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.

Solitary Confinement

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.

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