Same park bench, same tepid, mildly soupy yogurt. Her insulated lunch sack never really kept her lunch cold. Sarah leaned back against the wooden slats and closed her eyes. The air in the park was thick, sticky like melted candy floss.
Her sunglasses pinched her face. She longed to pull them off, but the sky overhead was masked by thin, gray clouds that only served to diffuse and amplify the baking sunlight above. The headache she’d suffer for uncovering her sensitive eyes wasn’t worth the relief.
Condensation made the plastic yogurt cup slippery, so she set it down next to her, largely untouched, the accompanying plastic spoon tilting drunkenly against the rim.
“Excuse me?”
Unease clicked up Sarah’s spine at the voice; she disobeyed the urge to keep her eyes closed.
Tall, gaunt, knobbledy of bone and sinew, a man of indeterminate age loomed over her. His eyes, large in his face, and glittering, peered at her through wire-rimmed glasses. His clothing was stiff, a black skeleton over his frame.
Sarah could only stare, tangled up in the panicky flutter deep in her belly.
“May I share your bench?” His voice held a quiet shrillness, like the feeling of nails on a chalkboard without the sound. He spoke no louder than a whisper.
Her head bobbed, lashes beating like the pulse at her throat.
“Such a pretty thing.” Silky words.
She swallowed, shivering at his chelicerate smile. When his long arm reached over to touch her hair, the clicking unease tripped up the back of her neck.
A cobwebby, winding embrace, a stinging poison kiss. A tumbling plastic spoon. The clattering, wet splat culturing the grass. A scuttle, trailing banners of web away from an empty bench.
For the Scriptic prompt exchange this week, SAM gave me this prompt: Little Miss Muffett sat on a tuffett eating her curds and whey. Along came a spider and sat down beside her, but what if he DIDN’T scare her away?
I gave Jester Queen this prompt: Odds, bobs, hammer and tongs!
Ohhh…this is so deliciously dark. I love the direction you went with it. I’m glad you liked the prompt. I was hoping you’d have some fun with it, and you did!!
Oh, yes! My arachnid villain was a pleasure to write. A creature of few words, and very clear in my mind.
He’s very clear in my mind too. The whole scene played out like a movie in my head.
I love the twist at the end. My favorite line was “she melted like candy floss”. Great writing!
Thanks, Deana!
Poor Sarah Muffet, indeed.
I like how you described the words as silky then delivered the blow. excellent writing.
“Said the spider to the fly,” kept running through my head while I wrote this.
Love it! I had to look up “chelicerate.” Perfect word choice.
Creepy story and I loved every word.
Thanks! I like to play in my dictionary and thesaurus (word nerd), and I was looking for good spidery words. That one seemed to suit.
Vivid, Cam!
I imagine I can feel wisps of spiderweb across my face now and I am completely creeped out!
I will never look at a spider the same way again!!
Oh just perfect! I love dark twisty endings.
Poor Sarah, as fidgety as a fly…
All the more reason to hate spiders. Spine-chilling.
*Shudder* there is something Stephen King about him. Just chillingly written, Masterly, really.
That’s just about the best compliment I could get on this piece.
Thank you, Kate.
Creepy. “The clattering, wet splat culturing the grass.” Yogurt or blood? Ugh! Great job!
Ugh. In such a good way. Still, my skin is just crawling right now. I can feel him all over my house.
nice. he’s gonna save her for later. YUM
Perfect. Just perfect.
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Great piece Cameron, you have definitely topped Mother Goose for your rendition of the rhyme that is supposed to be innocent!