Oh, a spider prompt. Hmmm. I’m almost sure this is not necessary. And now, I cannot unsee any of this. Ever. And that kinda bothers me on the inside. In the same place where my dream bothered me. In the same way you awake clawing at things that are not there, screaming in darkness. Yeah, that place. That place of fear.
Spiders are using my crib as if it’s the underground railroad on their way to someplace less oppressive. I try not to see them. I try to leave them the room. I have to go online to identify the ones in my crib to make sure I don’t wake up dead from a deadly spider bite. Otherwise, it’s them. it won’t be me. I have bug spray on standby.
seeing them online was a viewing I could not finish. So I will never identify the jokers in my crib because I don’t have it in me to find them. I let them have their stupid webs. That’s enough!
Your narrative on these creatures, well. I guess spiders need love & supporters too! As a writer, I read it. As a person, I didnt like it. Not one bit, I tell you. * left in shudders*