by Ktcam

Created on: August 08, 2011

The horn echoed through the night. It was coming for him and he knew that his fate lay in its weird and wondrous tones. A dirge for the dead heralding the arrival of the Rag and Bone man, with his own special brand of doom.
The horn got louder. Nearer.
Sweat crawled down his spine and his fear grew in intensity. He forced himself to approach the window, dreading what he might see, and as he reached out with trembling hands to part the nylon veil, he froze as he heard the sound that chilled his blood and drained the last reserves of his strength.

Gravel crunched under the weight of something immensely heavy as it made its way slowly and laboriously up the drive eventually coming to an ominous halt beneath his open window. He almost fainted with terror as the unmistakable stench of wet animal hide drifted up into his room.
He stumbled backwards, tripping over the bundle on the floor and fell down whimpering, knowing that the summons was imminent. He looked at the bundle, his heart hammering and his mind blank. Then he heard that voice and felt his bowels loosen
“Rag an' Bone...." it drawled.
Jonas whimpered like a kitten. He covered his ears with clenched, knuckle white fists.
“Rag an' Bone!" It seemed louder this time, more demanding. It was the voice of Authority.
He reached out and tentatively touched the bundle of rags. He willed himself to gather them up into his arms. He had no choice, but to go downstairs and open the door to the dark and swarthy presence of this demon.
"...Bone...” The words stretched out from a throat that sounded dry and cracked, pitted with flame. Instinctively, he swallowed, his mouth felt full of ashes.
His legs refused to flex, preferring instead to keep him crouched on the floor in a gesture of sublimation. He closed his eyes and begged a prayer to The Lord, that he should move, but he feared that The Lord had forsaken him long ago. Because of her, he had become one of the dispossessed.
Any minute now he was sure she would appear as if by magic, in the doorway and repeat her lifelong taunting of him, with her usual malice.
He stifled a whimper as he thought of her vicious verbal abuse. How often had he seen her green eyes narrow like a cat before she let loose her venom? How many times had her hands gripped his shoulders with those perfectly groomed taloned fingers, leaving bruises the size of pennies on his skin? How many times had she threatened him with just this kind of retribution? Had she

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