Thursday, 30 October 2014

The All Hallows Witches

The All Hallows Witches

Tuesday, nothing special, same mundane day dragging on as usual. Then I get this phone call from my aunt. Not the nice social sort, she and I shared every week but borderline hysterical.

My aunt Jeanette, lived on a remote croft in the Scottish highlands. It was at the end of October, when I got the panic phone call from her asking me to come up urgently to Scotland. I didn't give it a moments thought. I immediately said, “Sure. I'm on my way.” And began to make arrangements for the 300 mile drive from my home in London. I was intrigued because she wouldn't tell why she needed my help so pressingly.

If I was going to make it to Scotland, driving my clapped out banger of a car all the way there, was not an option. Poor old thing had only just scrapped through it's MOT test. Perhaps it would have been better if I had driven my own car, as it was, I hired, what I thought was a tougher, newer, and more reliable transport. I hired a 4x4, and set off confident I'd have no problems.

I had driven to my aunt's cottage many times, but the delay caused in hiring a car made me leave London later than I should have. It was almost 10 pm and very dark when I finally arrived at her single story farm house.

My aunt opened the door looking harassed and with a troubled expression on her normally calm face.

What took you so long?” She asked peering into the blackness quickly ushering me through the door and slamming the bolt in place, something she never usually bothered to you.

Heavens – what have you done to yourself?” I asked. She was on crutches with a plaster cast on her right leg that went up to her knee.

Had an accident with the car. It's a lot worse off than I am. I'll tell you all about it later but first help me with these bags. I've booked us rooms at an hotel for the night. It's about 20 miles from here, so we better get going.” She answered talking rapidly as if speaking any slower was wasting time.

Without offering any explanation Aunt Jeanette, pointed a crutch at a holdall, and small suitcase sitting by her front door.

I hauled the luggage to the car, settled her in. With my curiosity at bursting point, I said, “Okay, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what on earth is going on.”

I'll tell you as we drive. We canny stay here any longer. It's getting too close to the time. They'll soon be here.”

Who will be here?”

I said drive. We can't stay here any longer.” The terror in her voice made me do as she told me. I put the key back in the ignition, and started the car. Except I didn't. The car growled, spluttered but refused to turn the engine over. I tried three more times. Each time I got the same response. Noise – no movement.

We'd better get back inside and protect ourselves.” She scrambled out of the car, and hobbled as fast as her injury allowed back into the house. I followed, my curiosity reaching its limits.

Inside she began barking orders at me, “Close all the shutters and make sure the outer doors are barred. I'll re-stoke the fire. There's more wood in the back lobby. As soon as you've barred the door, bring all the wood there is, in here. We need as big a blaze as we can get, and me mustn’t let the fire go out. ”

Auntie – will you please tell me what on earth is happening here? What is after you?”

I saw in my aunt's eyes a cavernously deep terror. Her face became drained of colour as she whispered, “They are coming not just for me – they are coming for us.”

I squeezed her hand and asked as gently as I could,” What is coming for us? Why are you so frightened?”

Because of what my ancestor did. Please don't waste time. First we must make the cottage safe from anything getting in, then I'll tell you everything.”

My aunt's cottage had heavy wooden shutters covering every window of the single story building. I had always thought they were there to keep out the harsh highland winter. It wouldn't be long before I learnt the real reason, and I was going to be terrified beyond my imagination.

Each window had a shutter either side of it, and each shutter opened down the middle, with a thick iron bolt on the inside running across the centre, making it impossible for anyone to open the shutter from the outside. The ceiling hatch to the roof attic had a thick iron chain and double padlocks securing it from being opened from inside the attic. The front and back doors of the cottage were protected by a stone porch that had a heavy wooden door opening outwards with the same iron bolt configuration across the middle, and strong metal bolts top and bottom. The front and back doors of the cottage mirrored the porch doors.

I went through the cottage closing the shutters, and bolting them. As I shut the the windows I realised the double glazed units were made from unbreakable glass. I drew the curtains, and wondered what on earth had my aunt so frightened that she had turned her cottage into a mini fortress.

The house on total lock down, we sat by the now roaring fire drinking coffee to keep us awake. My aunt talking – me listening.

Your great grandfather Hamish MacDonald, a few times back, was a man of strong religious views who believed in the devil as strongly as he believed in God. In 1647, the burning of witches was a familiar occurrence in these parts. The victims nearly always women. On a particularly cold wet November night, there was a knock at the cottage door. Four women, one heavily pregnant were outside begging for sanctuary. Hamish's wife, Jean MacDonald, did what any decent person would do, she let them in to warm themselves by the fire and fed them hot broth. Hamish had been away in the local town, and on his return he recognised the women as witches who had been tried and sentenced to burn at the stake. Somehow they had managed to escape from their accusers, and fled into the hills looking for a place to hide until the storm passed.
Jean, pleaded with him to help them. She begged for the unborn child's sake to let them stay.
He'd have none of it. “That creature nestled in her belly is the devil's child. It should die along with her.” His heart as hard as stone, Hamish threw them out into the cold dark night.
Quietly, Jean, told them to go to the barn where they would at least be warm until morning, when she would try and help them get away.
During night the pregnant woman went into labour in the barn. She died giving birth to a stillborn baby boy. In the morning Hamish found the bodies of the mother and child in his barn. Unrepentant at his cruelty he went into town and alerted the witch hunters about the other women. The three other woman didn't get far before they were caught. Guilty of witchcraft, they were burnt at the stake, and as they burned, in their agony they cursed Hamish MacDonald, and all his offspring.
The following year, on all hallows eve, Hamish and Jean were sitting in front of a warm fire, when there was a a knock on the door. Hamish went out to see who it was. I don't know for sure what happened. Nobody does other that Jean found him in front of the barn. A terrorized expression on his face, and his hands curled as if clutching at something.”

