The Midnight Chime

An erotic tale of horror 




Scarce an hour before midnight

On a night close with summer heat,

I found an unknown companion                 

Awaiting bare atop my sheets.


While I had never met him

Nor invited to my bed,

What his gaze did not make welcome

His dark beauty did instead.


Uncertain but desirous,

I approached the bed with care,

Then stroked my hand across his skin

And through his silken hair.


He seemed far more than willing

Though strangely glancing at the clock;

I saw no harm in just proceeding

For my resolve was hard as rock.


I removed my evening clothing

Without looking from his face;

Now bare, I lay beside him

And eased into his embrace.


I was entire enchanted,

Though unwilling to command;

So he smiled gently up at me

Then reached out with his hand.


He encased all my attention

In hands as hot as flame;

I arched my back in anguish,

In pleasure, called Gods name.


My heart was like a rabbit

Beating frantic in my chest;

As he caressed my courage,

I was the one possessed.


I resisted first entreaty

But scarce managed to delay

The urge to immolation

That no patience can defray.


He wrapped his legs around me

And offered up respite,

Sweating, I soon sheathed my sword

In a baldrick hot and tight.


As I thrust inside the furnace

And stared wild into his eyes,

I was his captured servant

With all that that implies.


I leant down to kiss the lips

That parted to take my tongue;

His flesh, a treat of muscled silk,

So handsome, strong and young.


I closed my eyes and, groaning,

Rushed up helpless to the peak;

Would have, again, cried out to God

Could I use my throat to speak.


I battered at his porches,

A mindless animal in heat;

My need was overwhelming

And allowed me no retreat.


At last, I reached crescendo

With a sound more scream than groan,

And collapsed upon him, gasping,

Shorn of all the strength I own.


I lay across his gorgeous flesh

While I wondered at the luck

That brought to me this Adonis

Before the twelfth hour had struck.


At last, more calm, I raised myself

Up on shaking arms now weak,

For I noticed that hed gone still

And had, as yet, to speak.


As my eyes began to open,

I heard loud the midnight chime,

And gazed down upon my lover,

Into the face Id thought sublime.


What alchemy hast the clock wrought,

Oh, what dreadful magic curse?

For his face that watches silent

Is more fitted to a hearse!


A skin-wrapped skull regards me,

His eyes lit with flickering flame;

No trace of former beauty

In this mummy he became.


I shrieked and tried to free myself

From his claw-like bony grasp,

But his fingers, they clung tighter

And I could not undo their clasp.


In my panic, I was crying,

And begging to be released,

But he, silent, held me closer

Until all my struggles ceased.


Panting, fearful, I looked down

And then froze at what I saw:

For that awful face held sorrow,

Though his arms did not withdraw.


He stared at me and slowly

A bloody tear escaped his eye;

I was struck dumb, astonished

That such a thing as he could cry.


His withered jaws were moving,

As if unused to the act;

He seemed on the brink of speaking-

I knew not how to react.


My terror did not lessen

But was now tempered with concern;

What was this thing Id coupled with

And what was I now to learn?


He watched me and now somehow

This thing seemed far less a threat;

And after all, I told myself,

Hed not truly harmed me yet.


A sound came from his dry throat,

Much more like a cough than speech,

A sputtering and painful groan

Ending in a high-pitched screech.


His eyes, they were imploring,

As if desperate to convey

Some urgent, special secret,

Did not his wasted flesh betray.


Meanwhile, he kept me hugged close

And my skin tingled with dread

At this awful proximity

To some thing so surely dead.


My eyes closed in confusion,

And I held my breath as well,

Though as I did, I realized

He gave off no graveyard smell.


He spoke my name then softly,

I jerked back with shock and fear;

His stick-like arms then drew me back

And cuddled me close and near.


My heart was racing frantic

And my breath came fast and deep,

But gazing in his shriveled face

Once again, I saw him weep.


He spoke my name a second time

And I bid my heart to calm;

I slowly gained a strained control

And strove to show outward aplomb.


My countenance is ghastly, said he,

And more fitting to the grave;

This I know far better than you

For it is I who am deaths slave.


I went to speak in answer

But he shook his head, then said,

I am more cursed than any ghost

And have been eight decades dead.


