August MacGregor

Celebrating Sensuality. Intended for mature audiences, 18 and over

You’re Next


In getting into the Halloween spirit, I wrote a horror story. It’s a bit different than what I usually write, and it was nice to stretch my writing muscles. There’s a little bit of sex in there, so this is really meant for readers 18 years and older only.

Even though Evina knew it was a dream, her heart pounded from fear. There seemed to be no way out of the house.

It wasn’t a stereotypical haunted house from the movies, with cobwebs in every corner and stretched across dusty furniture. But it was a huge mansion that had seen better days. Discolored wallpaper in the hallway was peeling off the wall in spots, and there was a general sense of old age.

That was coupled with the general sense of dread within her. As far as she knew, there was nothing chasing her. And there were no screams of someone in pain coming from behind the many closed doors. Instead, there was the sound of a piano playing, a slow song that had a simple, sad melody. One that Evina couldn’t place.

Rather than having an obvious cause for her fear, she felt a foreboding of something about to happen. Because of that, she didn’t want to open any of the doors in the hallway. But her hand still reached out for an elegant bronze doorknob. She couldn’t stop her hand. It was as if a part of her wanted to get it over with, see what the dread was all about.

The door opened to a large, rectangular dining room. Dark wood panels on the walls, with tall windows across from her. Three chandeliers, their crystals glinting in moonlight, hung over the long dining room table on which rested two lit candles.

After Evina’s eyes swiftly scanned the room, they raced to the people on the table. Two people were having sex. A naked man stood next the table, and he was bent so that his upper body lay on the woman who was on the table. Her luxurious red dress was bunched up at her waist and draped over the table. The man’s face was buried at the woman’s neck, on the other side of her head from Evina. She was mesmerized how the man’s clenched ass moved as he fucked the woman.

But then his ass stopped moving.

The man’s head raised. His torso slowly raised. His cock was still inside the woman, but now he stood straight up instead of being bent over. His body rippled with hard muscles.

He looked at Evina, frozen in the doorway. His eyes shone with a brightness stronger than the moonlight through the tall windows. His crimson lips smiled. They opened to show teeth that were far too big for his mouth. But somehow those gleaming spikes fit in there.

“Delicious,” he said, drawing out the word with an Eastern European accent.

Evina only stared, her breath caught tight in her lungs.

“You’re next,” the man said with a wide smile, those spike teeth glistening. A drop of saliva fell off his chin.

The woman on the table turned her head to look at Evina. Her face was empty of all emotion, like it was a blank husk of a shell.

Something sparked within Evina, a reaction to the man’s words and the woman’s face, and she ran. Ran as fast as she could, her breath now churning like a galloping horse. The hallway was empty of doors now, possibly because the dining room was so large. She dearly hoped there wasn’t another door to the dining room, where the man could’ve run to and would be waiting for her.

Thankfully, there wasn’t another door to the dining room. Instead, a staircase — and she sped up the steps until she reached the upper floor. Evina was faced with another hallway, and she opened the first door.

Another large room, wood paneled. A woman knelt in prayer, her hair so long that it flowed onto the floor behind her. She was bathed in purple light emanating from a tall stained glass window, whose broken-glass mosaic depicted a castle on top of a wooded hill, the sky set in many shades of violet.

“Get up!” Evina yelled at the praying woman.. “We have to go! He’s coming!”

The woman’s head slowly turned to face Evina. Just like how the woman on the dining room table had done.

“Why?” she asked in a calm voice. “He said you’re next.”

Dread dropped to the bottom of Evina’s stomach, and that self-preservation sparked within her again. Once more, she ran and flung open the next door, across the hallway.

A library. Empty of people. A relief. She rushed into the library and slammed the door behind her.

The doorknob didn’t have a lock. There was nothing stopping the spike-toothed man from entering the room. Evina frantically looked for a possible hiding spot — somewhere she could tuck her body in case the man opened the door and looked about the room, but wouldn’t be able to see her.

But there was nothing. Just bookshelves all the way up to the ceiling and two leather armchairs flanking a floor lamp.

Something moved. Between two shelves. A stick coming out from behind the books on the shelf. Another stick. Hairy sticks.

Those weren’t sticks.

Evina screamed as more legs appeared, reaching out, knocking over books, sending them thudding to the floor. A brown spider emerged, out of one of the books, and it somehow kept increasing in size as it climbed out of the pages of the book.

Evina flung open the door and rushed out. The naked man was at the beginning of the hallway, grinning at her. Blood now dripped from his chin. His cock was erect.

