FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Fifty-five years later.

Red wine, or white wine? Allan Drake stood there in his kitchen, hands at his hips, elbows out, staring accusingly at the two bottles sitting defiantly before him on his kitchen's butcher-block countertop. Standing six feet and two inches tall, with a toned body, crafted by countless hours of work in his smithy, the bottles would certainly have been intimidated had they possessed the capacity to do so. His grey eyes were cold yet reflective as he pondered about how many men throughout history had found themselves backed into a corner by this deceptively simple question.

Not only were the two wines made from two different types of grapes, how was he supposed to know which contained the appropriate levels of tannins, acidity, glycerin and alcohol to best complement the Ligurian Pesto with Spaghetti he was preparing for dinner? Or worse, he thought as his brows furrowed and he pensively ran his fingers through his auburn beard, what if neither actually complimented the dish? Were he and Selene doomed to remain uncultured, occasional, wine-drinkers for yet another Italian dinner night?

“What do you think, Tiger?" He looked over at the fluffy tabby cat staring at him from atop the credenza in the dining room.

Whatever Tiger's thoughts were on the matter, she was keeping them to herself.

“I can see that you're not going to be any help." he grumbled.

He'd already flipped the bottles around hoping to find a “suggested pairing" cheat on the back, but was unsurprised when he found none. This, he thought; not quite ready to admit defeat, was a job for the internet.

Allan stepped out of the kitchen to the attached dining room of the log cabin he'd inherited after the passing of his great-uncle and plucked his phone off the sturdy, hand-crafted, white oak table that gave the room it's name. Having been a carpenter by trade, his great-uncle had filled the modestly sized dwelling with an assortment of one of a kind tables, lamps and chairs that gave the place warmth and added an authentic woodsy feel to it that Allan had never found anywhere else.

There was only one door in and out of the cabin, and it was directly between the kitchen and dining room. The dining room flowed seamlessly into the modest living room, which aside from a modern TV still had the entire original, rustic, living room set his great-uncle had made. On the far side of the living room there was the master bedroom, and on the wall behind the kitchen there was a small hallway where the second bedroom, guest bathroom, and laundry room were located.

Even though the cabin's electrical wiring had been updated to modern standards, cieling fixtures had never been installed and electrical outlets were woefully in short supply, so all the rooms had to be lit with table lamps or wall sconces that had to manually be switched on and off. Being surrounded by trees, it got dark much earlier inside the cabin than it did outside, so Allan had already turned on the lamps in the living room and the sconces in the kitchen and dining room.

In addition to the electrical situation, the authentic woodsy location of the cabin in central Kentucky came at another technological price, Allan sighed ats the “no" symbol as it taunted him from the upper right-hand corner of his phone's screen, where the bars denoting signal strength should have been.

For a moment he considered walking up and down the shade covered, gravel, driveway outside until he got a signal, but realized that he'd probably never find a strong enough signal here to connect to the internet and that he'd probably wind up overcooking the noodles in the process. On top of that, Selene would be arriving any minute and if she caught him pacing the driveway while he inadvertently ruined dinner, she'd have a good laugh at his expense, and then he'd have to hear her tell the story to her mother at their next family dinner.

Allan rubbed his short, red-brown hair in frustration as he tried to think about their trip to the winery where he and Selene had gone to celebrate their engagement a few months ago.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that he could recall a few details. The white wine was made from the juice of grapes that had been pressed and then fermented, while the red wine was made by fermenting the juice along with the fruit pulp and stems. He also remembered, after being bombarded with this useless information by the vintner, that they had also taken a picture together while they drank there at the bar. A picture that, if his memory served him correctly, showed them toasting, their glasses taking front and center in front of the camera.

Selene had wanted the picture for her online photo library, and since his camera took better low-light pictures than hers did, they'd used his phone.

