This first appeared on the FML on November 14, 1995 -- I submit it again.
 
My Black Sin
 
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.  ooooooooooh!  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 slimy 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 deftly
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.  "Eeeeeeeee!" 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.
 
Epitaph: My Black Sin went on to produce 21 kits in two litters and was a
wonderful mother to her babies.  Tales that came back from those who
acquired her children were..."hauntingly" "familiar".  She no longer steals
my straws, but other black devils have followed in her style.
 
Cheers for a happy Holloween, Meg
[Posted in FML issue 2475]