The lonely virgin lit the pumpkin at the window and lay alone, waiting again.
A year since the phantom’s last visit.
She wakes deep in the night, his body touching every part of her.
Tingling, thrilling, teasing, tantalising, touching secret places.
No weight upon her, no face to kiss, no sound or scent.
Her body is consumed by desire, a feeling so foreign to her.
Her head spins as she convulses, her heart pounding, her legs trembling, and then he is gone.
She sleeps soundly.
No trace of him exists, except the baby at her breast and his un-borne sibling.
