Ciguapa, by Chad A. Clark
Hidalgo tossed the empty wine glass to the side and took the walking path, down from the plantation, along the winding bend, and up the slope that led to the mountains looming above. It was when he passed the thick grove of trees that he heard the sound of the woman singing. The rich tones floated out to him like sweet perfume and he felt like he had been tethered, drawn forward for a closer look. The woman had her back to him and at first he couldn’t tell what she was doing, but it looked like some kind of exotic, sensual yoga. He admired her body as she twisted and contorted herself into various positions, evidently oblivious to his presence.
He took another step forward and stepped on a branch, the sound filling the grove and shattering the moment, or so he thought. She turned to look back at him and in an instant, his entire universe could have been contained within those two giant, glistening eyes. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and even as he tried to speak, he knew that his vocal cords wouldn’t be up to the test.
While she was clearly naked, she had somehow wrapped her long strands of hair around her body to give the illusion of clothing. He felt himself stepping closer, drawn in by his need, his desire for her. Her lips seemed to turn up into a smile of invitation and possibility, while the swell of her breasts made his breath start to run short. She held her arms out to him and there had never been any place that he wanted to be as badly as this. He wanted to pull her to him, sweeping aside the voluminous hair as he pressed his body against hers.
His fingers were just about to brush against that smooth skin when, in an instant, the whites of her eyes blazed and were replaced with the bright blow of unearthly rage and vengeance. The lips that had looked so soft and seductive now peeled back to reveal a row of razor sharp teeth, already stained in what looked like crusted blood.
The thing was on him in an instant, shrieking so loudly that it looked like the trees themselves trembled from the sound. The hands that had once seemed so soft, were now claws, ripping into his arms, taking flesh and tissue with them as they pulled. He screamed, knowing full well that there was no way anyone at the plantation could hear him over the din of the party.
He screamed again, regardless, as the pain pushed away all rational thought, and the darkness in the shadows around him started to swell. Taking one long, distorted look at the woman as she crouched over him, tearing into the meaty part of his thigh, all he could hope was that he would pass out before she got much further into her meal.
For more short fiction, check out Chad’s books : A SHADE FOR EVERY SEASON (available in paperback, eBook and audiobook) and TWO BELLS AT DAWN (available in paperback and eBook)