Auntie – it's just a story. Who knows what really happened back then. He could have been drunk and died of exposure.” I said rationally. My aunt came back straight at me.

There were others. After Hamish died, Jean moved away and gave the croft to Hamish's younger brother. He never lived there but on his death the cottage and land was inherited by his son. Joshua MacDonald died the same way as his uncle on all hallows eve. After that, although the croft has remained in the MacDonald family, no one in the family has ever stayed here again on Halloween. Until tonight.”

The shiver than ran down my spine chilled me to my bones.

They will come for us and we have to be ready.” As if to emphasise her point she threw a large log on the fire. We sat in silence as the flames caught hold of the wood.

I felt the heat of the fire as if I was inside it. And was it my imagination? Did I hear a scream on the wind? The agonised sound of a woman burning to death. I'm sure I did. Whatever I thought I heard, the noise of someone knocking on the front door was heard by us both.

The cloak on the mantel above the fireplace showed 10pm.

Our night of horror began.

Several loud raps in succession ripped into the silence between us.

It's them.” My aunt whispered in a terror soaked voice.

It could be a neighbour calling to see if you are all right.” Neither of us believed what I was saying.

We sat still, not daring to move, straining our ears against the clamour of the highland wind whistling around the cottage, praying to hear retreating footsteps.

My heart was pounding so hard, it vibrated against the inside of my skull. Fear dried my throat that I couldn't breathe. Then the knocking stopped, and for a long time there was an eerie expectant silence.

The scratching began softly at first. On another night, we'd have dismissed it as mice – but this was all hallows, and something was outside wanting revenge. The scratching became a deep clawing. We saw in our imagination the gouges cut in shutters, and the owners of the long talons that were ripping into the thick wood.

I shivered, and for the first time in my life wished I wasn't a MacDonald.

Dead fingers turned the door handles, rattling the locks, trying in vain to enter.

Fear shot down to my bladder. I had to pee. Then I remembered, the bathroom was the one room where I had forgotten to close the shutters.

I was going to have to open the window, lean out, grab the shutters, and then pull them together before I could close them. The window was typical of a bathroom, narrow. It would be a squeeze. Getting stuck a possible reality.

My brain yelled at me to scramble to my feet and repair my mistake.

I glanced at my aunt. Her eyes were red rimmed from tiredness. The skin across her cheeks pinched and sallow, dark circles under the redness, accentuated her fearful expression. I felt awful in forgetting the shutter, I'd let her down. I brightened for a moment. The window was triple glazed with security glass. Surely nothing could get through that? Did I need to tell her? She'd find out when she used the bathroom. No point in hiding what I done.

Auntie Jeanette. I didn't close the shutter over the bathroom window. Surely that's okay? After all the window itself is as strong as Fort Knox?”

What little colour she had left in her face drained to pale ashen.

Oh Alison. You have to shut it. It's not the shutters themselves that are important. It's the runes written on them.”

But I didn't see any runes.” I defended myself.

They are old and faded but they are there, and they are our only protection. You have to close those shutters. If you don't they will get in, and we will die.”

Filled with that cheering thought, I sped to the bathroom. I no longer needed to pee. My fear saw to that.

The glass in the window was clear. I had always thought it was another of my aunt's odd foibles, now I understood why. A light hanging directly above the window gave an unobstructed view of the outside. Pressing up against the glass, I could see everything in a ten feet circle. Enough to warn me of approaching witches – I hoped.

My dry throat ached for relief. The sink taps' tantalizing allure of water tempted me – but I daren't drink. I wasn't going to alert whatever was out there to where I was.

With the same thought I left the light switch turned off. I didn't need the light anyway. There was enough brightness coming in from the outside.

With trembling fingers I slowly lifted the handle of the window until I felt a slight opening. Not daring to breath I gently pushed it open and leaned out as far as I could, both arms extended. The force of the biting cold curled my fingers, slowing me down.

There was something circling on my left. Movement caught the edge of my vision, then I heard the footsteps close by. Too close.

Another movement to my right. Panic swelled up my abdomen, hitting me in the chest. I stopped breathing but I didn't stop thinking. I threw myself as far forward as I could, grabbed the shutters, and I yanked as quickly as I could to close them. Inches from my goal two pairs of hands, the fingers blackened and burnt down to the bone in places, seized hold of each shutter, forcing them open again.

I heard myself scream as I saw their faces or rather what was left of their faces. Black eyes, mad with vengeance. Scorched flesh hanging down in fire savaged ribbons. Lip-less teeth snarling hate at me. There was not a glimmer of humanity left in the creatures, only a raging fury against the living.

Somehow I managed to keep my mind, and hang onto the edge of wooden shutters. Hard as I tried, my physical strength was no match for their ethereal anger. The shutters flew open and the witches screeched into the bathroom.

My memory of what happened next is sketchy. The rubber end of a crutch was push under my arm. Seizing the lifeline I somehow made it to the open doorway, and my aunt. Balancing on one crutch she slammed the door shut behind me with the other. On the side facing into the hallway, she had hurriedly chalked a set of symbols.

These should keep them out for awhile.” She said of her work.

What do they say?”

I've no idea. I simply wrote what is written on the shutters. I only hope I remembered correctly.” She had.

