A Haunting Image

A Haunting Image

Chapter 1

Zaria sat in the hard backed chair opposite her twin Zamara, knitting a scarf for their eldest brother Dackery. Zamara, her own sewing in her lap, stared at her sister’s deft fingers weaving the intricate designs perfectly into place. She looked down at her lap at her own laborious work and saw a complete mess. The images she had tried to create with thread were a blur and knots seemed to have formed out of nothing where there should have been no thread at all. A few wet dots hit the fabric, as beads of sweat slid down her face and dripped off her chin.
Zaria began to hum a merry little tune and Zamara frowned at her, how could she be so happy when it was so hot? Zamara pulled her hair back from her face into a loose ponytail and started to pick up her work again but abruptly threw it down onto the dirt floor. She rolled up her pant legs and stood up, as Zaria looked up from her masterpiece with an angry questioning look.
“I am going to take Nickoli for a swim Zar, it is…”
“You are going for a swim? When there is so much to do here, mother needs us to…” said Zaria, but she was interrupted.
“Yes I am going for a swim, it is too hot to work, besides I hate sowing.”
“Well at least pick up your mess from the floor, you should not waste what father gives us to work with, it is hard for him to come by.”
“Come on Zar, it is a waste giving it to me anyway, it just ends up looking like something a blind grandfather would do if he had to sow. You should be the only one to sow anything…”
“Oh, you mean like I’m the only one who cooks or cleans or…”
“Stop, sis, you are good at those things, and I am not, why do you think father always asks your opinion over me what with mother gone?”
“…I guess you are right,” said Zaria standing and pulling up the edge of her skirt so she would not get it caught under her foot, “go on Nickoli could use a swim, the boy has been itching to go outside and play all day, he deserves a break from cleaning the root cellar out. I will come get you when dinner is ready.” Before the last words were out of her mouth Zamara was out of the room and sprinting down the steps of the root cellar.
“Nick!” Zamara looked around saw no trace of her little brother, there was only few empty barrels in the corner. Nickoli had done quite well; he was almost finished. Zamara strode over to the barrels and just as she was about to look into them, her rascally little brother popped his head out and said, “Boo!” Zamara had fully expected this and she grabbed him up as he jumped at her. She playfully fell back and they wrestled on the dirt floor until she had him pinned beneath her.
“Zammy let me up, come on, whadayawant?”
Zamara leaned back on her heals and put her hands on her hips, “Oh, nothing I was just wandering if you wanted to go…” she began to tickle her little brother mercilessly as his hands were pinned, “…swimming?”
Between the laughing and the watering eyes Nickoli got out a reply, “Ye…Ye…stop it…Yes!”
Zamara abruptly stopped torturing him and said, “Last one to the pond is a rotten egg!” She jumped up off of him and made for the cellar stairs. As she ran she threw the doors shut behind her and she heard Nickoli yell, “Hey!” Laughing she rushed on leaping over a shallow hole that Dackery was starting to build for a well, and vaulting the crooked wooden fence that her father always meant to fix. She found herself cutting through the field of corn, running at full speed until a stitch in her side made her slow to a walk. A rustling of corn stalks came nearer and nearer, and she looked to the side to see her little brother burst by her, his short legs pumping vigorously. A new burst of adrenaline prompted Zamara to continue her sprint and she soon caught up to her brother and passed him. They were coming out into the open field then and the pond was only scant steps away.
Laughing Zamara ran and jumped onto the rope swing and swung out into the middle of the pond where she let go. Nickoli watched as his sister disappeared under the muddy surface, and then repeated her tactic as she surfaced. He hit the water near her and splashed her, as if to get her back for the tickle trap. Zamara treaded water waiting for him to come back up; when his head bobbed to the surface she jumped on him and dunked him and herself, laughing the whole while.
Nickoli came back up sputtering and coughing. He rubbed his eye and blinked blurrily at his sister. “Don’t mess with the big dogs,” she said to him, “you might just get dipped for your trouble!” She laughed and he smiled, knowing one day she would be the puppy. He turned around again for another go on the rope swing. His eyes were still blurry from the water and he saw a man standing by the tree with a large brown hat pulled down over his face. It was similar to what Dackery wore.
“Hey it is Dack!” he said hurriedly swimming for the shore.
“That’s nice,” said Zamara as she floated on her back eyes closed. She heard splashing and was afraid that Dackery was coming to dunk her. She quickly opened her eyes and got in a defensible position. It was then she saw the man Nickoli thought was their brother.