He said, “You look delicious.”

Again, she screamed. Again, she turned and ran. Down the hallway, rushing past closed doors. The soft piano music seemed to mock her, as if it was trying to calm her down. But there was no calming her down. Not with her heart and breath pounding in a fury.

At the end of the hallway was another staircase. Leading up. God, how she wished it would lead down. Down, down, down, to where there had to be a door that opened to the outside, the world out of this maddening house.

She braved a look behind her. There, down the hallway, was the man walking toward her. And behind him was the spider, now enormous.

Up was the only way. She burst up the stairs, taking them two at a time, gripping the railing like it was a rope and she was crossing a bridge over a deep chasm. The stairs went up and up, not stopping for another floor and another hallway. Still, she did not slow down.

Finally, the stairs ended. Another door. Thankfully, not locked. The only other way was back down the stairs, so Evina opened the door, steeling herself for something scary inside.

An attic. Slanted ceilings of the mansion’s roof line. Old-fashioned steamer trunks and furniture everywhere, all of it covered with cobwebs. A window at each end of the attic let in moonlight. Nobody was there.

She closed the door and was grateful to see a lock on the doorknob. Anything to slow down the man and spider. She turned the lock on the knob and pushed a steamer trunk across the floor to settle behind the door. Then another trunk on top of that one.

Evina was sliding a third trunk toward the door when a loud thud jolted the door. She jumped back, not wanting to go any closer to the door with the extra trunk. Another violent thud against the door, this one louder, more powerful. The floor shook in the impact. Evina scampered across the attic, hiding behind a stack of crates.

The door broke with the third hit. The two steamer trunks were shoved aside. It had been a good idea, but not very effective.

Peering through gaps in the crates, Evina could see the naked, spike-toothed man appear and look about the attic. His smile seemed permanent, the smile of a lunatic who found everything impossibly funny. The man walked toward her, and Evina couldn’t tell if he saw her or not. Next to her was a broken chair, and she picked up the leg. It felt solid in her hands. A weapon, but she wished she had a better one. A machine gun would’ve been nice.

“What did I tell you?” the man asked, his Eastern European accent heavy. “I told you that you’re next.”

Then the spider appeared in the doorway behind him, the long hairy legs reaching out. The man’s eyes opened wide in shock as the legs wrapped around him, embracing him in a deadly hug. But still, his smile was there as the spider’s mouth opened — a mouth closer to a shark’s mouth — and swallowed him. The sounds of the man’s bones crunching sickened Evina, as if the bones were mere twigs in the spiders powerful jaws.

The sounds were quickly over. And Evina knew her bones were about to be crunched next. Since the spider was surely going to find her hiding spot, she leapt up and threw the chair’s leg as hard as she could. It hit the spider’s body, causing it to slide back a few inches.

She threw everything she could grab. Other parts of the broken chair. A footstool. A tall mirror. A globe on a pedestal. Some of them missed the spider; some of them were on target, pushing the spider backward a little and causing it to give a high-pitched whine that Evina hoped was pain.

But the spider was not retreating. It was not slowing down. If anything, it seemed to be growing angrier every time something hit it. So Evina backed up, continuing to fling anything at it, in the desperate hope that her attacks would eventually kill it or cause it enough pain that it gave up chasing her.

Still, it continued on. And the attic ended. Only a wall with a moonlit window was left. Her hands heaved at the window, but it didn’t move. The spider kept coming. The window was the only way. She kicked at the glass two times, breaking it in crashes, sending shards raining down. The spider was closer, whining louder now, not from pain but from anticipation of killing the thing that had caused it pain.

Evina looked out the jagged window at the cloudless sky beyond and leapt. The teeth of the broken glass dug into her as she passed through.

Gasping, she sat upright. Bed. Her bed. Her bedroom. Her bureau. Gregory’s bureau. Gregory laying next to her. Stirring.

Her heart still thundered. It was a dream. She had known that. As real and vibrant as it had seemed, she had still known it was a dream. But, through all that had happened in the mansion, she was still scared witless.

“Are you okay?” Gregory asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“Bad dream,” she said simply.

She lay down and slid into his arms, with her back to him. As he embraced her, his forearms reminded her of the spider’s legs. She shivered, but settled further back against Gregory, loving the warmth of him. The security of him.



Author: augustmacgregor

I'm a writer of erotica and romantic fiction.

3 thoughts on “You’re Next

  1. I love that running theme — ‘you’re next’. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: National Novel Writing Month | August MacGregor

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s