The wind calmed to a low monotonous drone. It would have been better if it hadn't. The quiet brought with it another horror.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight, and a cold dread crawled up my spine, sending a tingling sensation all the way to my finger tips. I no longer felt simple fear, a far greater dread took hold of me as I listened to the creatures running up the side of the cottage, and onto the roof. Moments later roof tiles began to cascade like rain down onto the ground. We held hands as the bolted hatchway to the attic shook from a tremendous force hitting it over and over again. The chain strained, and one of the padlocks split apart. Horrified we watched the hatch opening.

The kitchen steps. Go get them.” I understood immediately what my aunt planned to do. I pulled the steps directly under the hatch.

Fire ravaged fingers curled tightly onto the wooden attic door pulling it upwards. What was left of an arm pushed through the opening swatting the air.

Ducking the arm, and ignoring the pain shooting through her foot my aunt managed to balance herself on the top step. Giving no thought to the harm to her already broken leg if she fell, she stretched upwards far as she could, and wrote the same strange words as she had on the bathroom door.

The last symbol drawn, a piecing shriek sliced the air, howling profanities the creature was thrown backwards by the forceful power of the ancient spell.

As long as I live, I hope never again to hear such a sound as that scream.

Then everything went quiet. We piled more wood on the fire sending the flames high up into the chimney. Exhaustion pushing us towards sleep, we drank more black coffee to stay awake, and waited, praying we'd heard the last of the witches.

If the runes stop them getting into the house. Surely there must be a some way of stopping them from coming here at all?” The runes worked at keeping the witches out of the cottage, so it stood to reason there had to be a way of lifting the curse.

My aunt nodded a slow tired nod, sighed deeply and said, “Maybe there is a way to stop this – I don't know if I have the courage to do it.” She was talking more to herself than me.

And that is?” I asked when she didn't continue.

It's too frightening. And besides I don't know if they will do as I hope.”

Aunt Jeanette, what happens if you get trapped here on Halloween again, and I'm not here to help you? Are you going to face these creatures on your own? Please - tell me. I'll do whatever it takes to rid us of this curse.”

My aunt looked washed-out and on the verge of collapse - but I had to know. I pushed, “Tell me. At least let me try.”

Her light blue eyes had taken on a slate grey, and there were newly appeared streaks of white in her hair. Shrugging something to herself she said, “Many years ago, my father consulted a medium. She told him we had to face the wronged women. We had to atone for the crime Hamish committed. We have to make amends.”

And how do we do that?”

We have to invite them into the cottage, and let them stay the night with us. And we have to do it before midnight.”

The clock on the mantel said we had fifteen minutes to decide.

Had it only been two short hours since I'd pulled my hire car up in front of my aunt's cottage. It seemed like days.

I made the decision for both of us. I did not need to look at my aunt to see her expression as I walked toward the front door, the chill of her terror was driven into my back.

What choice did I have?

After the blazing heat of the cottage the night air was cold on freezing – but it wasn't the cold that made be shudder. Standing in the pool of yellow light cast outwards from the porch, stood the four women. I saw them as they had looked in life. Two of them were so alike they had to have been sister. Wild red hair that tumbled down their backs in rivers of fiery curls. High boned cheeks, and wide green eyes, gave a a frame to their full lipped mouths. Tall and willowy slender with high full mounded breasts shown off from underneath low cut bodices. They were beautiful, how anyone could have imaged them to be witches was beyond me. The other two were completely different. The one with the baby, so very young, not more than seventeen, dark haired with grey eyes that had seen too much pain beyond her years.

The last of them, an old bent woman who could not have been less than seventy when she went to the fire. She may have looked the part of a witch, grey streaked hair, hanging in dirty unkempt clumps around her shoulders – but her only crime was being old.

My name is Alison MacDonald, I am a descendant of Hamish MacDonald, a cruel man who caused you great harm - but I am also the descendant of Jean MacDonald, who tried to help you. We have his blood in us but not his cruelty. Please come in from the cold and warm yourselves.” Anticipation gripped my senses. I swallowed hard and stood to one side as the women walked passed me into the cottage.

My aunt frozen with fear, sat upright in her chair, unmoving, as the macabre quartet formed a semi-circle around her.

She looked over to me, a solitary tear began to journey down her face as she said, “I lied. There was no medium. I just wanted this to end. And there's something else you need to know.”

Before she could finish saying what it was, the women turned to me and said,“You are no MacDonald.”
My aunt nodded, “Your mother couldn't have children.” It was one helluva way to find out I was adopted.

We are Margaret and Ellen Curran.” The two who looked to be sisters said.

I am Mary Douglas.” Said the old woman.

I am Flora Murry, my son would have been Ian.”

We have come for justice against the last line of Hamish MacDonald.” They all said together.

Even though the fire blazed with a yellow blue ferocity, an intense cold enveloped the room. I felt the undiluted white fury of their souls, wraiths of the underworld consumed by vengeance had come for my aunt – and I had let them in.

No. You won't take her. Not while I've got anything to say about it, you won't.” I had a sudden understanding of what was about to happen to my aunt.

If I couldn't stop them before the clock struck midnight, they would take my aunt's soul down into hell.

I rushed a glance up at the mantel, I had ten minutes before the clock reached midnight.
Snatching one of my aunt's crutches I hit wildly outwards with the it, aiming at the nearest witch to me.

By luck I got a direct hit on Flora, she doubled over clutching at her stomach in pain.

Taking my lead, from her sitting position in the chair, my aunt stabbed at them with the other crutch.

