A Real Horror Story
No one was home except my mom and I, so my brother won't be disturbing my peace and quiet.
Over the excited chirping of the reporters, I heard some muffled crackling, as the cheap black portable radio/CD player tried to catch the right wave.
A fly buzzed around my ear. I swatted it and missed; it landed on the red and white wallpaper of oriental buildings and noblemen. I must admit it was placid, but boring. Too bad there was nothing to do. If only my brother would be at home!
“Onto the weather forecast. Chances of rain and thunderstorms. Flash flooding warning in most parts of Vermont...” The weather reporter’s voice trailed off as I raced outside. A thunderstorm….. Wow!
I sniffed the air. The wind was picking up just slightly, but the faint traces of an upcoming tempest were hanging in the atmosphere.
This is when I noticed the spiders: fat spiders with terrifying legs and grayish bodies like over-inflated tiny balloons. They lived outside our windows, on the special duty of fly control. (Regardless, how good they were, I was absolutely terrified of close encounters with arachnids: small ones, or big ones at a distance, were fine.) The spiders were stowing away their webs, hastily pooling in the silky threads.
Black clouds were rolling from the North. A pressure began building at my temples. I felt like an ant under a huge log; which was pressing and pressing on my head. Electric flashes, followed by cracking sounds, cut the sky. I felt shiver on my back and went in. Fear? No. Anxiety? Is this my imagination, or my mother is fidgeting too?
Fumbling around with the tablecloth, I wildly thought of something to distract my thoughts from the coming squall. A movie would be fine. I asked, and “Oh, that! Sure,” was my mom’s cheery reply.
At that moment, the rain crashed, thumping loudly against the metal roof. I jumped up, my mother's warm hands clasped mine. The calm anticipation of the film’s emotional roller coaster overcame my uneasiness.
-Dramatic music- What an exciting moment!
Booooooomm!!!!The room went dark, screen flickered and went black, I found myself huddled in a nonbeing of cold lightless space. Lightning forks and sheets flashed outside. The creeping, crawling faintheartedness was returning.
“I’ll go get a flashlight. ” My mom arily bounced off to the kitchen.
I remained seated, my sweaty hands clasped and eyes open wide. No, I didn’t fear THIS! Or did I? That strange sickening sensation…..
“Cut it out. It’s just a power outage. You’re a teenage girl, not a silly toddler,” I was cooing to calm myself.
Standing up, cautiously, I passed the outline of the table and tugged at the cable. The lightning and thunder were now sedated, as if a thick woolen blanket was thrown on top of it. I felt somewhat relaxed.
As I turned to face the couch, someone, or something, caressed my shoulder. It was a strange kind of sensation, sort of prickly, tickling, and light.
I naturally thought it was mom. “Yeah, I’m here. Turn on the flashlight, please!” No answer. The hand travelled down my arm, not cold, not warm, like fingernails. “Cut it out, it’s creepy!” I laughed, alarmed.
“WHAT’S CREEPY?!!!!! WHERE’S THAT GODDAMNED FLASHLIGHT?!!!!” mom shouted back from kitchen.
Was this a burglar? A robber? Were they going to kidnap me? Did they have guns?!
I wheeled around, spinning in the spot. No one.
I galloped, panic stricken, into the kitchen, stumbling over objects, gasping, flailing my arms. “M...m...o...m! Iiiiiiit’s something!” I screeched.
The room was flooded in the flashlight's cold glare. I looked down on my bare arm. There it was, innocently sitting: black, smooth, huge, with a small body, visible pincers and loooong legs, nearly two inches in diameter. A spider! On! Me!
My teeth started chattering. Fear, real, paralyzing terror was sweeping through my body. I shook like an autumn leaf. And a terrible, bloodcurdling scream uttered from the inner depth of my innate dread. “IT’S ON ME. IT'S ON MEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!”
The poor arachnid pulling his legs into a clump, fell off my arm onto the floor. Apparently the vibration of my piercing siren had knocked him out cold.
I burst into tears. Falling into the arms of my mother, I sobbed, crying from the shock and trepidation of this spider.
Pushing me in the shower, my mom turned on the spout, and went off to take care of the poor fainted creature.
The relaxing fleecy feel of the water quickly soothed my feelings. My broken sobs began to subside, and I felt really tired, exhausted from the whole night. The stifling atmosphere of the storm was unnaturally gone. The lights were flicking back on.
The noodles were cooked. I was sitting at the table with my mom, who was recounting her experiences during the outage.
“Only don’t tell this to my brother,” I pleaded in a hushed stage whisper.