He'd been there for nearly a week, and nothing untoward had happened. It was beginning to look like he'd followed another dead end trail. Nearly a week of fruitlessly wandering the woodland trails at all hours of the day or night and nothing. No clue as to what had happened to all those who had disappeared without a trace. No mysterious sounds or markings on the trees, nothing. The only thing even remotely interesting had been the ruined henge atop a bare hillock inexplicably located in the middle of the woods. He'd found it this afternoon, but it had been obvious from the thick overgrowth on the trail that no one had been near the clearing or the ruins in years. The last of the twenty verifiable recorded disappearances had been only a month previous. The curious thing about it was that when he had mentioned it to the normally friendly and ebullient little innkeeper, that worthy had suddenly developed a pressing need to be elsewhere. The same thing had happened with the two boisterous local lads that he'd had a drink with in the tavern after supper. Shaking his head, David opened the window a crack, then ground his cigarette out in the chipped glass ashtray. Stripping down to his shorts, he crawled into bed. He would give it the rest of the weekend he thought tiredly, then on Monday he would begin again somewhere else.

As usual, even at the brink of exhaustion he couldn't sleep. Ever since he lost Meredith two years earlier, it had been that way. He'd be nearly asleep on his feet, and the moment he lay down his thoughts would be filled with her. Sometimes, he could almost feel her next to him, holding him, comforting him. Sometimes, in his darker moments, he heard her calling him. Pleading for forgiveness and understanding, begging for peace. As if. It had been this that cost him his job in the end. Sleepless, unable to concentrate, he had made a near fatal error in a set of blueprints. Oh, they hadn't actually fired him. Not that. Merely put him down as being on an extended leave of absence. Without pay. Insult to injury. Screw 'em. Between the circumstances of Meredith's death, and his ruined career, David was pretty much washed up. The knowledge that his cherished wife had died of an aneurysm while making love to another man had left him with a near fatal inability to forget. Or forgive for that matter.

In a wild endeavor to forget and move on, David had begun to read avidly. His imagination was captured by the stories of Roanoke and the Bermuda Triangle disappearances. Progressing from that point, he discovered that similar types of stories came from all parts of the world. Almost obsessively, he began to track them. He was astounded to find that people still disappeared without a trace from various parts of the globe on a regular basis. There was a myriad of theories about the causes. Alien abductions, he discarded out of hand. The thought that an advanced alien race would have nothing better to do than subject humanity to anal probes and the like was simply asinine. A bizarre fantasy conjured by degenerate morons with over-active imaginations. David found the theories of portals to other realms to be much more palatable. So much so, that he had begun trying to find one. He told himself it was merely to find positive proof, but in the back of his mind the possibility of leaving this world for a better one glittered and turned like a far off beacon. There would be the forgetfulness he sought. There, he told himself often, there would be no more memories of Meredith. He could finally be at peace with himself and with the past.

Snared in his ever-circling thoughts, David tossed and turned restlessly on the lumpy bed until well after two. Finally, at long last, his fatigue won out over his mind and sleep overcame him. It didn't last long. He had just barely descended into the welcome oblivion of slumber, when an eerie melody came wafting through the open window. The clock said 3:15 in bright red. Annoyed, he groped around for his jeans and then struggled into them. Crossing the room, he threw the window open wide. Maybe he could figure out where the noise was coming from. Fully awake by this time, David shivered slightly in the cool, damp air. Odd. It seemed to be coming from the forest. A low, throaty woman's voice crooning without accompaniment. Intrigued despite his earlier annoyance, he shrugged his shirtless torso into his leather bike jacket and picked up his heavy riding boots. Slipping quietly out of his room, he tiptoed down to the outer door of the room. After jamming his bare feet into his cold boots, David eased silently into the enveloping velvet darkness of the night.

Almost immediately, he realized he could hear the voice more clearly now. He still couldn't make out any words, but the tune was clear and entrancing. It was coming from the direction he had traveled that morning. Perhaps even from the odd little clearing he had found. Mesmerized by the haunting melody, David walked unerringly through the darkness. So captivated was he, he was totally oblivious to his surroundings. It never even occurred to him to wonder why the path through the underbrush was so much easier to follow than it had been earlier. Had he looked behind him, he would have seen all traces of his passage disappear as if by magic. He would not have cared. His entire being was focused on finding the source of that miraculous voice. The closer it got, the more it sounded familiar. Almost if it was someone he knew, someone he loved. Entranced, he followed it blindly, willingly losing himself in it.

At last, he came to the clearing. Bathed in moonlight, a woman stood in the center of the standing stones. Arms upraised towards the full moon, she was clad only in a gown of some diaphanous white material. It floated about her like a cloud, her naked shape clearly delineated by the brightness of the light. David's breath caught in his throat as she turned and beckoned him towards her with one slim, supple hand. Mesmerized, he watched as her long hair rose up to frame her face in slowly writhing tendrils. Something about this vision jarred him slightly, and he faltered in his move towards her. In the one small corner of his mind still capable of rational thought, David wondered fleetingly what he was doing out in the woods alone and unprotected.

Frowning slightly, the woman increased the tempo of her song slightly. As the music wrapped itself around him once more, David lost all semblance of control. The tune moved him, pulling him inexorably towards her. Seductive, sensual, all encompassing, it threaded through his thoughts, stroking him simultaneously into submission and arousal. He was alive with desire, as he had not been since Meredith's death. Completely ensorcelled, he reached out and took her hand firmly in his. He never even flinched as her hair slithered in silken strands across his arms, stinging him. The tune built to a feverish pitch, swelling, bringing him relentlessly to the verge of rapture. As she lowered her face to his, he saw her features clearly for the first time. Immediately, the spell woven by her music broke. Pale and preternaturally beautiful, she was not even remotely human. The merest hint of sharp white fangs protruded from between blood red lips, and her eyes were a hypnotic, glowing amber color. Her hair moved with a life of its own, almost serpentine in appearance. He would have run then if he had been able to.

Frozen stone-still by the venom of her snake-like hair, he couldn't move as her lips descended on his. The kiss was deep and passionate, stirring something dark and hidden within him. He stood like a statue, struggling fruitlessly to flee or scream, as she stroked him with her lithe soft fingers and trailed burning kisses down the side of his bare neck. He was so stricken with terror that he didn't even feel her fangs sink deep into his throat, tearing it wide. Blood spilling from his open throat, David realized in horror that he had found his oblivion only in death.

M.C. Sak (c) 12/20/98