It's the night of all hallows.” My aunt shouted swishing her crutch in mid-air, “It's the only night they can take human form, and the only night we can fight them.” She laughed at the crazy understanding that for all years the MacDonalds had lived in fear of Halloween, it was the one night they could have rid themselves of their curse.

Flora stumbled backwards towards the fire, I saw my chance, and took it. I lunged at her. Catching her squarely in the middle, I pushed her into the roaring fire. The flames leapt to embrace her, consuming her body in a spiral of thick brackish green smoke.

With a mind to the ticking clock, I wasted no time in attacking the other three. This time is was not so easy. They weren't going to go anywhere near the fire. My aunt, bless her, had other ideas.

Pulling herself up from the chair, she balanced her side against the armrest and continued to stab at the three women surrounding her, pushing them back from her, and closer to the hearth.

Intend on my aunt, and seemingly forgetting about me, I managed to give Mary Douglas a heavy crack across the back of her head. She was the next one that went with the help of the crutch into the fire.

There we were, the four of us. Both sides intend on the final end of the other.

The short hand on the clock was perilously close to midnight. If I didn't do something and quick, my aunt would be lost to the real world forever. There are times in your life when something so extraordinary happens that you find a strength you never knew you had. This was one of those times.

Out from somewhere I found a strength, I didn't know I had. Three minutes to midnight.

I threw the crutch away from me and grabbed hold of the two sisters. Digging my fingers firmly onto their arms, I drank deeply from that unseen thing that gives you a strength far beyond your norm, and hurled them one after the other into the crackling flames.

We watched, my aunt and I, as the things that had once been human women were consumed by the fire just as the clock on the mantel touched midnight.

After that night. My aunt Jeanette, sold the cottage, and came to live with me in London.

Will the all hallows witches no longer seek revenge? I'm not so sure. It's become a tradition with my aunt and I, to spend Halloween together, we drink black coffee and stay awake until after midnight – listening to the sound of whispered moans just outside our front door. The door with the bolts and the runes written across it.

thanks for reading this post
Josephine Sanchez Vanner

Half Blood – Turning the Pages Magazine, 2013 Adventure Book of the Year & 2013 Paranormal Book of the year.

Award winning novel about alien vampires from a distant galaxy, who are the good guys.

The Warlock's Woman. A beautiful psychic, an evil warlock and a sexy ghost. A love triangle with an unexpected twist at the end.

Get Slim Stay Slim – Permanently - shows you in an easy to follow way, the secret to reducing unwanted weight permanently and ending the misery of yo-yo dieting.

The blog, for the book, with on going help and ideas on how to maintain continuous weight reduction.

Halloween pictures courtesy of

Tuesday, 14 October 2014

The Devil's Randy Daughters

The Devil's Randy Daughters

From the moment their sextuplets were born, Mr and Mrs Daniel Dewar, thought the sun shone out of their little darlings. Their daughters, Pearl, Coral, Ruby, Jade, Amethyst, and Amber, could do no wrong.

Six pairs of newborn, jet black baby eyes looked up, with what their their parents thought was love, when in actual fact it was utter contempt.

The older they got the more alike they became, until it was impossible to tell them apart. They grew into six identical images of each other.

Peas in a pod.” Their father would proudly announce when talking about his daughters. He saw them as six lovely angelic angels, and not what they really were. Six evil monsters with no regard for anyone or anything, except their own perverted pleasures. Whilst it was true, they were physically beautiful, their souls were as ugly as the devil they sprouted from.

His wife, Crystal, and the mother of this demonic troop, unfortunately for her sake, began to suspect otherwise. As her daughters grew from six boisterous children into six unpleasant women with a dangerously dark side to them, the curtain of a mother's unconditional love fell from her eyes.

She watched in dismayed impotence as they developed, into creatures with wild moods, and even wilder tastes. Her husband saw none of this. It was why one dark night as Mr Dewar, slept in-front of the television, his daughters hatched a plan to rid themselves of their troublesome mother.

The Dewar family lived in a pleasant suburban neighbourhood, in a charmingly small English market town, in a county that was famous only for it's strong tasting cheese. Into this idyllic, and unsuspecting community, eighteen years earlier, the devil had impregnated Mrs Dewar, as she dreamed about her favourite movie star, and her husband lay in comatosed sleep beside her.

Eighteen years later, Mrs Dewar, had taken to going to church. She felt the need for protection from a higher authority other than her husband, who was clearly not capable of protecting her from their own daughters. God she hoped would fill in the gap. It was on one such Sunday that her six daughters had chosen to kill their mother with a large axe taken from their father's tool shed.

After consulting the book of spells their father the devil, not Mr Dewar, had given them for their eighteenth birthday present, the sisters with newly acquired skill, flew their broomsticks onto the church roof, and waited for their mother. Carefully laying down a carpet of nettle leaves, preventing the hallowed sanctity of the roof from burning their pert bottoms they sat and waited for the morning service to finish.

One by one the congregation filed out of the church, thanked the vicar for his wonderful service, and left via the local pub, to go home and eat as much Sunday lunch as they could before falling asleep in front of the television.

Finally after a long and anxious wait, on the part of her daughters, Crystal Dewar having prayed her final plea to the almighty, also gave her thanks to the vicar, and began to walk the mile and a half to her house.

A lazy woman by nature, Crystal decided to take the short cut through the woods. Just as her daughters knew she would. Swooping low the sextuplets skimmed the tree tops, keeping pace with their unsuspecting mother. Halfway on her journey she reached a clearing in the middle of the densely tree covered wood. Breathless from walking she took a moment to rest on a fallen moss covered tree. As her daughters knew she would.

