I’m a little late to the Friday Fictioneers party, but I’m still getting a hang of my new schedule so bear with me. The prompt this week dealt with spiders, so in keeping with a lot of my posts recently I went creepy with it. I’m not sure whether I like this one or this earlier post better when it comes to my spider-related writings, but I’ll let you be the judge. Thanks, as always, to Madison Woods for hosting the prompts, and thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for providing this week’s picture.
So dark. Black. And without time, just like death.
I hardly noticed it at first – the gentle, sticky tug of the spider webs – but now I feel their silky strands twined about my neck and threaded through my fingers. The tiny legs that tickle my skin, the poison bites that make me itch.
I need my medicine but I cannot scream – I cannot whisper; If I do, they’ll fill my mouth and skitter down my throat and build their nests in my lungs.
But oh! I cannot plug my nose or stop up my ears, so now they’re in my brain and they know my thoughts.
The spiders are in my brain and I am dying and they know my thoughts, just like God.
Check out the other links in the collection and leave whatever comments, criticism or random musings you feel the occasion calls for below!