“Nick, no! That isn’t Dack!” She swam for the shore just as the man with the hat grabbed her little brother by the throat and raised him into the air. Zamara stood motionless on the bank of the pond as she watched the stranger slam Nickoli’s head into the tree three times until his skull was caved-in.
The man looked over at Zamara and shrugged as he smirked saying, “I don’t want any witesses.”
Her mouth open, Zamara could not move as the murderer advanced on her with a lude smile. The stranger grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her to the ground. He followed and straddled her, pinning her arms beneath his knees. Ripping wet shirt off with one hand he unlace his pants with the other. It was then that Zamara started to fight. She twisted this way and that, trying to free herself. The man launched two hard slaps in rapid succession across her face and tears welled in her eyes. The rapist took Zamara’s hands from under his knees and clamped onto them both with his left hand. He pulled out a knife and cut Zamara’s pants off her hips, quickly sliding them off her as he held both of her hands above her head.
“Please no, please, don’t do this to me.” The man smiled evilly and slid his own pants down as Zamara clamped her legs shut. “My brother Dackery and my father will be around to check on me, and they will make you pay if you don’t stop,” her voice quavered in fear.
The absurdity of that remark hit the rapist comically, and he said with a smirk, “Then I will kill them as I did that little cretin over there,” he nodded in the direction of Nickoli. The man looked into her scared eyes and smiled, loving the spirit of fear Zamara was emanating. Still holding her hands above her head he traced the center of her bare breast with his forefinger. He circled her left nipple and pinched the soft pink skin point, then cupped her perfectly round breast.
The murderer bent his head down into her ear and whispered, “Scream, beauty, I want to hear you scream.”
“Noooo!” shouted Zaria as she came running toward the two of them.
The man turned around in a snarl, waiting for her to get close. Zaria slowed knowing she could do nothing to help her sister but knowing also that she had to try. She rushed the man who still straddled her twin, and he, with a massive backhanded swing sent her flying. The force of his blow threw her into the trunk of the tree, her head slammed the trunk and she slid down to join her baby brother on the ground. Zamara saw a trickle of blood swell at the corner of Zaria’s mouth and that gave her the little strength she had left to struggle even harder. She managed to get one hand free and scratched the side of her attackers face.
The stranger, after getting her arm back under control, wiped his cheek with his hand and it came away wet. “Bitch!” he said and slapped her again. Tears were renewed in Zamara’s eyes: tears for her brother, tears for her sister and tears for herself. The man replaced his hand on Zamara’s left breast and looked at her with a half smile expectantly. She would not scream she told herself; she would not give this murderer the satisfaction.
“If you won’t scream for me, I will make you scream!” He violently shoved his hand between her legs and forced them apart holding them open with his knees. Zamara’s mouth opened in a silent scream and the man’s head went back with his eyes closed and he shuddered. He opened his eyes and looked down at Zamara, “That’s what I wanted,” he said. Then he grabbed her lower back and pulled her towards him. In he plunged, pushing deeper and harder, and tearing skin. Zamara’s mute scream became a high-pitched wale and then a deep moan, as the stranger pulled himself out of her.
“You must want more, you bitches all scream when you want more…” Zamara’s hands were slack and her legs weren’t moving. A vacant expression was on her face as the rapist let loose her hands. With both his wire strong hands he gripped both sides of her waist and with a savage push he lunged inside her again, throwing all his weight into his drive. He moved it in and out and each time Zamara moaned, he went harder and deeper. Her virginal blood leaked out in great gushes as each rapid thrust tore more tissue.
When he finally removed himself from inside her, Zamara’s face was gray and her eyes stared at nothing. He rolled over and pulled his pants up as he stared down at the perfect beauty he had just ravished. A malicious glint came into his eyes and he smiled as he kneeled down next to the girl.
“You were great love, you really were…best I ever had, the strong ones are always the best, not like that one over there. I’ve been watching you two for quite some time, and I knew I had to have you.” Zamara’s eyes focused in on the stranger’s face with pain in herself and hate for him.
“Ah, love don’t look at me that way,” he said tauntingly, “If you mess with a big dog, you will get hurt...ahh now isn't that familiar? Don't worry love your pain will soon be ended.” He pulled his knife out again and Zamara did not even try to stop him from cutting her throat. The murderer stood up as Zamara gurgled her last breath away, and started to the tree where he had left his purple silk cloak. He flung it around his shoulders and started away.
Zaria opened her eyes and saw an emblem on the man’s back that would forever haunt her dreams: a golden dagger and sword crossed in an X, and then she knew no more.