A smile drew across his lips beneath his neatly trimmed mustache, both at the pleasantness of the memory and at the realization that his phone wasn't going to be a useless brick tonight after all. If he couldn't find out which one of these damned beverages went best with his meal, at least he could find out which one she'd enjoy sipping on before enjoying the perfectly blended flavors of basil, garlic, pine nuts, cheese, salt and olive oil.

He quickly flipped through his recent photos, thankful that he was not very camera-happy person, until he found the one he was looking for.

Allan and Selene were both looking more bookish than usual that day. Both wore glasses, Allan's making him look more like a sophisticated, ginger, lumberjack while Selene's made her look more like a voluptuous, Japanese librarian. Her naturally straight hair was pulled back into a hasty ponytail and the obscenely bright lipstick she wore had worked just as well for the look she was pulling off as it did to mark Allan's face as her property whenever she saw fit. Most importantly, he noted as his eyes moved away from their faces and towards what they were holding in their hands, both of their glasses were filled with red zinfandel.

“Score one for me." He said smugly to the phone, giving himself a moment to bask in the glory of his own resourcefulness, before tossing his phone onto the counter.

Tiger let out a hiss at the unexpected noise but stayed where she was atop the credenza, watching Allan as he slid the bottle of white wine into the fridge. He set the bottle of red on the table then rummaged through his cupboards until he successfully retrieved two long-stem wine glasses.

He held the glasses up so that both he and the cat could see them, wondering how they'd managed to get covered in a thin layer of dust while inside a cupboard.

“Well, this won't do." He grumbled, reaching for a cloth to wipe the stemware down with.

Allan and Selene had met while they were both in their early twenties at the same vocational school in Spring Mill, KY, one of the suburban satellite towns surrounding the much larger city of Louisville, for blacksmithing classes. Both Allan and Selene had grown up in the south, though neither of them spoke with the traditional southern American accent. While Allan's parents were more traditionally “southern," he'd worked hard to lose his accent during his high-school years so he'd be taken more seriously. Selene's situation was considerably different, her father was a Japanese immigrant and her mother was born and raised in Boston, giving her an accent that Allan could only describe as being uniquely Selene

While blacksmithing turned out to be more of a hobby for Selene, it had evolved into a career for Allan. He'd installed a small forge outside the cabin a few years before and started selling his wares online. Eventually he was discovered by a set dresser in Hollywood who decided to use an assortment of his custom swords in a few of the studio's films, and the requests for work had been pouring in ever since. With the increased demand for his work, coupled with the the increased revenue it provided, Allan was eventually able to build a proper and fully equipped smithy, just down the small hill from where the cabin sat, next to an old man-made lake, where his great-uncles old tool-shed used to be.

Selene, on the other hand, had gone on to attend the University of Lousville, despite Allan's dislike of the basketball team, earning several degrees in physics and landing a job at CERN when they realized they needed more eyes to pour over the massive amounts of data they'd begun collecting from the newly opened Large Hadron Collider.

In the years following she'd become a woman who could pull the secrets of the universe out of an otherwise useless pile of data then join Allan for a beer in his smithy before insisting on taking over whatever project he was currently working on. She'd claim that it helped her unwind after staring at a screen for eight hours, but Allan suspected that she just missed working the forge and swinging heavy tools around. Even if her half Japanese heritage didn't personify it, she'd have given any country-girl a run for their money, and possibly some broken teeth.

Allan had just begun tossing the noodles with the pesto and cheese mixture and was about to ask the cat what it thought was taking Selene so long, when, as if on cue, he heard tires crunching on gravel outside.

The sound seemed to have offended Tiger's sensibilities, and she let out a low, drawn-out, moan that made the hairs on his arms stand on end.

“Jesus, cat. Why do you have to sound so creepy." He muttered as he gave all the ingredients one final mix.

He threw a serving fork into the bowl and placed the pasta it in the middle of the table before uncorking the wine. He poured them each a glass, opened up the front door, and waited for her as the warm, evening air poured into the cabin. This brought another moan from the cat, and he heard a thump behind him as she jumped down from her perch on the credenza to seek out a new hiding place.

