Even now she can feel them- their eight limbs picking their way across the landscape of her body. That sudden movement at the base of her scalp. It must be just a stray hair? The itchiness on of the surface of her skin; her nails chasing the cause but always finding nothing. The sticky strand across the face- strong but impossibly soft. Her eyes dart looking for the unmistakable shape but though always present they remain ever outside the periphery of her vision. Is this madness?
She'd followed the ritual exactly: the words spoken from nervous lips in the midnight hour, the candle evoking the goddess of creativity, the herbs and incense piled atop as she bathed in the smoke of it. She knew this was nothing to trifle with and she hadn't been trifling. But what had she been inviting?
Her mind went back to the old woman in the shop with her layers and layers of ribbons and jewelry. She'd said that every symbol had a meaning and helped attune a specific vibration. She'd listed the spells that could help her and warned against diving in too deep.
But she was cocky, and only half believing. Surely this must be a joke? Something that crazy people do to make themselves feel better about not being in control of their own lives. This woman with her incense and totems was a new age fishmonger selling trinkets and kitch to people too stupid to know better.
But Darcy, her free-wheeling and boundless friend had sworn this was the answer to her problem and desperate times do call for desperate measures. So she'd swallowed her pride and bought the spell kit, hating herself for being so weak that she'd seek out something so hokey. But she'd felt empowered as she left the tiny, cluttered shop. No longer close minded. No longer limited by a construct that maybe didn't quite fit.
"This is what you get" was the thought that came to her when she felt the thick weave binding her. She startled out of bed with a panic and thrashed in the sheets. Only a dream.
But then the itching started. The scuttle of impossibly fast bodies. The strands of silk roping across her. The breath catching in her through as she sensed them. But her eyes showed her nothing and her hands always reached for invisible culprits. She was losing her mind.