She, and others of her kind, have been with us over the ages, when man and
woman, closed the doors tight at night, hunkered down by a fire with the
children pulled close -- and let that superstitious fear -- in little
chills, creep up the spine.  From times of mythological gods and forrest
beasties.  Wraiths that spill in a cold black mist across moors.  Ghosts and
witches.  Things that go "bump" in the night.  Mystery.  Evil.  Cold and
creeping.  Theft of our tangible valuables, or that which we hold valuable
-- our souls.  Thief of our souls.  ooooooooh!  Often cloaked as a wicked
she............................Sin.  Black Sin.
 
It was a cold and stormy night.  The wind, rain and branches slashed at the
windows like slimmy unspeakable monsters.  The electricity was on but the
storm had taken the cable.  Hunched under the covers for warmth while nature
vented her rage.  One small light on, casting dim shadows about the room.
Nearly asleep, I feel an atavistic and primitive feeling creep over me
sending the fine hairs on my neck prickling.  I open my eyes slightly and
see Her.  Across the table and over the arm of the stuffed chair.  A small
face.  A black nosed, black face with eyes as black as obsidian reflecting
light from the small lamp.  I freeze with my eyes slit barely open I see her
watching......watching.  I am held, spellbound.
 
Finally, in a silent fluid motion, a small black body drifts silently over
the arm of the chair and lightly drifts across the table - like a fine black
mist.  With a grace born of many night time forays, the entity gracefully
dodges the pitiful barriers placed in her way to give me warning of her
approach.  Again.  She moves quickly with evil purpose.  I tense, waiting
for the attack -- ready to spring to defense.  Ready, if possible, to
capture her.
 
Swiftly, she makes her move.  As she moves, I too, spring up and forward to
grab.  Alas, again, I am not fast enough.  She does it to me again.  For the
hundredth time or more.  She Grabs My Straw From My Diet Coke!
 
Aiyeeeaaaagh!!  My howl pierces the darkness, sending others of her kind
scurrying to the darkened corners of the room.  I spring from the bed in
pursuit, heedless of the spilling diet coke behind me.  Intent on my
objective I pound across the room.  " Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" goes the black
she-devil with tail fur standing out like a brush, she flees beneath the
bureau.  Her booty is placed where my arms cannot reach.  Triumphant she
appears -- with a smirk on her black, black face.  Now, I grab her and hold
her face close to mine while I tell her how evil she is.  She playfully nips
my nose.  It is too late for me.  My soul is lost to this wee monster.  My
Black Sin.  How aptly I named her.  meg.
[Posted in FML issue 1379]