The larger story consisted of a fantasy setting wherein a small town was being invaded by zombies a la 'Night of the Living Dead'. The thread was titled "The Peril of Sweetgrove" and I may have been the one who instigated it. I can't remember anymore and the forum it was on has gone the way of internet oblivion. But enjoy!
Back in the dark of night a stealthy figure hopped from his horse and stole into an abandoned barn on fast feet. Kellar Maycroft was a noteworthy man for any number of reasons, but primarily for his singlehanded effort to cuckold every man from Melverton to Sweetgrove.
He had all the right talents for the job, a dashing figure, handsome looks, a rich deep voice and a natural charm that seemed to make the ladies just a little crazy around him. But this was not his only calling. His actual occupation was quite crucial to the functioning of the region. He was an official messenger running packages, letters, official documents and decrees from one town to the next and then back again. The task suited him just fine and even moreso when he had his choice of welcome beds to sleep in each night.
On this particular night he'd had arrangements with one particular lady, a ravenous woman who needed the job done just right. Mabel Nevin was the wife of Clay Nevin, the Mayor of Sweetgrove. It wasn't his first time arranging a tryst with the woman. She couldn't exactly invite him home. The plan was for her to tell her husband that she was off visiting her sister in Morningwood and then she would instead meet Kellar in an abandoned barn on the edge of the woods.
He started unbuttoning his jacket as he stepped into the darkness of the building. His heart was already racing with anticipation. Mrs. Nevin was a wild woman. She wasn't apt to let him leave for several hours. It was a difficult job, but someone had to do it.
He made his way by touch to the their customary "bungalow". It was little more than a cozy stall with fresh blankets strewn about.
"I'm here Mabel." He called to the darkness and slipped into the stall grinning.
He shrugged off his jacket and pulled his shirt off over his head. He was quite proud of his physique. He was relatively young by the standards of some, or at least younger than the husbands of the wives he so adored. Brown hair disheveled from brisk riding down the road, a slight tan from being out so much. And yes, he was vain, but who wouldn't be?
A low woman's moan issued from elsewhere in the darkness.
"Oh ho! getting started without me eh?" Kellar called out in jest. Not that I mind... He added inwardly. I'll have you making sounds like that all night, dear heart.
There was another moan, this one closer.
"I'm nearly ready for you honey." He called again. "Where's that blasted lantern anyway?" He dropped his trousers and settled down into the blankets.
He felt a woman's hands groping up his legs. "Heh hmmm." He said relaxing a little. His back had been feeling a little stiff after the long ride to get here and it felt good to lay down. "I've been thinking about you all the way here darling." He said with a sigh.
She crept up his body. He could feel her pawing over his legs and--what was that? She nipped at him.
"Ah hah! You frisky wench." He cackled. "Get over he-" His words were suddenly stopped dead in his throat by the sudden realization that she had just sunk her teeth into the soft flesh of his inner thigh.
Kellar Maycroft screamed.
He reached to grab her head to try and pull her off him and felt the sticky bloody mess that was her head clinging to him, trying to bite a chunk of flesh from his leg. He screamed again and hunted for something to defend himself with.
Unfortunately, during one of their previous trysts they had removed anything sharp, uncomfortable or likely to be dangerous from the stall so there weren't any farm implements or pitchforks about. But at last! He found the lantern just as she pulled away from him chewing skin.
Shuddering with pain he could feel blood already welling up in the wound, Kellar managed to force himself to his feet and huddle back from her. There was a tiny crank on the lantern that could ignite it, an ingenious device really but not quite infallible. He ground the crank one way, then the other hoping that the lantern still had some fuel in it.
At last light! But no sooner had he got the lantern lit that he could see the grisly countenance that was Mabel Nevin no more. Her long red hair was matted with blood. Her eyes were sunken and staring almost blankly. Her mouth was covered in blood. It appeared as if her throat had been ripped out.
Kellar's mouth opened to scream again but no sound came out. Oh great Tol don't let this be the end of me. I swear I'll do right. I'll mend my ways!
Mabel lurched toward him with a shambling gait. Kellar thrust the lantern at her and grabbed at his pants on the floor before darting out of the stall and off into the night.
He got away. He got away!
He was practically dancing as he got out of the barn, except the ache in his thigh was horrid. He was going to have to bandage that. He just needed to get on his pants and get his... horse?
Keeping the barn in his periphery he hunted around for his horse while attempting to put his pants on.
Not pants silly... jacket.
The horse was gone, no sign of it and he could hear the moaning in the barn behind him again. Then more moaning in the trees.
In terror he fled into the forest in the direction of the road. At this point it mattered not that he had nothing to wear.
The tale later picked up with Maycroft riding into the next town with his jacket round his waist... I may have also reprised him as a ghost haunting his brother, part of a larger tale where his brother turned out to be an unfortunate soul somehow involved in the creation of the zombie menace all for the love of a woman... (and you can imagine what Kellar thought of that! Hah!)