The Beast of Barlowe

An excerpt from The Beast of Barlowe

Gretchen slipped part-way into the water, trying to be quiet. She didn't want his lordship or her ladyship—or the other servants, for that matter—to catch her bathing.

The lagoon was quite cool, but fine for soothing the summer heat. Gretchen pushed back her auburn hair and prepared to dive under water.

Just then, a peculiar scraping sound caught her ear....

She froze, utterly paralyzed with terror. The creature was astounding; mind-numbing; a head like an enormous snake with a lizard-like body that stretched many feet, tapering to a serpentine tail that twitched from side to side at the surface of the water.

The fabled Beast of Barlowe slithered toward her, eyes black as death, fangs wet, a fat red tongue tasting the air. It rose up as it approached, up on its hind legs like a man—or more like a bear or an ape: clumsy and crude, but all the more huge and ominous for it.

Beneath its sickly pale belly, an unmistakable shape appeared: a long, slender, pink probe jutting out of a sheath of skin, with a pair of human-like balls dangling underneath. The creature's enormous prick bobbed like a spear; it's forelegs reached out for her.

At last, Gretchen overcame her awful panic and unleashed a blood-curdling scream.