The Red Path

some place are just places others talk inside you

The Red path interrupted the road at an odd angle. People passing could see up to the first kink in the narrow way but no more. The path was crooked. Also it didn't like people. People are nosey Parker's, who need things to know. But deep down the path there where things that did not need knowing, she knew that.

She liked the Red Path. She was not a finder, she was a looser. Being lost, badly lost, made her invisible. Nobody would find her even if they did come looking. When you are lost everything feels new and time feels long and that's exciting.

The Red Path of E9 spoke to her. Well, actually it spoke in her. The first time was last autumn. It coughed leaves across the pavement in front of her and broke her concentration, and made her look into its old throat full of spiders and mould. She frowned. Then it smiled inside her, and smiled so hard that she grinned below her frown. That is how they met. She loved how it ripped her with brambles.

The path started level with the road ran behind the houses and split in two. One fork doubled back on itself as it descended to the green, continued to the football pitches and finished at the skate park under the bridge. Sometimes boys would finger her for money behind the half pipe. They were not very good at it, they where too horny to get it done, but she did liked how their bodies would go ridged before they'd come.

Sometimes just before their orgasm she would stop rubbing them and they would whimper and beg and stab their erection at her. It was funny, and occasionally she would laugh at them like a bitch and leave with their cash, but mostly she wouldn't. She'd stay and continue to stroke them real slow and grin as desperation mounted as they got closer and closer and when they reached the point of no return she would stop premature and hold it firmly and the boy yell then spasm uncontrollably. His body would buck and she would laugh, and he would collapse. Sometimes she while she was busy she would slip a hand into her anorak, where she kept a Stanley knife and ratchet the blade out and prick herself. All in all it made her very wet and very itchy.

She cut a hole in the other pocket so she could she could hide cash in her bra and nobody would notice, and also if the itch was really intense she could to dip her finger into herself. Once a dog walker appeared as she walked back, and as they approached she stop and hooked two fingers in completely and smiled as they passed.

But it was against the rules to climax. When she got to the precipice, before the frenzy she would stop. The sacrifice on the edge would grow the itch. The longest she had ever managed to edge was eleven days in a row.

If you did not fork down the other way led over the highway.

Well, first it went past the second handed houses with white walls that turned green and ended with in mould. The people here had nothing, everything they owned was a gift from someone else. When the hand-me-down housed finished there was a gap, full of refuse and then the highway broke the path in two.

The highway lay in a concrete gutter that bent and entered a tunnel. You crossed over in a cadged bridge and the path was straight after that all the way down to the end where it joined with a gap in the street, between the Bus yard and the someones home.

That road led to shops and on to a garden park with iron gates and high walls hundreds of years old. It was neat, it was ordered and there is nothing more disgraceful than a manicured garden. She did care for that. Order is a malfunction.

Things deserve to unravel like backyards with rotten walls that are aligned in corridors and people could appear and evaporate in the humid summer air. Once a big fat Caribbean woman walked through a wall. She saw her do it. It was shocking until she found one plank was loose. It bent forward and flicked back like a playing card.

She did not follow after the woman. She looked in. It was paved with concrete squares and the less worn sides where green with moss. The girl nodded at the short cut and returned to the path.

In the dead white tree in the middle of the green a council of magpies and ravens squawked and cawed at the crows who marched in scattered clusters and hammered the floor randomly. It was a strange day nobody had shadows, the sky was too low.

She looked across the green. Something was coming. She did wait.

A black man with a swollen mouth and bald patches tried to sell make-up to her on the way home. She was listening to music and did not hear a word. He looked urgent so she stopped. He pulled a plastic tube of beige skin concealer out and fondled in with his palm. He scratched and twitched and looked desperate. She shook her head. His mouth ticked rapidly then opened and closed as he spoke, he looked down. She shook her head and left.

Today was the day, she though, it was obvious.

She waited for dark.

The rain rinsed the sky and the night was mild for summer.

When it was dark she got undressed and showed the moon then chose a frock let her hair down slipped out. She smiled and spread her arms wide open and laughed with her head thrown back and when she arrived at the sign to the Red Path she winked and skipped in.

The path had no lights at all. She slowed her pace to dilated her eyes and peered over fences steeling glimpses of other lives.

At the refuse alley she turned in, just behind the line of second hand home. The alley was adjacent to the highway and cars woosed past with the sound of waves on the beach. She let her fingers drag in the loops of fences and then counted down her steps from eight stopped and approached the nearest fence.

The yard had a long garden with a shed and a wood slatted gate which had been left open. She walked sunken step stones to the patio and watched three people eat. Two sat on a sofa and a father on in an arm chair, they all had trays and they all had flickering blue faces. No one spoke. They chewed then swallowed then blinked and then chewed again. The man pointed his knife swore and drank some beer.

