MicroHorror

Willowy wisps of cobweb wave like seaweed brushed by ocean currents on the ceiling and in the cornices. Chloe takes a broom and with one swipe clears a clump of web so large that she could knit a small child’s jumper with it.

“They seem to appear overnight,” she thinks to herself on her way back to the kitchen with the broom.

She returns to the bedroom and climbs into bed. The bedside lamp goes off. Thoughts of cobwebs dissolve into the random chaos of a middle-aged woman’s mind at bedtime. The covers are pulled up and her body is tucked into the fetal position. The wind through the leaves of the almond tree outside her window lulls her to sleep and soon she is dead to the world.

It hasn’t even occurred to her that something built that web

In a dark corner between the drawers and the wall something stirs. At first it is disoriented. It untangles its legs and scuttles back up the wall. For a long while it waits for another attack, alert and seething. Then, when the attack does not come, it turns around and looks down upon its sleeping foe.

Creeping across the ceiling it casts a monstrous shadow across the patches of moonlight which steal in through chinks in the bedroom curtains. One furry leg in front of another. A quick scuttle and then it stops. It is now directly over her. It can hear the slow and steady sounds of her gentle snoring.

The back end of its abdomen kisses the plaster of the ceiling, attaching a small dot of glue. It waits a moment and then descends towards Chloe’s open mouth on a thin strand of silk. Its eyes are filled with images of the woman’s face. Its legs twitch with impatience.

Not even a full minute has passed before the tips of the spider’s legs touch the pale skin of Chloe’s cheek. One leg slips inside her open mouth but the spider quickly retracts it. Instinct tells the spider that if the victim can’t see, it can’t fight.

So it starts with her eyes, weaving a fine mesh over each lid which sets hard and closes them forever. The strands are continuous. Its back legs work like pistons to pull more and more fine threads from its abdomen. As it scuttles around Chloe’s head it takes the thread with it. Minutes turn into hours but the spider works tirelessly to exact its revenge.

And soon it is joined by others. From corners and gaps in the plaster they come. The room is alive with movement and Chloe sleeps obliviously. Her head is soon off the pillow, suspended by a hundred strands of silk which have been attached to the ceiling. Back and forth they go, and bit by bit Chloe’s body is lifted from the mattress. As each hour passes there is less of Chloe’s body and more silk.

One brazen arachnid deposits a sack of eggs in Chloe’s mouth. The sleeping woman brushes the tiny silk sack aside with a flick of her tongue so the spider bites it. It doesn’t pay to mess with Miss Black Widow.

Chloe wakes up only she can’t open her eyes. She panics. She tries to move but can’t. Within her silken cocoon she wriggles and twists, but her body is suspended, her arms and legs held together by the silk of a hundred spiders.

The sun is ready to make its debut and the spiders have finished their work. They are all looking at the one that started it all. When it feels it has their complete attention it injects its poison.

Chloe wriggles frantically. The pain is fierce, her movements become more erratic. She can feel something happening inside her body. It feels like her insides are melting.

The spiders are in for a long wait.

But the meal at the end of it will be well worth the wait.