The sun had slipped below the treeline some time ago, and the sky was beginning to darken. Usually this would bring out a symphony of crickets, but for some reason they were silent tonight.

Selene was already halfway to the cabin by the time Allan got the door open. She had her black hair pulled back into a messy, after-travel, bun, secured with a chopstick, and in her hand she carried her somewhat impractical shoes. It may have been from walking over the gravel in her bare feet, or it could have been from the long ride from the airport, but she was walking a little stiffly. As expected, she hadn't bothered getting her travel bag out of the car.

“Don't take this the wrong way," he chuckled and held out one of the glasses, “but you look like you could use a drink."

Selene sighed appreciatively and plucked the offered glass from his hand while also giving him a peck on his lips.

“You bet your sweet ass I could use a drink." She said, giving him a halfhearted slap on the ass.

It surprised him that she didn't even feign offense at his comment about her disheveled appearance. She must have been more tired than she looked.

Allan turned to lead them inside and had taken half a step when Selene stopped him.

“Wait hold on!" She said, giving him a sideways look as she studied him for a moment.

“Turn around."

“Do I have a bug on me?" He asked, swatting at his back as he turned for her.

This got her to chuckle.

“No." She said, “You've just got a nice ass."

“Really?" Was she tired or was she horny? Possibly both, he hoped.

She waved a hand as she clarified her statement. “I mean, you've always had a nice ass, but those shorts really accentuate your ass-sets."

He groaned at the pun as a smile spread across her face. Allan could tell that this was just the reaction she was expecting from him.

“You've seen me naked, I don't know how many times, but it's these shorts that get your juices flowing?"

“It leaves a little to the imagination." She said, swatting Allan on the ass, much harder this time, as she stepped past him and into the kitchen.

Allan felt a stirring in his pants and chuckled. She'd only been home for two minutes and she'd already gotten him aroused.

“You made dinner!" Selene exclaimed, relief in her voice.

Allan shut the door behind them and joined her at the table where she'd already taken a seat.

“Today has been so weird." She said, picking the bowl up off the table and doling out some of the pasta onto their plates.

“What do you mean?" He asked, taking a seat across from her and accepting the plate she handed him.

She sighed and set the bowl back down on the table.

“I don't know." She suddenly looked tired again.

Allan watched her face as she took a couple sips of wine. Her worry-lines were showing, and there was an unusual darkness below her eyes as though she hadn't slept well in a few days. After a pretty long silence, he was about to offer a change of topic when he heard the cat let out a hiss and then another long moan from their bedroom. The sound brought goosebumps to Allan's arms.

“What's wrong with Tiger?" Selene asked, her eyes darting around the living room looking for the cat.

She had goosebumps on her arms too. That cat was on a roll tonight.

“I don't know." He answered honestly, she started acting weird right before you got here."

Selene sat her glass down suddenly and stood up, startling Allan, who, for a moment wondered why what he'd said upset her.

“All afternoon I've had this feeling like someone has been watching me." She walked over to the window and pulled the curtain open, cupping her hands so she could see outside through the glare.

“At first I thought it was just some creeper on my plane, but I kept feeling it after I landed. I checked the back seat of my car and the trunk before I got inside... Even on my way here, out in the middle of nowhere, I kept checking my rearview because it felt like someone was behind me."

Allan fought back a sudden wave of disgust at the thought of someone following Selene around all day. While there were some men who would take advantage of a woman if they saw a momentary opportunity, it took a real sicko to follow someone to their home. If someone was stupid enough to follow her here tonight, Allan thought grimly, he was never going to be able to follow anyone home ever again.

She closed the curtains and turned to him, her eyes, darting suspiciously towards the bedroom door on the other side of the living room. “I know how it sounds, but will you please check the bedroom?"

“Yeah." He nodded.

