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Finish The Story Contest - WEEK #25

In the eyes of the couple, the slate-paved street of the village revealed a cornucopia of crafts, sweets and jubilant peasants. Along the noisy main street, colourful festoons hung from the balconies of typical mountain houses, made of solid stone and original woodwork. The buildings themselves, due to the abundance of decorations, seemed to curve over the long snake of stalls.

There had been an imperceptible moment of silence when the two had laid their feet on the dark pavement of the village, nothing but a quick counterpoint to underline the next wave of noise of the festival in its full becoming.
It had been enough to turn left on the path between the conifers marked by the navigator and their journey had moulted with grey scales now transformed into coloured harlequin’s diamonds.

"Fasnachat". That bizarre writing on a shaky sign had tickled their imagination.

"If Google had reported this village party we could have left two hours earlier." At her voice’s sound, Ben instinctively thought of two Dolce & Gabbana sneakers on the 100 meters starting blocks.

"A break cannot hurt us, but let's not forget about our timetable," he replied, not without a trail of scepticism in his voice.

Ben's senses captured fragrances, widened eyes and inebriated laughter. That joy was as disruptive as it was contagious.

"We do not need to remind ourselves of what it means being late for Grandma Maude's birthday dinner," he said, turning to his wife, whose hand was already wriggling from his, ready to compulsively stuff the car with the many bits and bobs offered by the fair.

Debated between the growing curiosity and the thought of his father-in-law blaming him for the delay, Ben had not even noticed that he had already lost sight of Joelle.

Like a pebble escaping the river’s current, the flow of the crowd had carried him in the middle of a small square dominated by a soaring wooden stage. An acute, strangely cacophonous, chant of stringed instruments enlivened a typical traditional group dance, where couples slapped each other’s feet and bodies.

Under the ever more pounding rhythm of the dance, among almost hypnotized and swaying villagers, his eyes increasingly focused on the show.

For a moment, he thought he saw Joelle surrounded by villagers who invited her to eat something viscidly black. The substance seemed to smear the white aprons and faces of the women, perhaps even that of Joelle who had joined them in a wild chortle. She seemed so lighthearted and it felt good. There was one thing Ben could not remember and squatted in the back of his head, but maybe it wasn’t that important.

He returned to plunge into the dance: it was simply wonderful. He felt he could not miss a movement, not even a note. He smiled at the villagers as a strange heat flared up inside him. An empty and collective smile painted back on the villagers’ gaunt faces.

In a frayed embryo of thought, Ben recorded the distant verses of Joelle, who, strangely, had fused together in a long animal bleating.

Now my ending ...

Suddenly, at the end of a long and deep shrill scream that seemed to burst Ben's ears, the night fell; a night without stars or moon ... every trace of light had extinguished except the light emanating from some rudimentary torches in the small town square. The faces of the villagers looked deformed, like a mask of flesh of multiple shapes and colors, the eye sockets were very dark as they did not have pupils ... but always the smile there ... more like a grimace ... and breathing very strong ...

Ben noticed three men carrying Joelle to the stage and laid her on what looked like an altar covered by a satin purple tablecloth. A tall man, a kind of priest completely covered by a black cassock that included his face; gave Joelle more of that slimy substance to eat until she was relaxed and pleased … he undressed her softly and began to rub her body with an oil spreading a range of intense aromas. Gently but firmly rubbed Joelle's body from her chest to her naked pelvis, leaving no-space without cover, while she contorted heatedly.

Meanwhile, Ben was pushed by the people up to the stage and near the altar. That internal flame covered again his whole body but in a hardly bearable way, he barely noticed Joelle was caressing him subtly, provocatively ... then he embraced and kissed her with a deep passion ... he was pressing her body against his chest with one arm, and with the other hand sought her neck to caress it ... Joelle was burning in pleasure until she felt she could not breathe ... she was suffocated ... Ben was strangling her...

When Joelle was about to lose consciousness, someone grabbed Ben's forearm and he immediately released her. Ben turned around and saw a diffuse figure covered with a red wine cloak that suddenly was wrapping him and Joelle in a white very bright mantle in order to protect them, however, and just before being completely covered, he could see that person was Grandma Maude.

Ben felt like his soul was leaving his body, but when he was about to vanish, he regained consciousness and manage rapidly to remove the blanket; then he could see that he was in a room at Grandma Maude's house, and Joelle was sleeping beside him, both without any trace of that black substance. Then he saw Grandma Maude standing near the door of the room looking at them with tenderness, and he could hear Joelle's father say as he left the room ... "these young people, what they just like is to drink without care and dance at strange places"; then Grandma Maude also prepared to leave, but not before first telling Ben ... "I hope you learned that curiosity killed the cat ... and next year I won't be there to protect you at Fasnacht; now wake up Joelle and get ready you both for dinner … "