Flash Fiction: Spider Legs

Inspired by late night thoughts during a troubled sleep

He woke with a start, brushing furiously at his arm. It felt as though something had been crawling there, something with furry little legs that tickled as they moved. Heart pounding, he snatched his phone off the bedside table and activated the flashlight. Casting the glow across the bed, he saw no sign of a spider or other insect that may have been using his exposed arm as a bridge to the other side of the bedroom. With a shudder, he cut the light and rolled over, hoping to quickly return to dreamland.

Thinking pleasant thoughts, he closed his eyes and tried to relax, tried to put the thought of some eight-legged freak crawling over him out of his mind…and then he felt it again. That tickle. That sensation of movement. He slammed his palm down on the affected spot, yelping in pain at the force of the blow. There was no satisfying crunch and no smushed bug on his hand or arm. The thought of heading to the couch crossed his mind, but he was not about to let some annoying little bug force him out of the most comfortable spot in the house, and so he settled down again.

The third time was the worst. This time, the crawling sensation started on the side of his face and moved down his arm. He tried to ignore it. After all, what harm could a little spider do? Any thought of remaining cool vanished when the tickling reached his ear, followed by what sounded like a breathy whisper. He slapped at his face and grabbed the phone again. This time, when he turned on the flashlight, he saw the cause of the tickling sensation, and he screamed.

Long locks of black hair descended from the ceiling, brushing against his exposed skin. Using the light to follow the path of the hair, he saw her hovering above the bed. Her eyes were black like those of a shark, the light from the phone adding spots of life to otherwise dead, soulless pits. Her skin was pale and run through with black veins, but it was her smile that was the worst. It was all teeth, too many teeth, all honed to points. She grinned wider still, the skin of her cheeks splitting open and dripping ichor.

“Wakey wakey,” she said as she dropped onto the bed.