Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Lilian's Feast by Sarnia de la Marre. Lilian felt a
chill as she sat with her latest embroidery, a garden
of flora and insects. That was her finest achievement to date.
A black cat rubbed himself along her bare ankle. This
was a big house, lonely and austere, and she wondered
why a widow would even want to live here. Nonetheless,
(00:21):
house sitting was always interesting. Lilian was a people watcher,
always had been. There was no real involvement in life
or society. She was merely a voyeur, a passive passenger
in good faith and without expectation. Lilian was beautiful. She
wore the innocence of an English rose with modesty and
(00:41):
a gentile decency. She had never exploited her looks, preferring
to blend in with the furniture, or the landscape, or
wherever she happened to be house sitting. Next, Lilian turned
up the heating a notch and closed a large sash window,
which rattled unknown messages. A storm was brewing to the west.
There was be thunder and lightning. Soon. The cat was
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looking restless and stayed close by the embroidery was coming
along nicely as the rain hit the window panes with
ever increasing rage. Time for cocoa and cat snuggles upstairs, pusskins,
said Lilian, as she climbed the long oak staircase to
the top floor. Damn not now. The lights went out
as she approached her room. The owner had warned Lilian
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this might happen. It was a regular occurrence out here
in the countryside. She fumbled around in the dark, trying
to locate one of the many candles and matches that
the house owner had put strategically around the place. If
only she had paid more attention. Having waited a few
moments for her eyes to adjust, a candle and matches
were sourced, and Lilian felt at ease. It was spooky,
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she admitted to herself. A dark, lonely house felt quite
different in the throes of bad weather and darkness. After
reading a romance novel she had bought at the train station,
Lilian blew out the candle and nestled down under heavy
counterpanes in the four poster bed. It was carved in
wood with nymphs and ivy leaves that had made her chuckle.
(02:11):
The elderly lady who owned the house must have been
quite a trailblazer in her youth. The storm woke Lilian
suddenly from a dreamy sleep. She opened her eyes and
saw the cat staring at her, an inch from her nose,
making her jump. Jesus, you scared me, Lilian gasped and
sat up. Who's there? Lilian felt another presence in the room.
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She turned her head slowly, knowing that she did not
want to see what she feared most, a man in
her room. Don't be afraid, I am not here to
hurt you, said a voice she did not recognize. Lilian,
now petrified, turned towards the voice. Oh my god, who
the hell are you, she screamed. The stranger put his
hand over her mouth. Oh, Lilian, I am here because
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you deserve to be loved and adored. You have been chosen.
The stranger was beautiful. He wore a long red cape
and a ruffled white shirt. His eyes were dark as coal,
his strong jaw framed soft lips. Oh Lilian, he said,
as he parted her thighs and drew a hand up
to her naked crotch. You are divine. Let me in.
There was something in the stranger's being that filled Lilian
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with a deep sensual desire she had never experienced before,
and she relinquished complete control to the visitor, reaching a
sharp peak that penetrated her very soul. Oh, Lilian, I
have waited for this moment for thousands of years. Then
the stranger kissed her long, pale neck and smiled as
he penetrated her flesh and feasted on her blood, a
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long feast that Lilian took pleasure in again and again
until she was spent. In the morning, Lilian woke and
thought it was surely all a dream. Opening the red
velvet curtains brought a sharp sun into the room. Gosh,
that's bright. Where are my shades? Then looking in the mirror,
she saw the two telltale holes on her neck. Probably
(03:59):
the cat, she thought,