The girl opened her mouth and exhaled on the window and drew an upside down smiling face, and when she stepped back to admire it a room to the left glowed subtly her eyes glisened and she looked in.

There was a bright passage light and a silhouette in a door frame. The figure entered door closed and stopped beside a single bed. A little lamp came on. It was a teenage boy. From the bedside table he got half a roll of toilet paper and a bottle of hand lotion, then sat down at his desk opened a laptop and put on headphones.

The girl covered her mouth and her eyes grinned.

The figure leaned back covered in the flicker of pornography, fumbled in his lap and reached for the hand lotion.

The widow was divided in two and hinged half was ajar.

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She gets her phone, and holds it to the window and giggles softly and watches him watch his screen on her screen with a red dot glowing under her thumb, then she puts the phone on the floor between her feet and takes her panties off, folds them up, shows the rolled ball to the camera and lobs them on to the pillow, then frames her face against the widow back drop, smiles and makes a peace sign. (and then she leaves)

The wind was sofy and blew up her thighs in a way she had no noticed before. She felt outrageous without her underwear. Her pussu liked feeling the the breeze of the night.

Back in the alley she squatted on her pone and took a photo of herself. It was blurred, so she took another then she pit the phone b b bnack in her bra and continued up the alley it ended in thick bramble, she tried to wade through but it was not having it, and ripped her inner thigh.

And netttles stung her behind the knee and she abandoned that way for a night with jeans and doctor martins. The houses beuond the n nrambles where nig and bright at night.

She went cc bac bavk to the pa path Back on the path she took another picture, this one was the tear and tiny drops of blood. Blood looks black at night. The itch was uponer her and she felt very wet.

She walked down the red path to the caged bridge over the motorway and lifted her dress and counted the cars passing between her legs. He took a photo that looked like she was the tunnel, and she laughed at that photo.

A man on a bicycles went passed with a huge cube on his bag, he left the smell of chicken and french fries in his wake.

Hey give me the food and you can finger me, she shouted after him, but he was already gone.

She went to the broken fence and slipped in. There where more rows of house and back yards and then there was a house that picked her.

It was up a short but steep drive way. The road had lamps but this place went dark. The house invited her, and the way it spoke within made her heart race.

I see you down there, the house said And then a widow beamed a shadow crossed and returned and the light went out. The after glow lingered blue whenever she blinked, and then the ghost of the light faded and driveway swallowed her one step at a time.


Her heart was thumping, it was midnight at least and she could feel every air on her skin as she kept up the drive way, she could feel the breeze on her pussy. It was cool and fresh.

She got to the front door and at the first step a bright light turned on and exposed her, she was blind for a moment, then darted out of the cone of light, and hid in gardenia hedge, it was still in bloom and the perfume was pungent. She waited. Nothing happened. The light extinguished. She venture back out. All the windows were black slates except of one at the far end. She head for the light and looked in the room was empty.

A movement made her duck down, she had been seen, doubled over she crawled alone the wall to the corner.

She frantically looked about for a route out. She was panicking and she had to knee and lean against the wall and breathe her way clear of the suddenness of it all.

In the frame of light a silhouette appeared an arm reached up and then the amount of light was halved, the silhouette leaned the other way, did the same thing and the light was reduced to a thread. She had stopped breathing and had to remind herself to inhale a few seconds after the curtains had been closed.

She giggled into her palm and smile up at the eves. then she stroked her pussy it was so wet, and sticky she tugged at her clit and it was aching o cum,

She looked a round and hitched the hem of her dress up so she could she herself and curled her her two middle fingers into her cunt, and slapped them in and out she was getting closer and closer, and she loved seeing her fingers disappear inside her, and feel them form the inside, it was getting desperate and she pulled them put and rubbed the clitoris fast her abdomen tensed and her gasped silently she was going to come and then she clenched her eyes and stopped and panted and let her cunt drip on the floor.

She stroked it lightly and breathed. She stood up and let the skirt fall her breasts felt so full. She slipped along the wall to the crack in the curtain and looked in.

There was a woman inside, the woman was wearing a tank top pale blue hot pants. Her hair was tide up and her face was very shiny, it was one of those pour cleaners, she pottered about cleaning up things that where are ready cleaned up, her mother did this all the time. Perhaps as you get older the urgency of neatness would grow in her too.

The woman left the bedroom with a bundle of clotting.

The girl chased around the back of the house into the backyard. She scanned the black window until she spotted one that was outlined in white glow and headed for that. She passed a glass window on the way and dodged a plastic garden table with plastic chairs neatly covered and stacked in neat rows and leaning on the wall. The rear exit had an awning, but it was retracted.

