You could be anyone, but let’s assume you’re an average sized person. A spider with a leg-span about as long as your torso and a body possibly slightly smaller than your head lowered itself from the ceiling towards Emily’s face. It came down slowly, like somewhere in the arachnid’s brain it knew that sudden movements will startle prey, even if that prey is asleep like Emily was.
Emily tossed her head from side to side on her pillow, and the spider stopped, suspended two feet above her. It soundlessly clicked its fangs – impatient. She made sounds in her sleep, sounds that were meaningless to the spider – as most sounds are, save for the buzz of a fly’s wings or the high-pitched squeak of a tasty mouse. If you or I heard her though, and saw the expression on her sleeping face, we’d know that she was having a nightmare. We’d probably go to wake her up, if there wasn’t an enormous spider dangling there between us and her. Maybe we’d just close the bedroom door and hope we hadn’t actually seen what we thought we saw.
After a few moments, Emily’s movements stopped, though the nightmare in her head continued. The spider lowered itself even slower than before, a few millimeters at a time, until it was close enough that if it had wished to, it could have reached one long, spindly leg down and stroked her forehead. Continue reading