Sex with a Ghost 1&2

"Oh, thank you! God bless you!" he went over to his back, and paused. Seconds after, Peter felt volts of electricity sizzled through his body. His legs gave way. His hands flailed wildly. He fell flat down. His thoughts scattered. It felt as if a million tiny daggers were touching his skin.

"Please!" he tried to scream but only a garbled faint noise came out of his mouth. He was confused, his body and mind at odds and he couldn't so much as raise a finger. His brain ordered his hands to stretch into his damned pocket, but he couldn't move a muscle. Panic grabbed him by the throat.

Still unable to move, to barely focus, he caught a glimpse of the supposed dead man standing over him. A wicked smile on his lips; terror struck deep in his heart. Again, he felt the volts of electricity sizzle through his entire body. He screamed; pain popped down throughout his body.

"Just making sure" he heard the standing behind him said.

He writhed, flopping on the smooth tarmac while his attacker calmly pulled out a rope to tie him with. These men are going to kidnap him and the thought of it turned his blood to ice.

"Don't do this! I will give you anything! Take the car and everything inside!" he yelled but only a garbled mewl came from his throat. He couldn't form the words. He tried to struggle but it was no use. Helpless and without control of his limps, he was rolling on the road.

"God help me!" he silently pleaded. He watched helplessly as one tied him up while the other one held him down firmly. Together they carried him, popped open the boot, and threw him in. They shut it and darkness blinded him. Soon the engine started and he could feel the car moving in high speed.

Where are they taking him to? What could he have possibly done to warrant his kidnap? What is he going to do? How will he escape this predicament? He pondered, his heart knocking out of control.

Calm down and think, he cautioned himself. This is your car remember, and you know it back and front. You keep your tools here in the boot, including a penknife. Calmly and painfully, with his hands behind his back, he tried to reach for the knife but failed. He tried again, the pain increasing in his shoulders and failed again. He kept trying over and over again with the pain in his shoulders heightening but he didn't mind. Getting out of this alive was all that mattered.

At one miraculous point, his fingers kissed the edge of the knife. He couldn't believe his luck. He pulled closer, the pain burnt his shoulders, his socket felt like they will dislocate. He screamed but the cloth in his mouth prevented words from proceeding from it; till he grabbed hold of the knife.

"Hey! You better keep quiet over there. If we get pulled over by the police because of you; you are a dead man" one of the kidnappers yelled at him.

With the knife, he set himself free by first cutting his hands loose; then his feet before removing the rag from his mouth. All these he did noiselessly without raising suspicions. Now he lay quietly, waiting for the car to stop. He would attack anyone that opened the boot. He couldn't recall seeing them with guns.

The car didn't stop for over two hours. They left the main road after about an hour. This he knew because the journey was no longer smooth. It was from one gallop to another, with dirty water splashing on the car body.

His heart began pounding in his ears as the tires slid to a stop. A cricket chirped, bullfrogs croaked, and wind swept into his nostrils, bringing with it the scent of swamp water and decaying vegetation. He braced himself. This was it. He wasn't going down without a fight. He inched forward in the blackness, his knee throbbing, his entire body quivering with fear.

Seconds after the stop, the boot went up and light filled the inside. Without waiting to see the face of the individual, he swiftly stabbed with the penknife on his lap. The person screamed in pain. He pulled out the knife and with all his might; he stabbed him on the other lap. He screamed again and fell down on the ground.

Peter jumped out of the boot and began running. To where? It didn't matter; he just wanted to get away from them. He ran for his life, feet sinking into the soft loan, the smell of earth and decaying vegetation and flesh heavy in his nostrils. Fear urged him onward. Dread caused every muscle in his body to tighten. Tired, he jogged softly through thick bushes as the morning sunlight crawled through the trees and bushes, burning off the last of the night fog. He didn't stop nor rested till he got to the main road.

"Peter!" he heard his name faintly, deforming his thought and gradually he was back at SINCITY. The soft music filled his ears once more. The sweet aroma of fried chicken filled nostrils.

"Peter!" a soft female voice called again. He raised his glance from the empty bottle up to her face and it was her; Heaven, in her radiating beauty. She was wearing the same blue tea-gown; she wore on the last day they met.

He stood up, wanted to hug her but changed his mind and not being sure how she will react. He stretched out his hand.

"Thanks," she said and took his hand. Her smile beautiful as always and it melted his heart. Quickly, he rushed behind her and pulled the leather chair softly for her to sit. He adjusted his suit before coming to take his own seat.

"It is really nice to see you," she said.

"Are you getting younger or just more beautiful?"

"I don't know," she said laughing softly.