| Current music: | "Raindrop Prelude" - Chopin |
Nightmare
I slept in the sheets with the dead spider.
I jumped, scared, as it skittered in my sheets. I took the plastic container and trapped it. I watched the terrified little brown thing. Tiny little crawling thing. I killed it.
Then, I sat and watched the flat little body. I wondered obliquely, if it had a family. I wondered at my life, to destroy a right. Right to destroy a life. Any life, every life. I put the thought aside and crawled into the death-stained sheets and slept.
I opened my eyes, smiling slightly. My skin tickled. A light, pleasant, lover's touch on my arm.
More touches. Tickling, crawling, over every inch of my skin. I scream and flinch and tear my body back, away. The touches, the spiders follow, hair and spindles and eyes on me. Crawling, touching. Sticky film holding me, filling my eyes, my ears, my mouth, my nostrils.
I scream. I scream.
They swirl and surge forth and their smell invades me. Smell fo dust. Smell of blood. Smell of pesticides. Smell of sweat and frangipani.
They coalesce, they grin and taunt me. They grab my skin stronger and hearder, threatening to tear, threatening to break.
And their myriad eyes become two, and their spindles make hands, and he holds me down.
He pushes, and I scream.
I scream. I scream.
I wake, having hit the ground, tumbled from the murderous sheets.
When I can breathe, I'll burn them.
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