No, before you ask, this is not about breasts.
Whilst brainstorming some ideas for frimfram
's possible Seaside Ficathon, a drabble plopped out...
Knockers are Cornish minespirits, which are said to knock at the richest lodes. The knockers were mainly benevolent, but if ignored and neglected they could turn malicious.*
*Mine are the malicious type. :DThe Knockers by Bogwitch
(Spike/Drusilla. BtVS, Pre-series some-when. They take shelter in a Cornish tin mine...)Knock, Knock
Spike would ask ‘who’s there?’ if this was a joke.
Drusilla giggles, but she’s used to hearing the voices. “Hear that, my love? They call to us.”Knock, Knock
Those sounds again, deep underground – knocks echo down shafts like distant drums, muffled voices mutter wicked things over his shoulder……Go deeper… Lose yourself… Come closer… Don’t hide…
“They call us to the Cornish tin. Want us to die in the mine. They don’t know we’re already dead,” Drusilla whispers. “But it’s iron we want. Blood and flesh and death.”
Right now, Spike would settle for a stiff drink.
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