I died here in this very room

You occupy as summer guest;

I shot my faithless, lifelong love,

Then put a bullet through my breast.


On that long-ago August night,

I found him with another;

Forgiveness never crossed my mind

For he was beneath my brother.


My wicked brother fled the room,

As I watched my true love expire;

He cursed me with his dying breath

With words hate filled and dire.


He died before I killed myself,

But I had not understood

That by taking both lives that way,

His death-door curse had truly stood.


He went on to whatever peace

Awaits a belov-ed who lies,

But I was left a corpse aware

Forever trapped in my demise.


Always I would walk this room,

Seeking out his replacement;

Offering in lust and love

For my penance and debasement.


For all men will crave my dead flesh

When it takes on the look of life,

But I am cursed to show myself,

And cut illusion like a knife.


Each time I think to find surcease,

The curs-ed clock sounds midnight chimes;

Lovers scream and flee my bed,

And each one pays me for my crimes.


Long years have I offered myself,

To strangers I cannot possess;

My lonely search will never end

Til with faithful love I am blessed.


I gave my heart unwisely, then

Took it back, more unwisely still;

Betrayed, I thought to end it all

But broken hearts are hard to kill.


In the hour before midnight

I am free to share in passion;

To breath alive for a brief time

And to love in my own fashion.


You are not the first handsome man

To lay spent upon my chest;

But only you were moved by tears,

And could pity what you detest.


I ask that you think well of me

And forget my true appearance,

I only want to give you joy

And reward your perseverance.


If you forgive this nights trespass

I will come again tomorrow

Encased in the flesh you enjoyed

In that one hour I may borrow.


Can you then look at me with lust?

And accept a monstrous lover?

If you could be my constant love,

We might counter-curse discover.


I offer love, an hour a time,

But forever and unending;

For what is time to such as I-

Long years are such easy spending.


I was considered beautiful,

And worth impassioned wooing,

It was only my misplaced trust

That was my deadly undoing.


More pleasure can be had with me

Than from any mere mortal man,

And even more, I still can love,

Just as I could when this began.


If these are things you could value,

If you are willing to attempt,

My undead life might be less harsh,

And need no other man to tempt.


And if nothing else should move you,

Know this, my fine-looking friend,

I felt a difference in your heart

But know not what it portends.


There did he cease his speaking

And only stared at me, intent;

The sadness in his horrid eyes

Gave credence to his lament.


I lay against this dreadful thing,

Yet no real fear was in my breast,

For I had heard enough to know

What tame intentions he possessed.


My own death was not at issue,

This corpse did not threaten me;

Indeed, his plight was pitiful

And itself a guarantee.


That he was cursed, I could accept,

That his hour was true, I had seen;

That I might mitigate the curse

Seemed a trifle less routine.


Yet looking down upon his face,

I recalled his lovely features;

It seemed a awful curse indeed

To reduce him to this creature.


He watched me without blinking,

So anxious but yet restrained;

I realized he posed no threat,

Though I could never have explained.


Could not have told another man

Why this curs-ed corpse seemed kind,

Something in his forthright mien

Struck me charming and refined.


What kind of man in life was he,

To be this courteous in death?

So unlike ghosts in nightmare tales,

He was no dread, deadly Macbeth.


At last I spoke answer aloud,

My voice a whisper in the night;

I saw him hold his breath-less breath,

As if anticipating blight.


If what you say is true, I said,

Youll resume the flesh you borrow;

I ask that you please share my bed

And will look for you tomorrow.


Still in his arms, I smiled at him,

Looking into that skull-like face,

Searching for the slightest hint

Of what prompted my first embrace.


For a second there, he flickered,

And I saw his beauty return;

As it did, I placed a soft kiss

To erase his fearful concern.


He smiled up at me lazily,

And then the illusion faltered;

Even so, I knew sudden peace

That no curse-born change could alter.


He left me then, I know not how,

For my exhausted eyes had closed,

Though not before I d time to think

Of the strange thing he had proposed.


When I awoke, I thought Id dreamed

For surely such things were untrue;

Though when night fell, I watched the clock

As if my day were not yet through.


When the clock did chime eleven,

I walked naked toward the bed,

And the feeling through my body

It was anything but dread.