The destination room was frustrating became she could any make out some shelves and such. The woman was in there, she could hear her. The girls walked back to the glass door, she sat on the table, it was cold against her but. She looked into the kitchen area the light was on and then suddenly the woman walked in, She was wrong, she wasnt in the laundry, the woman walked straight toward the glass door, the girls gasped and froze and stopped breathing.

the woman looked directly at her and stopped. She put the large bundle of washing on the counter top and walked forward and stopped. She smiled and stopped. She bared her teeth then stopped. She turned her body and pushed her but out and pulled her tank top close to her form then she picked up the laundry and left.

The girl was still paralysed and then she laughed into her hand pressed against her mouth, and lay backyard on the table and lay there absorbing the chill of the plastic through her dress. She looked left and then right and smiled at the world. She lay like that a while then she lifted herself on her elbows and looked into the house again. Her dress had draw up high on her thighs. She opened her legs and wagged them in the air and nodded at the glowing kitchen.

Then she sat upright, with her hands gripping the edge of the table and hunched her shoulders and let her head hang. The woman returned and the girl watched her open the cupboard under the sink pour washing powder into a small translucent up, get two plastic bottle out, then the woman left again.

The girl scratched an itch on her cheek,and then she smelt her fingers, she turned her fingers over and smelt them again, and again then she tasted them and then stood up and walked to the door and pulled at the handle and the plane slide open. She let the door handle go, her arm flopped to her side and she looked at the tiny opening she had just created, then she looked down the house to the laundry, the window outline was still glowing. She pulled her dress straps over her shoulder and the dress dropped.

She stepped out of her converse speakers and entered the kitchen dress in her bra and socks, she turned around slide the door closed and stepped back and looked herself up and down. A mobile phone was tucked in the cup of the right breast. She took it out and held it over her face and straightened her arm. It flashed. She pulled it back fiddled and then resumed the pose. There was no flash this time. Then she reached an arm behind her back and the bras tension went limp. She took it off and pulled it around her waist and fastened it in the front and pulled it down until it was comfortable.

The girl faced the corned of the kitchen and extended her arm again, held her bra aloft and smiled and tilted her head, then pulled the phone in close and fiddled and smiled to herself then took another selfie with a big grin and a two fingers splayed and put the phone into her bra holster and leaned forward and stroked the smooth marble kitchen counter top.

The light in the laundry went out and a second later the girl jerked her around and darted out the kitchen into the passage.

The kitchen stayed empty for a while.

The woman returned opened the fridge and poured a glass of wine, then she approached the glass door, locked it and put the key in the closest draw and returned again to draw the curtains.

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She had never walked that way, in fact she had never really noticed it was there until recently. The corridor began talking to her.

When ever she walked passed it spoke. Well not typically talking, its not a person so that's stupid. The corridor would cause talking from inside her eyes.

It would cough leaves in front of her, as she walked home. That would make her look into it and that would interrupt her thoughts and that would make her stop walking.

Then it would sigh in a way that made her pussy sticky. It wasn't the sound of a sweep of wind through spiky dead leaves, no, it was a sigh in-between her eyes. The corridor knew how to sigh inside of her, and occasionally it was so deep that she felt compelled to catch her breath with an involuntary gasp. The tunnel was a tricky thing.

It was a rude corridor, untidy and unkempt and crooked. She would frown at it from the other side of the road. And if it had teeth she imagined it would smile them at her.

That leafy walkway wanted to eat her, and she new it in the way that food knows that at some point it will either rot or be eaten. But the corridor would have to wait because her pussy was very wet and she was in the mood.

People would appear from no where, people from the neighbourhood, no matter how closely she watched. They would be not be there and then altogether there.

And they would walk out the throat, over the tongue, and onto the pavement and circle around the big bowel and be off to their home. The tunnel didn't talk to them.

She was almost asleep, and it intruded from the other side of the cul-de-sac.

She was up to her knuckles inside herself when it sighed.

"I see you" it said, "you should not be dong that."

but she had just reached the granitic bit and she was so close to the end, she bit her eyes together and let the devil slip out, and she lay back and panted, full of sweat and cum.

Her cunt throbbed like a disembowelled bee barb. The waves radiated out ward and back, and her toes tingles. The waves occurred more slowly until they stopped. And the tingle in her toes receded. It was a lot of work and over so quick.

She dipped a finger into her slit and stroked up and down then patted her finger on her entrance and pulled wet threads of grool, which she pinched between finger and thumb into meniscus webs for her phone to see. When her breath was normal she picked up the phone pouted waved goodbye and stopped recording.