Allan knew it wasn't likely that someone could have gotten in through the bedroom window without making a lot of noise, but they did usually leave it open. It was the only way to cool the bedroom at night, and someone could have cut through the screen quietly enough to not get noticed.

He pulled one of his custom-made small swords from its display-sheath above the fireplace for good measure. He not only made these weapons for a living, he also knew how to protect himself with them.

Allan considered making a sexist jab at Selene, to relieve the tension he felt coming from her, but then thought better of it. He could always poke fun at her about this tomorrow.

He flipped on the light and stepped into the bedroom. The window was open but the screen was still in place, and nothing else in the room seemed to be out of place either. He walked past the bed, where Tiger was watching him from his pillow and checked the closet. Finding nothing.

He then crouched down to checked under the bed when he heard a loud whooshing sound outside, it reminded him of the sounds a bird's wings make when they fly next to your head. The sound was quickly followed by a tremor that gently shook the house, causing the lights to flicker, the lamp on the nightstand to sway, and one of the pictures to fall off the wall.

“What the fuck was that?" He asked aloud, feeling more than a little freaked out now.

“Did you feel that?" He heard Selene ask from the other room.

He was about to answer her when the earsplitting shriek of wood splintering and glass shattering deafened him, while another tremor threw him to the floor.

Had the propane tank just exploded?

“Selene! Are you okay?" He asked, his ears ringing

Allan pushed himself back onto his feet, just in time to see Tiger bolt into the en-suite bathroom.

“You knew, didn't you." He whispered, about to call out to Selene again but stopping when he got to the bedroom doorway.

The entire kitchen and dining room were gone.

“What the fuck?" He gasped.

There was a trail of debris leading off to one side, as if a giant bulldozer had just pushed it all to the side. Somehow though, the power was still on, and the lamps, even though they had fallen over, were still working.

Selene was frozen in place, her back to him, dangerously close to the break in the floor where the dining room used to be, doubtlessly in shock over what had just happened. It was a wonder that she'd not been hit by any debris.

But what had just happened?

“Selene!" He shouted, catching the odor of something unusual on the air. lt was pungent, yet also oddly pleasant, like aged patchouli mixed with a snake's cloacal scent gland.

“Selene!" He shouted again. “Are you alright?"

He saw her shake her head as she slowly began backing towards him, then he saw it.

There was something in the darkness, he couldn't see it clearly, but it was very large, the moonlight made it glisten as though it was covered in water, it had two, red eyes that darted between him and Selene, and it was standing right where the front door should have been.

Oh gods… an uncomfortable lump formed in his stomach as he stumbled towards Selene, his legs not wanting to cooperate with him. Allan was not a religious man, but the only words that kept coming to his mind were biblical ones: “demon, monster, devil, Satan."

“Selene! Get back here!" He heard his voice, but didn't remember talking.

Allan saw the creatures red eyes rise up beyond the limited frame of view the living room ceiling offered him, but he could still see the shape of it's black body, shifting position, just outside the house.

Suddenly those demonic, red eyes were back, and staring directly at Selene.

“Selene!" Why wasn't she moving?

While he still had no idea what this thing was, his subconscious mind knew exactly what it was. It was the monster he used to think was hiding under his bed, it was the thing that went bump in the night, it was that which had no name but was known only by what it caused, it was… death.

Allan saw Death move again, this time the rest of the roof and ceiling were ripped off, parts of it crashing down around them. He felt a burning sensation coming from his arm and forehead as a slab of falling shingles threatened to take his head off, the rough texture and roofing tacks ripping at his skin. He had little doubt that he was bleeding, but at least his legs were working again.

He rushed up to Selene and put a hand on her shoulder to pull her towards him. She staggered in place and then slowly, silently, turned to him.

What he saw made his heart stop and his blood freeze.

