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 did part 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 he‘d 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 un-used 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 I’d coupled with

         And what now was I to learn?

          He watched me and now somehow

          This thing seemed far less a threat;

          And after all, I told myself,

          He’d 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 held 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 death‘s 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 hot August night,

          I found him with another;

          Forgiveness never crossed my mind

          For he was beneath my brother.

          My wicked sibling fled the room,

         As my one true love expired;

         He cursed me with his dying breath,

         His last words hate-filled and dire.

         He died just before I killed myself,

        But I had not understood

         That by taking both our 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 would I walk this room,

          Seeking for his replacement;

          Offering in lust and love

          As 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 night’s 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-

           Lonely years are easy spending.

           I was considered beautiful,

          And worth impassioned wooing,

           It was only my misplaced trust

           That was my dead-ly undoing.

          More pleasure can be had with me

          Than from a 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

          Lent credence to his lament.

          I lay against this dreadful thing,

          Yet no true 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,

             You‘ll 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 moment there, he flickered,

            And I saw his beauty return;

            As it did, I placed a soft kiss

            To erase his fear-ful 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 then continued 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 night’s 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

            When 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,

           We‘ll 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. If you see this story somewhere you do not think it belongs, please let him know, as it might constitute a copyright infringement.  Also, please drop a line if you enjoyed this or any other story.  TR always loves to hear from readers! If you enjoyed this story, read more TR work by visiting:

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(Read the short story Some Enchanted Evening and the poem Ghost Kisses for more spectral romance)