And there he was, atop the sheet:

The light upon his smooth bare skin,

His black hair spreading like a fan,

And wearing nothing but a grin.


I laughed aloud at wicked fates

That bring bedfellows together,

But could wish for no sweeter sight

Nor no fairer bird of feather.


I leapt into the bed with him,

And clasped him close to me;

Careless of what midnight would bring

For now, this hour was key.


He took my hand and kissed me,

And looked close into my eyes;

He said, lover, are you certain?

You have seen my other guise.


Your curse is terrible, I said,

But you are here now and alive;

Let us share what joys we can

Before the midnight chimes arrive.


I drew his hand to my firm need

And kissed him all the while;

The scent of him like summer nights,

And love lived in his shy smile.


I drew my tongue on down his chest

And went on licking further south,

I heard him gasp and groan aloud

When I took him into my mouth.


His taste was light and luscious,

His nectar sought release;

His breath was ragged, gasping,

As he begged me not to cease.


But I had another longing

And pulled him over onto me;

My lover caught on quickly

And seemed happy to agree.


I wrapped myself around him

As he had done the night before,

And with his slender fingers

My hot depths did he explore.


I groaned low and called out aloud

When he touched me deep inside,

My need for him began to build

Until it could not be denied.


I pulled him nearer to me,

My hand an urgent guide;

I placed him where I needed

And then felt him slip inside.


He began with gentle movement

But I soon begged for something more;

He paused to lean down and kiss me

And then our needs were in rapport.


He pounded at my temple,

My legs wound around him tight;

His thrusts were filled with power

And he gave me no respite.


The pure pleasure that he gave me

Was more than I had ever known;

My passion spilled out between us

As my lover began to moan.


He reached the dizzy pinnacle

While I watched him from below:

Dark hair fell across his eyes

And his handsome face did glow.


His stiff saber pierced me faster,

As his lunges sped their pace;

He arched his back and cried out,

And then went limp in my embrace.


While I held him close against me,

And as I closed my eyes to sleep,

I heard the chimes at midnight

But my dreaming drew me deep.


In dreams, I walked beside him

Under starry midnight skies;

No chimes rang out between us,

And no need for dire goodbyes.


When I awoke, the sun spilled out

Across me and my tousled bed,

But the feel of flesh beside me

Struck my waking heart with dread.


Resolute, I turned to him,

Well determined to endure

The price for midnight passion

Yet was shaken and unsure.


Did not want to see my flower

Reduced to a graveyard bloom;

Did not want to see the horror

Cruel midnight made him assume.


I closed my eyes to ward off

What I knew that I would see;

Until I heard his sweet voice

Call good morning out to me.


My eyes went wide and startled,

For his voice was still his own,

And then I gasped in mazement

For his beauty had not flown!


His form was still beguiling,

And his face was handsome yet

His body still enticing-

Not a thing to bring regret.


He laughed at my expression,

And kissed me upon my cheek;

I stared at him, astonished

Simply unable to speak.


What of your ghost existence,

What of your cruel death and curse?

Asked I when I had breath,

How are such fell things reversed?


He stared at me so solemn,

That I dreaded his response,

I struggled hard to maintain

An apparent nonchalance.


Oh, love, he sighed and told me,

You know not what you did,

Your willingness and wanting

Were where my solution hid.


I did not know the outcome,

I knew only of my pain;

But you were willing lover

So the midnight curse is slain.


When last nights chimes were sounding

I saw you succumb to sleep;

I was glad to see your going

For your fear would make me weep.


I awaited my night horror,

For the grave to call to me;

But the chimes had finally ended

And what I still was, you see.


I drew him close and kissed him

And he responded to my touch;

I thrilled to know my midnight love

Was no more condemned to such.


Strange enough to find love

With the compass of your lust;

But stranger still to form men

From bodies made of dust.


His life had re-ignited

As the curse released his bones;

Now we claim more happiness

Than near any other owns.


And from that morning forward

Through the years of our long lives,

Well be everlasting faithful

Until our final hour arrives.



   The End




The Midnight Chime is a verse story by Tragic Rabbit.  The story itself, with all words and characters, belongs to TR.