Whilst their mother got her breath back they drew lots to see who would get the pleasure of the first blow with the axe. Then they took it in turns to wallop her upon her head. Amber got the first whack, then Jade. After her came Pearl, then Amethyst, followed by Ruby, and then finally Coral. When they had finished Crystal Dewar not longer looked quite like she used to.

As the blood gushed out of her many head wounds, Crystal Dewar lamented that God must be busy else where.

It was decided that rather than bury their mother's body, and as they too were all rather hungry for Sunday lunch, they would eat her instead.

Six witches, with wands that zapped lasers made fast work of cutting up their mother's corpse. Having carefully wrapped the remaining parts in cling-film, and storing them in the freezer, the girls cooked the torso of their now dead mother in the large oven of her kitchen range.

She fitted nicely, as they knew she would.

The delicious smells of roasting flesh, drew their father away from his usual seat in front of the television. His nostrils twitching with hoggish anticipation, he sat down at the dining table to unknowingly eat his wife. As his daughter's knew he would.

As Daniel Dewar, tucked into his wife's belly, he complimented his children on their cooking skills, and gave no thought to his missing wife. He had never tasted anything so scrumptious as the food now sitting on his plate, inviting him to consume as much of it as he could. He ate as a man possessed, which he was. Enslaved by the black magic spell his daughter's had cast on the food before him. He ate like a starving man. He could not stop. The more he ate the more he wanted.

Carve me more meat.” He ordered. The sisters watched in disgust as with drooling saliva running down his chin, he shovelled in a frenzy of gluttony, mouthful after mouthful of his dead wife into his seemingly cavernous stomach.

He ate until there was nothing left to eat, pushed back his licked clean plate, patted his now distended belly, clutched at his heart, and keeled over – dead from greed. As his daughter's knew he would.

Their parents now safely out of the way. The Dewar sisters began to put into action their devilish plans to cause chaos in the small market town where they were born. Their home town famed only for it's strong tasting cheese was about to become infamous for something quite different.

Murder and mayhem.

A list was drawn up of suitable candidates for murder. It was unanimously agreed that the goody-goody vicar would be the first to go. It was this saintly man who comforted Crystal Dewar, in what he thought was a delusional terror for her off-spring. His habit of an afternoon stroll among the graves in his churchyard, an open grave and a handy shovel, sealed his fate.

Always enjoyable visiting with mother, don't you think?” Ruby observed dryly with more than a hint of sarcasm.

Having disposed of their parents, and the vicar the sisters went next for the teachers who had taught them at the private school for girls they were forced to endure. Starting with the headmistress, 
Miss Clarissa Jones, they worked their way through the long list, leaving only one teacher alive.

Miss Honoria Stone, the chemistry teacher was saved from their murderous attentions. They liked Miss Stone, and uncharacteristically for the sisters, when the school summarily dismissed her for unteacher like behaviour, they felt sorry for her. Beating her students with a stick, and enjoying it far too much had met with the headmistress's strong disapproval. It had put Miss Clarissa Jones at the top of their list. The sisters, never on the receiving end of Miss Stone's punishments, considered they had a lot to thank her for. Without the lessons learned at her sadistic tutelage, of such things like the periodic table, and the reactions of certain chemicals. Deciphering the book of spells would have been a whole lot harder. She had given her six favourite students the ability to cast spells.

But then she knew she had.

Ingenious and devious ways to kill off their intended victims were devised, and all would have gone well, if it hadn't been for the neighbours next door selling their house, and getting as far way away from the remaining members of the Dewar family, as they could.

The sisters were half way through their list of murderees when a new neighbour caught all six attentions as he swaggered, muscles rippling, up the garden path.

They had all been too busy thwacking that fateful Sunday, to hear their mother's final short prayer. “Please God send down an avenging angel.”

If they had paid more attention ----- well they didn't, and it was a good thing too. Otherwise how many more of us poor mortals would have met an untimely end?

The angel Michael had his orders. Kill the devil's spawn. Get back up to heaven. Don't let anyone down on Earth know what was going on.

Handsome among the celestial clouds, with the exception of the arc angel Gabriel, Michael was everything you'd expect an angel should be. He was kind, considerate, loyal to his leader, and had good intentions toward man's well-being. He also possessed a passionate hatred toward the demonic forces of evil that was thought, even in heaven, as zealous.

Crystal Dewar's plea for help against Satan's offspring, did not go unheard. It was thought that Michael's enthusiasm to rid Earth and the heavens of anything to do with hell, would help him get the job done quickly, without fuss, and without the inquisitive nature of man getting in the way.

All this was unknown to the sisters, as noses pressed up against the glass of their ex-parents front window, Pearl, Coral, Ruby, Jade, Amber, and Amethyst Dewar, drooled, never guessing that the beautiful young man who had just moved in next door had come to destroy them. They saw what they wanted to see. A tall handsome, delectably layable, penis on legs or rather hanging roughly, or so they thought, at the top of a tight arse and a pair of powerful thighs.

As is the way with angels, everyone sees what they want to see.

Pearl lusted after the blond haired, blue eyed, three foot tall midget.

Coral, took one look at the rugged stubble chinned, muscle bound Neanderthal that filled his torn jeans and checked shirted to bursting point, and knew, he was all she would ever want in a man.

Ruby could not believe that the vision of loveliness, swathed in rippling fat, and with an undeniably strong odour of male sweat, had come to live next door.

Jade's eyes bulged as she watched the soft featured, coyly demure creature of perfect femininity, pout her moist lips as she glided gracefully into her house.

