she saw another figure emerging from the flames behind him. Then another. And another. They formed a single line behind the man in black as if in a funeral procession. When they were close enough for her to see clearly, Emily let out a gasp.

  There were freaks and mutants of all sizes and shapes. A man with two heads. A woman with two short stubs instead of arms. A hunchback, his face gargoyle-like. And a young girl, around eleven or twelve, who had no face at all—just drawn white skin void of any features.

  Emily tried to look away from this parading freak show but discovered that she couldn’t. She was forced to watch each and every hideous entity one by one as it came into view.

  After a dozen or so had come through the wall of flames, no more appeared. The procession was twenty yards away and Emily again stared at the man who was leading them. He looked familiar for certain—she’d seen his face before somewhere—a picture, a portrait . . .

  He continued coming closer. Suddenly, she recognized who it was. It was her great-grandfather, John Hoffman! She’d seen his portrait somewhere at her grandfather’s house. He was still reading from the book he held in front of him, chanting, never looking up.

  Emily’s heart pounded in her chest. Her great-grandfather was now no more than ten yards away from the stone platform. She kept staring at his face, trying as hard as she could to avoid looking at the others.

  He was five yards away now. He began walking around the platform, beginning at the end where her head lay. The others followed closely behind. He continued encircling her until he reached the other end then stopped abruptly, directly at her feet.

  John Hoffman continued reading from the black book. Emily could see out of the corner of her eye that the procession had formed a circle around her and that she was now completely surrounded by them. She quickly glanced around and saw that they were all staring at her in a way that made her skin crawl. They wore grotesque grins on their hideous faces—those who had faces, that is—and they were gawking lustfully at her various body parts.

  Emily started screaming again and pulled against the chains in a renewed state of horror, wincing in pain from the fresh wounds on her ankles and wrists.

  Her great-grandfather ceased reading. Emily fell silent. He looked up from the book and into her eyes—

  His eyes were bone-white. He had no pupils!

  Emily nearly passed out.

  He spoke. “These eyes are blind, but they still can see. And now they see a woman-child before them. The by-product of long ago acts of lust, this child must be sacrificed to atone for those acts performed generations ago. The circle cannot be broken.”

  He shut the book and handed it over to the faceless girl standing beside him. He then mounted the platform and began scooting toward her—between her spread legs. Emily struggled and screamed futilely as he leaned over her, supporting himself by placing his hands on either side of her head. He brought his face down between her sweat-covered breasts and began licking the sweat from her, moving all over her chest with his long tongue lapping like a thirsty dog standing over a water puddle. There was a sadistic grin on his leathery face.

  Then she felt hands moving all over her body as the freaks joined in—pinching, squeezing, and prodding her soft white skin. All except for the faceless girl, who merely stood and stared at her. Emily closed her eyes tightly and cried uncontrollably.

  “Enough!” a voice commanded from somewhere to her left.

  Immediately, everyone ceased whatever they were doing and peered over in the direction of the voice.

  Emily opened her eyes.

  A figure was standing near the wall of flames. He walked over toward her at a brisk pace. As Emily tried to make out the features of the newcomer, her great-grandfather snickered and proceeded to climb off the platform. He then l
umbered away in the opposite direction from the approaching figure.

  Emily squinted her eyes as the figure approached. It was her father, naked, with long horns and a tail. His eyes were red, glowing orbs. He carried a long pitchfork in his left claw-like hand. His face was contorted in a hideous expression of murderous rage.

  It was the face of Satan, and he had caught her!

  “She is mine!” her father bellowed, glaring at the circle of freaks. “Leave us this instant!”

  With expressions of mortal fear on their faces, they all fled in the same direction her great-grandfather had gone. All except the faceless girl, who remained at the foot of the platform.

  Her father stood at her feet and glared at her defiantly, seemingly oblivious to the faceless girl.

  “You thought you could escape from me, didn’t you, you little whore!” he roared.

  Emily was paralyzed and unable to speak. Her father’s eyes were fixed upon hers as he stared maniacally across the length of the platform.

  “You shouldn’t have run away from me. You’ve made Daddy very, very angry now.”

  Emily’s eyes couldn’t evade his. Horror gripped her. She was going to die.

  “Now you must pay for disobeying me.” her father declared, his voice lowered. “I’m going to fuck you.”

  He set the pitchfork down and hopped up onto the platform. In an instant he was on top of her. His skin was hot and leathery against hers and his weight nearly crushed her to death.

  Her father’s face was directly in front of hers. His eyes had now become the familiar deep shade of blue. His expression was a twisted sneer of lust and rage.

  “You shall be the mother of out idiot child!” he howled, thrusting himself into her.

  “No, Daddy!” Emily screamed, feeling as though a red-hot poker had been rammed into her. The pain and burning between her legs was so intense that she nearly lost consciousness as she struggled in vain to push him off of her. With each thrust, she let out a shrill scream that echoed off the walls of the blazing hot cave. She looked down at herself in horror. Blood was pouring out of her and flowing everywhere in steady streams of crimson.