Fermentation by Angelica J. Page A

slowed down the gravel driveway and then came to a standstill. The engine cut and a mangot out. I ducked down into the undergrowth until he had reached the back door and let himself in. After several minutes I rose up to peer through the window, half expecting the woman to have disappeared, but she was still there, sitting impassively in the chair.
    The man entered the room. I could see he held a small bowl in one hand and had a blue towel and something darker draped over one arm. The woman did not turn round but remained staring at her reflection in the mirror. I could not tell but I did not think she even registered his entry.
    The man now stood beside her. He took out a small object from the breast pocket of his shirt. It was a razor and he proceeded to draw it up and down a leather strap. That was the object he had been carrying along with the towel. He was sharpening the razor's edge. When he had finished I saw him put the razor down and pick up the small bowl. I saw his lips move as if in speech and the woman immediately tilted her head back. She could still see herself in the mirror. The man lifted his arm and she closed her eyes. I saw his lips move again and at once she re-opened them. Then he took a small squat brush from the bowl and began to lather her face. He drew the brush over her pale cheeks and dabbed at her upper lip. He stroked under her chin. Finally, when her face was covered in the thick creamy lather, he placed the bowl and brush to one side and picked up the sharpened razor.
    He held the razor up between his fingertips, so that the woman could see the gleaming silver blade in the mirror,and then he placed its edge against the skin of her cheek and drew it down in one long, even stroke. He did this several times and each time I could feel the skin tingling down my spine.
    When it came to her neck he held her head with one hand as he poised the razor's edge at her throat with the other. Momentarily he caught her eyes in the reflection, then swiftly he moved round to the back of the chair, tilted her head right back and drew the knife up the tight skin of her neck. The woman's mouth opened as the razor pulled over her skin and her hands clasped the arms of the chair tightly.
    I could see the man was aroused. He pushed the girl out of the chair and slid it to one side. Holding the girl by her hair, he leant her body against the ledge under the mirror. With one hand he kept her pinned down, with the other he tore down her pants and unzipped his flies. His cock was fully erect and I watched as he pushed it inside her cunt, all the time keeping her face to the mirror and watching her as he shoved into her harder and harder and her soft pink tongue flicked and licked the glass. Then I saw him pick up the razor again and I watched as he raised the blade and then swiftly drew it across her throat. She slumped forward immediately like a veal calf, her legs buckling beneath her, blood spurting out and hitting the mirror, whilst at the same time the man's whole body jerked into her, making her move like a puppet. When he finally withdrew, he slipped the knife into his pocket and then, wrapping his arms around thegirl's waist, lifted her up on to his shoulders. I could see the blood was still pumping out, soaking into the man's white T-shirt. He brought her out into the garden where he laid her on top of the bonfire and then crouched down to light a match. Once the fire was alight the man walked away.
    At first the flames were small, like bright parrot tulips, but gradually they rose higher and began to lick at the girl's arms and legs and I could see how her face was melting in the shimmering heat, being devoured down to the bone.
    ‘Do you like fire?’ a voice came from behind me. I turned round to see the man standing by the bushes. ‘You can't see properly from there. Why don't you move closer?’ he said, taking me by the arm. He walked me across the lawn and then stopped at some distance from the fire.