| Kassidy Rae |
| Kassidy Rae was a graphics major in college. In October 1999, she answered a challenge for Halloween fiction and hasn't stopped writing since. Her short story, "Han and Greta" (a modernized, post-apocalyptic interpretation of "Hansel and Gretel") debuted in Quietus Gothic Literary magazine (http//www.quietusmag.com) in April 2004.
Surrounded by the picturesque Smoky Mountains, she lives in her native TN with her husband of 9 years and two daughters, ages 3 and 6. |
| Wifey�s Hyena
Kassidy Rae My hyena is a glossy brindle brown and black, with the slanted shoulders and accompanying awkward gait of her kind. Bat-like ears jut from her bony head, and below them black eyes shine. Sometimes her tongue lolls from her mouth after a good meal. And also, I think, when privately amused. Nothing is too good for her. She is the queen of my backyard. I keep her quarters spotlessly neat, I feed her only the freshest kill, and I bathe her often. My husband lives in mortal fear of my darling, but she pays him no attention. She is a fierce guardian of my children, and they love her without reserve, a love that is returned in full. Sometimes we take her on walks, but not often. She makes the neighbors uneasy. Perhaps the high-pitched laughter unnerves them. Annoys them, even, especially late at night. They don�t realize what a true treasure Hanna is. Instead we play tag with Hanna in the backyard, or chase a ball, or pretend to hunt. The children and I, that is. There my husband draws the line. He says Hanna looks at him. He says she looks hungry. After all, she ate my mother-in-law. |
| excerpt from Becoming
(a novel) Kassidy Rae ----------------- Taking seven steps backwards� I counted them, I remember� I took a running leap at the window. It exploded outward, glass shards falling all around. My head was tucked down, arms folded together to protect my eyes. Numerous stinging needles pierced my hands and forearms. I landed on the grass, the blade of the knife biting into my lower back. Somehow a piece of glass sliced my cheek. I stumbled upright. I couldn�t believe I was out. My cheek pulsed and stung, more so when I brought my hand up in an effort to stem the blood flow. I was on the west side of a large old Victorian cottage, narrow, peaked roof spiking up into the dusky sky. Some distance from the front of the house a green and rolling lawn slanted downwards to a lake. To the side and back, trees crowded the lush grass, trying to regain lost territory. I grabbed for the knife. It had nearly slid out of my pants, but the tip of the blade caught the material, turning the sharpened side into my flesh, gouging me as I fell. I was relieved to find it a shallow wound. Moving the knife around my waistband to my hip, I started towards the lowering branches of the trees closest to me, ignoring the weakness that left my knees trembling at every step. Just as I passed underneath the first trees, I heard him calling my name. His voice sounded almost mocking. I ran, cursing him and the damned wavering in my legs that caused me to stumble more than once. The approaching twilight was even darker with the trees huddling against the light that remained. The harsh sound of my breathing drowned out the night sounds of the forest rising all around. I stumbled and fell to my knees, trying to catch my breath. When I looked up again I saw shoes, standing in front of me. My eyes followed the line of legs up to his face, fingers curling into fists as he stepped closer. �Now what?� he said. �Let me go,� I whispered, staring at him. He knelt down on his knee, eyes drawn to my cheek. �You�ve hurt yourself,� he said, almost tenderly. He reached out to touch my face, and I flinched away. �I want to go home,� I repeated in a stronger voice. �Do you hear me? I want to go home.� He took my hands in his, his voice whispering in my ear. �Soon you�ll want me of your own free will. Then who will you blame?� I stared blankly in the gloom. He ran his fingers through my hair as if caressing me before his mouth came down upon mine. I closed my eyes, the feel of his lips arousing me against my will. He was so hungry, so wanting. I pulled the knife out of my waistband just in time to avoid discovery as he leaned into me, bearing me down to the leafy ground. My arms came around him, knife in hand, and I clung to him, trying not to think. His tongue found the warm blood on my face, licking it. A deep throb began between my legs, and my eyes flew open wide. I brought the knife down, ramming it into his back. He made a choked, guttural sound and pulled away from me, falling to one side, curling into a ball. His fingers fumbled awkwardly for the knife protruding from his back, blood spurting out and down to the forest floor. I heard the wet, squelching sound as he pulled it out. He lay there panting, staring at me with eyes almost bleached of color. A thrill of terror ran up the back of my skull as he struggled to right himself, blond hair falling over his forehead. His head swiveled, white face fixed to mine. His eyes were an animal�s. He threw himself at me, pushed me back until he straddled me on the ground. I didn�t fight, disoriented by his speed. He held the knife before him, horizontal to my face, bringing it closer. I looked up into those looming, feral eyes and the forest spun around the edges of my vision. �Open your mouth.� I stared at him, not speaking. He grabbed my chin, then hooked a finger over my lips and down behind my bottom teeth. He pulled, and the muscles in my jaw felt like they were tearing in two. Quickly I opened my mouth and he placed the blade against my tongue. I tasted copper death. His blood. Mine. He lowered his mouth to my throat and I strained helplessly against him as teeth pierced my throat. His warm lips clung to me, his mouth drawing my blood, thrusting me into a near frenzy. With every movement he made against me I shuddered, lost. I whimpered without meaning to when he pulled from me. Then his lips crushed mine and I tasted blood before he yanked his pants down first, then mine, and pushed roughly inside me. I bucked up against him, panting, as he pounded into me. I met his every stroke, straining against him as he pushed me to higher and higher heights. It should have been rape but it wasn�t. Afterwards, we were quiet together. He reached up to touch my cheek. Rubbing my blood between his fingers, he brought it to his lips, tasting me, smiling dreamily in the deep dusk. �I can�t stop myself where you are concerned, it seems� and neither can you,� he said. I turned my head away, ashamed. The leaves beneath me rustled as I rolled over. �You�ll find I�m hard to kill. And Rachel� � he said, fixing me again with those green eyes, �everything has its price. Including what you�ve done tonight.� He heaved himself upwards. He didn�t seem to be in any pain. He offered me his hand but I wouldn�t take it. He looked at me coldly. �It�s too late for you. You want to die alone?� I pulled myself up, ignoring him, and stumbled back in the direction of the house. |
 |
 |