Amber and Amethyst, having similar tastes in their sexual partners gazed with awestruck wanderlust throbbing between their legs, at the hairy orang-utan, and silver back gorilla, loping along the path.

The one thing they all had in common. Their sexually desperate tongues were hanging out of their sexually frustrated mouths. And to a girl, each sister decided they just had to have the guy next door.

Very soon a distance began to develop between the sisters, and a chasm of bitter mistrust opened. The Dewar sister's perfect coven of togetherness, thanks to the angel Michael, began to disintegrate in a torrent of bitterness fuelled by jealous rivalry.

The problem was that although the devil had filled his unborn daughters with all the knowledge they needed to succeed as evil demons of the black occult. It didn't occur to him that their education, whilst still in the womb, should include how to deal with an angel bent on annihilating his satanic spawn. The devil in his arrogance hadn't instilled in his daughter's monstrous minds that the forces of good would want to destroy his evil progeny – i.e. Them.

As I've said, when looking at angels, people see what they want to see. The girls did not see Michael, in his true self but only their own depraved visions of what constituted the perfect shag.

Exactly what Michael intended. Angels can be devious when they want to be.

If their education hadn't have been incomplete, they would have known this. They would also have known that as an angel, he too was incomplete. When it came to the necessary tackle needed to give his six lusting fans, the ultimate orgasms they were hoping for, they were out of luck. In a word, although he looked male, and in many respects was, as an angel he was also – sexless. Possessing neither the required physical attributes or the mind set to go with his heavenly beauty.

One evening after a particularly nasty argument, the sisters agreed to take it in turns at seducing the sexually desirable new neighbour. As they had no idea who was the eldest sister, taking their names in alphabetical order seemed to be the fairest, starting with Amber. It was also agreed that should the sister who's turn it was, fail, she would leave the district to give the next one a even chance of success.

Carrying a large basket of fruit, strongly biased towards bananas. Amber knocked on Michael's front door. Amber, of course had no idea what she was dealing with when she pushed forward her basket into the willing hands of Michael.

Nor did she realised why their new neighbour seemed genuinely pleased to see her. Amber turned, and waved in triumph as her watching sister's gasped with envious dismay.

An angel is an all seeing immortal. Try as you might, you cannot hide your true nature from angels. He saw no beauty in her smouldering dark eyes or her long black hair. The sensuousness of her curvaceous body meant nothing to him. He saw her for what she was – the devil's daughter.

With a double meaning smile, he invited the unsuspecting Amber into his angelic lair, whilst at the same time, thanking his boss for this unexpected gift. It had been Michael's intention to wait until about 4.30 am, the following morning, and dispatch his quarry as they slept. Job done – bish bosh – fast and furious – back home in time for tea.

It's a lot less troublesome to send the daughters of Beelzebub back to daddy if they don't see you coming.

Amber mistook the angel's welcoming smile for pleasure at her coming to see to see him, “Oooo... you are a beast.” She cooed entangling her fingers in what she thought was thick orange fur.

The father hath said, thou shalt not lay down with beasts.” Michael quoted.

I don't intend to lay. I want you upright against the wall or better still on all fours. Fancy a banana?” The reference to his father, and beasts going straight over her head, Amber held the yellow fruity dildo aloft. Suggestively laying the innuendo on thick, she slowly peeled the banana's outer skin back.

I can do the same for you. Peel away your skin that is.” Amber giggled.

Thou hast defiled the earth with thy presence. I shall render thee unto thy father.”

Of course, Amber had no idea what he was talking about. She thought it was some kind of dirty foreplay talk, and began taking her clothes off.

Give it to me. Give me your all.” She panted stripped down to her skimpy thong style panties. She wanted sex with this furry Adonis, and she wanted it there and then.

The angel Michael did as she asked, he gave her his all. He unfurled his angel's wings, and with one mighty blow sent Amber down into the depths of hell to meet her demonic father.

It had been agreed that just to make sure the coast was clear, the next sister in line would wait twenty four hours before trying her luck.
Amethyst gave it forty five minutes before the impatience gnawing at her, had her knocking on Michael's front door.

Desperate to lay down with the beast, she reckoned her and Amber's similar tastes in anthropoid bed partners, would, in all likelihood mean a threesome was a dead cert.

Michael opened the door to Amethyst with the same inviting smile he had given to Amber. As soon as she was inside, he wasted no time in dispatching her to meet her father, and sister back home in hell.

Pearl, Coral, Ruby, and Jade's suspicions were aroused. They had seen their sisters go into the house next door, they had not seen their sisters come out again – but they had seen Michele walking down the road whistling with a basket of fruit in his hands.

They had until then, assumed the three were having the most wonderful, sexually explosive, rumpy-pumpy of all time. Their suspicions aroused, they did what all curious women, satanic or otherwise, would do. They followed him. They trailed behind him all the way to the local children's home where he left the basket. Then they spent the next five hours outside their mother's old church, whilst Michael, was inside.

Something, they decided was very wrong. And something, had to be done about it. They weren't bothered by the loss of their sisters, in fact they were rather pleased that a large slice of the competition was now out of the picture. What bothered them the most was that their new neighbour liked God. Generally speaking they mused, people who went to church were not that interested in the devilish side of things. It was a bit of a worry.

So - whilst Michael was inside the church reporting on his progress to the office. The Dewar sisters conversed outside, on how to get the object of their desires to desire them.

They decided to invite him to dinner. After all there was still a large portion of their mother left in the freezer. What was it she used to say? Oh yes. Waste not want not. So, they also decided not to waste her.

Returning from the uplifting conversation with his boss, Michael found, as he knew he would, in his letter box an invitation to dine with his neighbours. The note hoped he wasn't a vegetarian.