Selene's left arm was missing at the joint, like it had been cleanly sliced off by a giant razor, it took a few painful seconds before blood began to violently spray from the stump. Her face had been gouged from her forehead, across one eye, and down to her cheek. Her eyelid over the gouged eye had been completely torn off, leaving the ruptured, unblinking, orb exposed as it slowly deflated. Selene's shirt had also been torn open, her left breast sliced in half exposing the fatty tissue inside. Another gash continued down into her abdomen, her belly flayed open, causing her insides to start leaking out.

He stumbled backwards, tripping on a fallen support beam, landing hard on the floor. Still, he couldn't tear his gaze away from the grisly sight in front of him.

If Selene hadn't still been standing there, Allan wouldn't have believed that she was still alive, or that this was even Selene. Part of his mind was desperately trying to convince him that what he was seeing wasn't real. That the woman he was engaged to wasn't in the process of being brutally murdered right in front of his eyes by some dark creature made from nightmares. That all he had to do was get away from here and everything would somehow be okay.

With the roof now gone, Allan could see Death's red eyes staring down at them from above, attached to a massive head and long neck, silhouetted against the stars, watching them with reptilian coldness.

Allan was frozen again. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't scream, all he could do was piss himself as Selene's maimed and bloodied body reached out to him with a twitching arm. Her skin was ghostly where it wasn't torn open, and her unblinking eye bore into his soul as a stream of intestines cascaded from her belly and coiled atop her feet like snakes.

He retched from equal parts horror and disgust as something the size of a car smashed through one of the remaining support beams.

It fell with sickening speed and landed atop Selene's convulsing body; crushing her into a twisted pile of blood, guts, and bones that squished out from beneath it. Through bleary eyes, Allan momentarily thought it was Selene's hatchback that had just fallen from the sky. But as he wiped the tears from his eyes, he realized that it wasn't a car at all, it was an animal's paw. Shaped similar to that of a dog's but covered in scales like a lizard, and tipped with truly wicked looking claws that, by themselves, must have been at least three feet long. This was Death's hand.

No, he suddenly realized. This wasn't death, this was a cruel monster, evil incarnate. This was Satan.

“ Oh, was this one your mate, human?" Allan heard the low, booming voice of Satan coming from all around him, immediately causing his bowels to evacuate into his shorts.

Satan's black, scaly, appendage twisted around and scraped Selene up off the floor, like she was nothing more than a pile of sawdust, her dripping blood giving the black shape depth as the devil raised it above the cabin's walls. It was only then, as he lifted his gaze up to look a second time through the hole where his roof used to be, that Allan grasped just how truly massive this creature was.

Satan's body was that of a black, winged, dragon, strait out of the book of Revelations, the size of a three-story building with shining ebony scales that reflected the white moonlight and yellow lamplight, giving it's reptilian face an even more hellish look. The dragon's face, with it's red eyes, each the size of a human head, and teeth the size of kitchen knives, was straight out of a biblical illustration. Satan could have easily picked up Allan, swallowed him whole, or squashed him as though he were an insect under his massive fist.

Satan lowered his head and sniffed at what was left of Allan's fiance in it's black, clawed hand, before using his forked tongue, like a giant, pink, anaconda, to lap up her fresh remains from his hand.

“ Little human, I almost feel sorry for you." Satan's voice purred in a deceptively, soothing, cat-like tone. “ You are not the one that I am after today, and neither was that delectable little, female morsel. But, you see, this was the only way I could get your brother's attention. He set up a pesky little protection spell around your home here, and now that I've breached it, I can kill him when he shows up to save you."

Allan was in shock, dumbfounded, and unable to say anything even if he wanted to. All he could do was watch and listen.

“ He will doubtlessly be here very soon. So, while sitting here watching you soil yourself is amusing, I must bid you goodbye."

The beast, Satan, drew in a deep breath and then open it's mouth as it exhaled a river of molten fire into what was left of the cabin.

The last thing Allan felt before darkness swept over him was his own skin popping and sizzling as it cooked in the fire, accompanied by the smell of his own burning flesh.