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Description

Of course she had seen the gossamer spiderwebs strung across the walls, the windows, even stretching from wall to wall across the room. It’s an old castle, spiders and their webs come with the territory.

Terry had been working all morning to clean out this basement space as a workroom, and she was running out of patience. She wasn’t afraid to get dirty, and wasn’t about to go all the way up to the main level to grab a broom to clean out the old webs - so she charged in to them, pulling them down with her hands. And if a few spiders dropped on her along the way, she wasn’t the squeamish type.

What surprised her was how strong the strands were - they didn’t break away from the walls when she swiped at them with her hands. They stretched, rebounded - and stuck. Terry shook her hands to free of the sticky stuff, but this only brought her into contact with more of it.

Frustrated, she decided to take the more direct approach; she charged right through the skeins and sheets of gossamer silk - she’d take it all down with her body, and go upstairs for clean clothes after.

But the webs held. Even with the weight of her entire body rushing through, they held. She backed out of the mess - and it stuck to her, stretching again but then stopping her. “I can’t pull this stuff down?” she thought, the first hints of unease in her breast.

There was a sound - a skittering. She turned - and the web, stuck to her body, wrapped more tightly around her. She turned again, the other way, and more strands stuck to her. Turning again - just a little, the webs were pulling taut with every move she made, constraining her movements - “holding me in place,” she thought - she saw that she was completely entangled in the sticky trap; it was wrapped entirely around her, and she couldn’t move in any direction.

And her arms, still in the air, tiring - she lowered them, and found that she couldn’t. Her hands, her arms, were held fast above her head.

“Good lord, this is ridiculous,” she fumed. “I’m so wrapped up in this stuff I’m almost . . . “

Helpless.

Now her heart truly did leap into her throat. “I’m trapped down here in a spider’s web? And nobody knows I’m down here. I could starve to death before anyone comes to - “

Another skittering, behind her. The sound of dozens of tiny feet crawling the walls, the ceiling. A light thrumming on the strands that anchored her to the walls told her they were coming along the web, also.

Spiders. As big as her hand - bigger, some of them. The hunters who had laid this trap only recently, knowing that prey would soon be coming into their lair.

“"Me," she thought. “I’m their prey.”

She looked down at a feather-light touch on her calf, but she already knew what she’d see. Strands of sticky silk encircled her calves, from knees to ankles. Spiders climbed the legs of her jeans, binding her legs together - her calve, her knees, her thighs.

She wriggled. She twisted, she turned, she jerked back and forth, but the web that held her only tightened, rendering her even more helpless, unable to do anything as the spiders skittered up her legs, climbed onto her shoulders, began to explore her body.

She would not starve to death, she knew that now. She wouldn’t be given the chance. The spiders roamed around her body, ankles to hips to head, wrapping her in layer upon layer of sticky, suffocating silk. Exhausted, she sagged into the web, all her weight pulling it even more tightly around her, and waited for the first touch of fangs on her skin, the first burning injection of digestive juice, turning her into food for her legion of small captors.

Description

Of course she had seen the gossamer spiderwebs strung across the walls, the windows, even stretching from wall to wall across the room. It’s an old castle, spiders and their webs come with the territory.

Terry had been working all morning to clean out this basement space as a workroom, and she was running out of patience. She wasn’t afraid to get dirty, and wasn’t about to go all the way up to the main level to grab a broom to clean out the old webs - so she charged in to them, pulling them down with her hands. And if a few spiders dropped on her along the way, she wasn’t the squeamish type.

What surprised her was how strong the strands were - they didn’t break away from the walls when she swiped at them with her hands. They stretched, rebounded - and stuck. Terry shook her hands to free of the sticky stuff, but this only brought her into contact with more of it.

Frustrated, she decided to take the more direct approach; she charged right through the skeins and sheets of gossamer silk - she’d take it all down with her body, and go upstairs for clean clothes after.

But the webs held. Even with the weight of her entire body rushing through, they held. She backed out of the mess - and it stuck to her, stretching again but then stopping her. “I can’t pull this stuff down?” she thought, the first hints of unease in her breast.

There was a sound - a skittering. She turned - and the web, stuck to her body, wrapped more tightly around her. She turned again, the other way, and more strands stuck to her. Turning again - just a little, the webs were pulling taut with every move she made, constraining her movements - “holding me in place,” she thought - she saw that she was completely entangled in the sticky trap; it was wrapped entirely around her, and she couldn’t move in any direction.

And her arms, still in the air, tiring - she lowered them, and found that she couldn’t. Her hands, her arms, were held fast above her head.

“Good lord, this is ridiculous,” she fumed. “I’m so wrapped up in this stuff I’m almost . . . “

Helpless.

Now her heart truly did leap into her throat. “I’m trapped down here in a spider’s web? And nobody knows I’m down here. I could starve to death before anyone comes to - “

Another skittering, behind her. The sound of dozens of tiny feet crawling the walls, the ceiling. A light thrumming on the strands that anchored her to the walls told her they were coming along the web, also.

Spiders. As big as her hand - bigger, some of them. The hunters who had laid this trap only recently, knowing that prey would soon be coming into their lair.

“"Me," she thought. “I’m their prey.”

She looked down at a feather-light touch on her calf, but she already knew what she’d see. Strands of sticky silk encircled her calves, from knees to ankles. Spiders climbed the legs of her jeans, binding her legs together - her calve, her knees, her thighs.

She wriggled. She twisted, she turned, she jerked back and forth, but the web that held her only tightened, rendering her even more helpless, unable to do anything as the spiders skittered up her legs, climbed onto her shoulders, began to explore her body.

She would not starve to death, she knew that now. She wouldn’t be given the chance. The spiders roamed around her body, ankles to hips to head, wrapping her in layer upon layer of sticky, suffocating silk. Exhausted, she sagged into the web, all her weight pulling it even more tightly around her, and waited for the first touch of fangs on her skin, the first burning injection of digestive juice, turning her into food for her legion of small captors.