A great believer in, 'it's better to kill four devils with one blow', Michael gladly accepted, arriving promptly a 7pm, as per instructions.

The smell of roasting parent, filled his angelic nostrils with equal measures of disgust, and determination to have before the evening was over, the remaining four daughter's of the devil barbecuing in hell.

Smiles were exchanged all round, glasses were filled, and an attempt at small talk, by the girls, began.

Michael's nose started to itch, inflamed by the increasingly heavy aroma of Crystal Dewar's body parts cooking in the oven. Immediate action was called for. A mighty swipe of his wings, and oblivion for the creatures dancing attendance on him was the obvious solution to his problem.

The sextuplets earthly father had been a thrifty man. Whilst he could have afforded to buy the larger more expensive house next door, he chose to save his miser's pocket, and purchase the smaller version, thus saving several thousands of pounds, none of which he ever shared with the rest of the family. The limited span of the living room, now filled with demonic temptresses, and an avenging angel, made opening said angel's mighty wings to full stretch impossible. This unforeseen obstacle meant a mighty blow was out of the question.
The six Dewar sisters twinned each other in every physical detail - but their nasty depraved habits were uniquely their own.

Where as Amber enjoyed a good shag with an ape or a monkey, and a cigarette afterwards. Amethyst preferred eating her bed partners after having sex. Secretive by nature, she told no one of her taste for the raw mammalian flesh that she consumed in great quantities, not because she was ashamed, but out of fear that her sisters might want some too.

Jade, her usual sexual dish, was the warm and wet, not on four legs sort, pussy. Men were, if there wasn't an available woman around, something she put up with. Her dislike of a man's cock was robustly surpassed by her love of a woman's vagina. When the feminine objects of her desires were unwilling to participate in her sadomasochistic games involving chains, whips and latex, Jade closed her eyes and pretended the man she was dominating was really a woman in a man's inadequate skin.

Pearl consumed by an arrogance that mere mortals were all beneath her. She looked down on humanity, and soothed her revulsion of them by having sex with someone who was too short to look into her eyes, as he pumped his vigorous all under her.

Ruby had no such qualms about height or gender. Nor was she species specific, so long as they were fat she was interested. And not just a little fat. Mordantly obese pushed her buttons. The more mordantly obese, the harder her buttons got pushed.

As for Coral, she loved rough sex, preferably with truck drivers. Several, who assured her they could pleasure her all night, had driven away after a night of her passionate abuse, barely able to walk. If she had her way, she told herself, Michael would have to crawl home, scrapping the ground with his belly.

Limited for space to administer his mighty blow, Michael hesitated to send Coral off to daddy. She was not so shy. The instant the door clicked shut when her sisters went into the kitchen, Coral was like a rat up a drainpipe. She pounced. Launching a full frontal assault on Michael's body, Coral made a grab for the manly bits she so longed to feel thrusting away inside her.

Disappointment wasn't in it. Coral howled with a rage filled anger at the missing objects of her desire that would have woken the dead. She didn't waken the dead, nor did her sisters respond to her howls of anguish. They mistakenly took the screeching of their sister as the whoop of a sister getting something they weren't. Grinding their teeth with jealousy they furiously basted with spitting hot fat, the nicely browned flesh of their mother. The hot spitting fat of her once plump body mirroring how they felt.

Michael, an angel of action, decided there was no time to waste. If he couldn't give the bitch a full smite of heavenly wrath, a lesser smote would have to do. He smote. Coral disintegrated in a puff of demonic smoke and went, like her sisters before her, to meet daddy.

As angels never dined on human food, preferring ambrose and nectar, the need for speed in sending the devil's witches into oblivion was evident by the smell of post roasted, ready for the table, mother.
That and Michael had just about had enough of the devil's randy daughters.

It had been several centuries since he was last on earth, and it was obvious to him that he was rather out of touch. The six sexually rampant, stunningly beautiful, voluptuous Dewar sisters, looking nothing like the wart ridden hags he'd expected, were a shock. He wanted to go home.

Need some help?” An unexpected voice enquired. Dressed in 18th century highwayman garb, a seedy looking, hoping to pass for a gentleman, and not making it, tallish man with a pock marked face materialized on the spot Coral had just departed from.

Who are you?” Michael quizzed the suddenly appeared.

I'm a guardian angel.”

You what? I know all the angels in heaven, and I've never met you before. Who are you? Why are you here?”

Reasonable questions. Okay so you got rid of the three other sisters on your own, but do you really think you can take on the last three of the devil's spawn without some help? Especially in such confined quarters as this cramped room.” The new guardian angel replied.

Who sent you?”

The answer was elusive, “The boss.”

Whose boss?”


Ah but not mine I'm thinking.” Michael countered.

Never said it was yours - did I squire? You don't think Satan is about to let you thwart his plans. I'm here to stop you smiting his girls back to hell. So piss off and leave the young ladies alone.” The demon snarled annoyed his disguise had been so easily seen through.

To call those repulsive creatures, young ladies, was an overstatement. Michael was about to point it out, when Satan's little helper lunged at him with a red hot pitchfork.

He did what any sensible angel would do, he buggered off back next door to think of a new strategy.


In the battle between good and evil. Good generally wins. This inevitable outcome was not lost on Dick. It was how he had got to be a demon in the first place. He was evil. The county sheriff of York, who arrested him, wasn't. The hangman who tightened the rope around his neck, in Dick's option, was as evil as he was, but the crowd cheering for his demise thought otherwise.

