about to say. It had a metallic feel to it, like an
old nail was being pulled slowly out of a dry board.
The sound ended with a sharp
crack of wood splintering.
“Ouch! What in the—” Jina held
her hand up to look at her finger, and an inch-long wood sliver stuck out from
the edge of her nail. A small drop of blood oozed around it.
There was a tug at her sleeve.
Sandy was trying to get her attention.
A man stood, arms folded, in the
corner by the door. He wore moth-eaten wool pants and a tuxedo coat in a
mismatched shade of black. The suit was tattered, with bits of cloth and dirty
white shirt sticking out in various places. A top hat with a wrinkled brim
pinned down his frazzled black hair, and moist perspiration beaded across his
pale forehead. The details of his face were difficult to make out in the
shadow that he seemed to cast upon himself. More notably, his skin, while very
pale, also had a slight, almost bluish tint.
“It’s high time we met,” he said,
raising his cane and tapping on the floor.
“Fuck you!” Sandy shouted. She
bolted through the next door, with Jina close behind. A cobweb brushed against
her face.
This room was just as empty, but
there were no other doors. A sound came from the other side. She turned. The
door slammed shut.
Sandy started creeping slowly
along the wall towards the only window. If she had to, she would jump.
Something flew towards her and
stuck into the wall near her neck. She halted, but turning to look, she couldn’t
see what it was. Something flew towards her again, as quickly as a bullet. It
hit above her left shoulder, and this time she felt something graze her, not
quite breaking the skin. She turned her head the other way and could see a
rusty nail pinning her shirt to the wall. Cold brittle metal pressed against
both shoulders.
She looked up and saw Jina pinned
to the opposite wall in a similar manner.
A tickle grazed Sandy’s face.
She lifted her hand to brush it away. A sticky cobweb clung to her fingers.
Another swept over her hand. Resolving to rip the nails from the wall or her
clothes, whichever gave first, she pulled forward. A force shoved her back
into place as a spider web grew out of the wall to encircle her upper arms.
More webs appeared, covering her elbows and forearms. They were common,
inelegant webs, the plain looking ones that house spiders spin. Funnel
spiders. Spiders.
With panicked strength, Sandy pulled
hard against her bonds. Her arms could still move, but as she resisted, more
webs grew, until she could move nothing. Her arms, belly, legs, feet. Even
her fingers were wrapped in webbing. Her face tickled torturously.
Jina appeared in the same condition.
Wispy, dusty webs covered her entire body, leaving only her face unburied. To
Sandy’s relief, she saw no spiders on Jina. Hopefully that meant none of the
creatures were on her.
Footsteps. Sandy couldn’t tell
their source. They had left S.A. in the previous room, but the footsteps rang
from behind her. Or was it above?
She looked back at Jina, who was
staring at the ceiling. A large, brown, fuzzy-legged arachnid approached her
unseen from below. The delicate spider was nearly an inch and a half long.
“Pssst! Jina!”
The spider put a leg on Jina’s
hand. With the itch, Jina looked down. She tried to flinch, but couldn’t
because of the webs.
Another spider skittered out from
under Jina’s leg. One stood on her chest sensing the air with its feelers.
Sandy felt a tickle. There was
nothing there. Another tickle. Nothing. She could see no spiders on herself,
but Jina now had six on her and five more on the wall surrounding her. Why
couldn’t she see the spiders she knew had to be there?
“Oh Sandy, please help me…” The
timber of her frightened voice rose and fell. A spider touched Jina’s cheek
and she let out a stifled scream. Sandy felt a tickle on her
old nail was being pulled slowly out of a dry board.
The sound ended with a sharp
crack of wood splintering.
“Ouch! What in the—” Jina held
her hand up to look at her finger, and an inch-long wood sliver stuck out from
the edge of her nail. A small drop of blood oozed around it.
There was a tug at her sleeve.
Sandy was trying to get her attention.
A man stood, arms folded, in the
corner by the door. He wore moth-eaten wool pants and a tuxedo coat in a
mismatched shade of black. The suit was tattered, with bits of cloth and dirty
white shirt sticking out in various places. A top hat with a wrinkled brim
pinned down his frazzled black hair, and moist perspiration beaded across his
pale forehead. The details of his face were difficult to make out in the
shadow that he seemed to cast upon himself. More notably, his skin, while very
pale, also had a slight, almost bluish tint.
“It’s high time we met,” he said,
raising his cane and tapping on the floor.
“Fuck you!” Sandy shouted. She
bolted through the next door, with Jina close behind. A cobweb brushed against
her face.
This room was just as empty, but
there were no other doors. A sound came from the other side. She turned. The
door slammed shut.
Sandy started creeping slowly
along the wall towards the only window. If she had to, she would jump.
Something flew towards her and
stuck into the wall near her neck. She halted, but turning to look, she couldn’t
see what it was. Something flew towards her again, as quickly as a bullet. It
hit above her left shoulder, and this time she felt something graze her, not
quite breaking the skin. She turned her head the other way and could see a
rusty nail pinning her shirt to the wall. Cold brittle metal pressed against
both shoulders.
She looked up and saw Jina pinned
to the opposite wall in a similar manner.
A tickle grazed Sandy’s face.
She lifted her hand to brush it away. A sticky cobweb clung to her fingers.
Another swept over her hand. Resolving to rip the nails from the wall or her
clothes, whichever gave first, she pulled forward. A force shoved her back
into place as a spider web grew out of the wall to encircle her upper arms.
More webs appeared, covering her elbows and forearms. They were common,
inelegant webs, the plain looking ones that house spiders spin. Funnel
spiders. Spiders.
With panicked strength, Sandy pulled
hard against her bonds. Her arms could still move, but as she resisted, more
webs grew, until she could move nothing. Her arms, belly, legs, feet. Even
her fingers were wrapped in webbing. Her face tickled torturously.
Jina appeared in the same condition.
Wispy, dusty webs covered her entire body, leaving only her face unburied. To
Sandy’s relief, she saw no spiders on Jina. Hopefully that meant none of the
creatures were on her.
Footsteps. Sandy couldn’t tell
their source. They had left S.A. in the previous room, but the footsteps rang
from behind her. Or was it above?
She looked back at Jina, who was
staring at the ceiling. A large, brown, fuzzy-legged arachnid approached her
unseen from below. The delicate spider was nearly an inch and a half long.
“Pssst! Jina!”
The spider put a leg on Jina’s
hand. With the itch, Jina looked down. She tried to flinch, but couldn’t
because of the webs.
Another spider skittered out from
under Jina’s leg. One stood on her chest sensing the air with its feelers.
Sandy felt a tickle. There was
nothing there. Another tickle. Nothing. She could see no spiders on herself,
but Jina now had six on her and five more on the wall surrounding her. Why
couldn’t she see the spiders she knew had to be there?
“Oh Sandy, please help me…” The
timber of her frightened voice rose and fell. A spider touched Jina’s cheek
and she let out a stifled scream. Sandy felt a tickle on her
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