The lock clicks
as she slides past him, lying on the couch with an empty can of beer slipping slowly out of his hands, and she makes her way to the kitchen. She heads straight for the wine. As she digs the spring into the cork her "soulmate" begins snoring. It matches the white fuzz on the screen. Sitting at the bar, pouring herself a glass, she thinks about her friends. They're all coupled off now, and spend most of their days licking each other's assholes and enjoying their faery-princess marriage life. The glass is empty, half of it falling down her throat and the other half soaking into her cotton thigh-high stockings. They are white, and now look stained with blood. The moonlight tries to make it's way into the shadowy kitchen through the blinds, but its polluted with the light of the city. She tries not to look at the man on the couch who has just dropped his can, which surprisingly is not empty at all. Beer makes its way to his bare feet, wetting them and making them sticky. He doesn't notice. She wants to listen to music, but more than that she doesn't want to wake her husband. He'd just want her to wipe his toes before falling back asleep. The white fuzz would go ignored, just like everything else in this house besides the beer and wine. She carries the bottle and glass with her to the master bedroom, and its there she opens the top drawer of her dresser and peers into a very dimly lit jar of what appears to be sand. 1482 eyes. 1976 legs. 247 spiders known as Sicarius hahni, or the six-eyed sand spider, also known as the six-eyed crab spider. These medium sized spiders occupy the deserts of South Africa, hiding in the sand and ambushing any prey that ventures too close. Sand adheres to the bodies of these spiders, creating a natural camouflage in pale, tan areas. It's venom is believed to be the most dangerous of all spiders known to man; with a powerful and potent necrotoxic effect that causes blood vessel leakage and tissue destruction. Results of animals in laboratories who had been bitten by the Sicarius hahni have been devastating and fatal, resulting in multi organ breakdowns in the victims. There is no antivemon. The six-eyed crab spider is not known to bite humans, unless provoked. She shook the jar with a smile, and untwisted the lid. Gleefully she sprinkled the spiders on the bed as if they were flowers. Laughing as she watched them scatter across the tan sheets. Once the jar was empty, more or less, she threw it across the room, and it hit the closet doorframe with a screech. She noticed the snoring had stopped, and smiled. She walked over to the couch, setting the wine and glass on the bar on her way there. Her husband was regaining conciousnes slowely now, startled by the noise. His head rolled to the other side.
"Are we winning?" he grumbled as she stood him up, his feet sinking deeper into the sticky beer.
"The game's over sweety, we might have. Time to go to bed." She walked him over to their master bedroom, stepping out of the way as a light dusty spider scurried over the threshold. She didn't need to lay him down; he did that himself, not bothering with undressing himself. He mumbled something as he dozed off again, and she thought about kissing him, but instead just stared at him in his coffin for a few moments before returning to the bar, closing the door behind her. She sipped on this third glass, patiently letting the flavor roll around her mouth, patiently listening and waiting. And then the screams began. That familiar voice, the one she came to despise, the one that constantly smelled like beer and cigarettes, was cursing and yelling. She heard loud rips as he frantically tore his clothes off, the spiders crawling between the fabric and his skin. Pounding at the door, and the attempts to grasp the handle, before a loud "thump" befell the floor. The whole house shook and moaned. Her glass was empty again, and it was as she looked in the direction down the hallway that she felt a scratching at her ankle. She looked down, and saw a hole the size of a dime in her stockings, and a lump making its way up her leg. She sighed, and refilled her last glass of wine.
as she slides past him, lying on the couch with an empty can of beer slipping slowly out of his hands, and she makes her way to the kitchen. She heads straight for the wine. As she digs the spring into the cork her "soulmate" begins snoring. It matches the white fuzz on the screen. Sitting at the bar, pouring herself a glass, she thinks about her friends. They're all coupled off now, and spend most of their days licking each other's assholes and enjoying their faery-princess marriage life. The glass is empty, half of it falling down her throat and the other half soaking into her cotton thigh-high stockings. They are white, and now look stained with blood. The moonlight tries to make it's way into the shadowy kitchen through the blinds, but its polluted with the light of the city. She tries not to look at the man on the couch who has just dropped his can, which surprisingly is not empty at all. Beer makes its way to his bare feet, wetting them and making them sticky. He doesn't notice. She wants to listen to music, but more than that she doesn't want to wake her husband. He'd just want her to wipe his toes before falling back asleep. The white fuzz would go ignored, just like everything else in this house besides the beer and wine. She carries the bottle and glass with her to the master bedroom, and its there she opens the top drawer of her dresser and peers into a very dimly lit jar of what appears to be sand. 1482 eyes. 1976 legs. 247 spiders known as Sicarius hahni, or the six-eyed sand spider, also known as the six-eyed crab spider. These medium sized spiders occupy the deserts of South Africa, hiding in the sand and ambushing any prey that ventures too close. Sand adheres to the bodies of these spiders, creating a natural camouflage in pale, tan areas. It's venom is believed to be the most dangerous of all spiders known to man; with a powerful and potent necrotoxic effect that causes blood vessel leakage and tissue destruction. Results of animals in laboratories who had been bitten by the Sicarius hahni have been devastating and fatal, resulting in multi organ breakdowns in the victims. There is no antivemon. The six-eyed crab spider is not known to bite humans, unless provoked. She shook the jar with a smile, and untwisted the lid. Gleefully she sprinkled the spiders on the bed as if they were flowers. Laughing as she watched them scatter across the tan sheets. Once the jar was empty, more or less, she threw it across the room, and it hit the closet doorframe with a screech. She noticed the snoring had stopped, and smiled. She walked over to the couch, setting the wine and glass on the bar on her way there. Her husband was regaining conciousnes slowely now, startled by the noise. His head rolled to the other side.
"Are we winning?" he grumbled as she stood him up, his feet sinking deeper into the sticky beer.
"The game's over sweety, we might have. Time to go to bed." She walked him over to their master bedroom, stepping out of the way as a light dusty spider scurried over the threshold. She didn't need to lay him down; he did that himself, not bothering with undressing himself. He mumbled something as he dozed off again, and she thought about kissing him, but instead just stared at him in his coffin for a few moments before returning to the bar, closing the door behind her. She sipped on this third glass, patiently letting the flavor roll around her mouth, patiently listening and waiting. And then the screams began. That familiar voice, the one she came to despise, the one that constantly smelled like beer and cigarettes, was cursing and yelling. She heard loud rips as he frantically tore his clothes off, the spiders crawling between the fabric and his skin. Pounding at the door, and the attempts to grasp the handle, before a loud "thump" befell the floor. The whole house shook and moaned. Her glass was empty again, and it was as she looked in the direction down the hallway that she felt a scratching at her ankle. She looked down, and saw a hole the size of a dime in her stockings, and a lump making its way up her leg. She sighed, and refilled her last glass of wine.