The highwayman Dick Turpin, had lived in an age when justice for the wicked was dispensed at the end of a hangman's noose. Like Michael, it had been awhile since he had been allowed back on earth, and he had every intention of making the most of the few precious hours he'd been given.

Shagging all three of the remaining Dewar sisters at the same time, as far as he was concerned, would definitely constitute making the most of it. When he was alive, Dick considered himself to have a well deserved reputation as a ladies man. He had no intention of letting these particular ladies down, after all, he had no idea when the opportunity to show off his prowess would present itself again.

Cooeee...” Three voices trilled from the dining room.

Sometime later a satiated demon wiped the dribbled gravy from his mouth, and said with appreciation, “She was delicious. How about the four of us having wild uncontrollable sex together?”

Demons, just like angels, have the ability to show themselves in the form that is most pleasing to whoever it is, who wants to be pleased.

Jade, Pearl and Ruby, shot delighted glances at each other, nodded agreement, stripped naked, and ran squealing with anticipated pleasure up the stairs to their departed parents double bedded room.

Dick by name – dick by nature.” The highwayman turned demon commentated as he pushed, his substantial pleasure weapon, as hard as he could up Ruby's warm wet, awaiting pussy.

On all fours, backside upwards, Ruby climaxed soon after the first few thuds of Dick's, vast, fat rolled belly hit her jutting buttocks. As he thrust away, she revelled in each flap of his mountainous flesh against the tight smoothness of her own.

A couple of hundred years without sex, was, as far as Dick was concerned, going to take a lot of satisfying, and as he was on a time schedule, he got down to business as fast as he could. Not easy when who've got three insatiable sexual fiends to satisfy.

Whilst Ruby recovered, he gave Jade what she had been waiting for. He let her lick him in the places she thought was a woman's erogenous zone. Dick had enjoyed oral sex when he was alive. Not that he got it much. Living at a time when bathing had not been considered necessary that and being on the run from the law didn't allow for a lot of washing. Women, even smelly ones were often put off by the pong of his unwashed nob-head. He lay back on the pillow, arms behind his head and enjoyed the sensuous sensation of Jade's tongue, lips and open mouth giving him her all. The irony that she thought she was sucking pussy made the moment that bit more special.

Hoy – it's my turn.” Pearl complained yanking Jade back with a sharp tug of her long black hair. Not giving Jade a second chance she clambered on top of the little man her sister had been so enthusiastically sucking off.

Whilst happy to let Pearl think he was 3 foot tall. He refused to include his penis in the deal. Dick kept his dick's well endowed length, which surprised and delighted Pearl.

For such a little man you are oh so BIG.” She enthused at the jumbo sized proportions of the highwayman's engorged weapon. Her eyes widened almost as much as her legs, as he showed her exactly how jumbo sized his weapon was.

Many sexually rampant hours after they'd jumped into bed, with the women finally satisfied, and his weapon out of ammunition, Dick Turpin, fell into a deep sleep of the sexually exhausted. Lost in the carnal pleasures of his charges, the mission to watch over, and keep safe the sisters now sleeping the same exhausted sleep beside him, forgotten. The danger of an angel bent on wiping from the face of existence all of the devil's spawn, was completely wiped from his feckless self-centred 18th century highwayman's mind.


Angels were the strong. They never slept. Angels had right on their side.

Demons on the other hand were weak minded and indolent. And they definitely didn't have right on their side.

Michael held these comforting thoughts as he unfurled his wings on the front lawn of the Dewar house, and rose majestically up into the air. He hovered, eye level with the ex-parents bedroom window, where in sexual contentment, unaware of the danger outside bliss, the daughter's of Satan, and a dead highwayman lay loudly snoring.

With the enthusiasm of the true zealot, the angel Michael called out to the almighty as he drew from his inner soul the greatest smite he'd ever smote.

Dark clouds rolled in the heavens, a storm of torrential rain fell, thunder clashed and lightening bolts dashed blue and yellow across the early morning sky. All this of course, was only happening over the Dewar's house. The rest of the sleeping town, slept on, never knowing of the battle between heaven and hell, happening in their midst.

A white light of purest intensity shone out from Michael's goodness, “Take that.” He yelled shattering the window glass, and sending the last of the wicked Dewar sisters back to daddy.


In another part of the town, Susan D'eath dreamed of her imaginary lover. He was tall, dark and handsome. He spoke soft words and caressed her where she longed to be caressed. Not for him, the quick in and out of a husband who puffed and panted till he was done, then rolled over to sleep, his selfish, satisfied sleep, leaving his wife to wonder what was the point of sex. Her night lover took his time as he brought her to the first orgasm she'd ever had. Six times he brought her to a climax. Such wonderful memories she would cherish – until the day she died.

It was a funny thing, no one in their family had ever had so much as twins, let alone, sextuplets, Susan's mother remarked the day Susan D'eath's daughters were born.

The same day as the late Dewar sisters birthday.
October 31st. - Halloween.

thanks for reading this post
Josephine Sanchez Vanner

Half Blood – Turning the Pages Magazine, 2013 Adventure Book of the Year & 2013 Paranormal Book of the year.

Award winning novel about alien vampires from a distant galaxy, who are the good guys.

The Warlock's Woman. A beautiful psychic, an evil warlock and a sexy ghost. A love triangle with an unexpected twist at the end.

Get Slim Stay Slim – Permanently - shows you in an easy to follow way, the secret to reducing unwanted weight permanently and ending the misery of yo-yo dieting.

The blog, for the book, with on going help and ideas on how to maintain continuous weight reduction.

Pictures courtesy of