Wild Fiction

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‘It isn’t if it’s used properly but because it’s such a powerful electromagnet it can destroy any magnetic media that’s too close to it when it’s switched on. VCR tapes, cassettes, floppy disks, computers - it’ll wipe them clean of anything that’s on them. I should get rid of it.’
18
The author wrote furiously. The pencil flew across the paper leaving word after word in its wake. Rebecca leant against the bookshelf watching him. She pushed herself into an upright position and stretched her arms above her head. There was a crash of glass as Rebecca fell forward knocking over a small glass topped table. Miracle, who was still toying with the unfortunate ladybird, lost her concentration and fell out of the window. At the sound of the smashing glass the author jumped up, knocking over his chair. His immediate concern was for Rebecca who was lying on the floor. When he noticed what had caused Rebecca to fall forward his attention refocused. The bookshelves, previously fixed into the wall had rotated open, like a turnstile, knocking her forward and revealing a hole in the wall. Books had been scattered everywhere and a pile of paperbacks, which mostly had the name of Wilbur Smith on the spine, half-buried Rebecca. The author crossed the book-strewn floor until he was standing between the gaping hole and Rebecca. He stared into the darkness behind the shelves. There was a damp musty smell emanating from the blackness. The author thought he could hear the scurrying of rats but was not sure if he had not just added that for dramatic affect.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked turning around and picking books off her.
‘I think so,’ she propped herself up onto her elbows. He stretched out an arm and helped her up. There was a small cut, barely more than a scratch, just above her eyebrow. The blood had already congealed in the hairs of her eyebrow and was not running. She placed her hand to her forehead and at the sight of the blood on her fingertips she swayed. The author grabbed her and she wrapped her arms around him as a faint wave passed over her. The author liked this very much. He could feel her tight, early twenties, pre-cellulite firm breasted body pressed hard against him. He ran his fingers down her spine and over her callipygous bottom as she hung on to him. He had no qualms about taking full advantage of this situation while it lasted. He knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere and would have to move the story line on from here.
Or would he?
This is what he had created her for. She was here for his carnal gratification. Now was the perfect time.

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