SPIDER DREAMS

ghostfish (60)in #story • 7 years ago (edited)

 Chapter 11:  Fire and Spider

Fire consumes.

It burns energy from the source. Until there is nothing left but ash.

A spider crawls along the floor stretching its thin pale legs mechanically.

It creeps closer to the fire.

Orange light dances across white reflective skin.

Flames flicker over dark convex eyes.

The human race is a captive animal.

Pigs in cages, dogs in fences, cats in fancy cars.

The spider stops.

It begins to spool thread from my skin.

I listen to the crackle of the fire.

I stare into the flame,

I forget who I am,

And if I ever had a name.

 Chapter 12: Home

Where are you?

Where am I?

Where did you go?

Where did I go?

I feel so alone…

“What are you doing still here?” A voice near and familiar echoes inside my skull.

“Vincent! Hey!” I feel a palm slap my cheek.

“Wake up!”

“Get up.”

“Go home. Work is over for the day buddy.” He is still shaking me. I’m coming around. I can feel life returning to my body. My limbs are cold and my fingers are stiff. My head feels dizzy and I can’t make any sense out of where I am. It’s heavy, dusty, wet and muddy in my head.

“Go home Vincent,” his raspy monotone voice repeats.

I try to blink. It’s dark and my eyes burn.

“For Christ sake kid, how long have you been laying out here?”

It suddenly dawns on me it’s the Warden talking to me. I recognize his voice.

“Damn it kid! You better be punched off the clock. We aren’t paying you to sleep on the job. You better of not been laying down here all afternoon.”

I keep blinking hoping my vision will return. Everything is a foggy blur.

“What did you get accomplished today?” he demands standing over me with his hands at his hips. “Did you finish everything I told you to do?”

I mumble, “water pipes…” but it doesn’t really come out to clear.

“What? Pipes? What kid, what kind of pipes? Have you been smoking on the job again? Damn it Vincent,” he begins to pull me to my feet. “I told you to be careful. You’re starting to worry me.” I fall back down. The grass feels clean and refreshing like tiny soft blades of feathers tickling and whispering in my ear. They sing happy songs.

“Water…” I squeeze out my lips while rubbing my eyes and laying there fighting the will to return to my body.

Footsteps walk away.

Footsteps approach,

and

It hits me like a jolt of lighting. Right through my entire being shocking every nerve down my spine like a million volts firing inside my head.

“Here is your damn Water!” Shouts the Warden squirting the water hose at me. “Now get your lazy worthless ass up and off my yard!” He begins kicking me gently with a sharp toe. Nudging me like you would a dead body you didn’t know was alive. “You’ll be lucky if you have a job tomorrow. Now get your ass out of here.”

I see a purple balloon caught in the breeze overhead. The sky is dimming orange to deep blue. A purple muted sunset explodes over the horizon. I am really late for dinner. The girlfriend is going to kill me. The purple balloon pops on a nearby branch.

“I’m alright,” I said finally sitting up and standing on my own two unstable feet. “I dozed off for a couple hours after I punched out.” I brush the dead leaves and grass off my clothes. “Don’t worry boss. I was only taking a short nap. I got the cellar painted white today. Had a little trouble with one of the water pipes. But it’s fixed now. I patched it back together.” I smile at the thin figure of a man standing next to me holding the sprouting water hose. It pools at his feet.
“I’ll catch ya tomorrow,” I said with a wave. “Thanks for the wake up,” and I walk slowly off towards the bleeding red sunset.

At home she is there. She is always there. Waiting.

“How was work today Hun?”

“It was a good day. Things went well.”

“What did you do all day dear?”

It’s hard to explain these things to her. She just wouldn’t understand. “Oh, I worked, dear.”

“Worked? What did you work on?” She asks. She likes to be included. She wants to know everything. She likes to feel like she owns, wears the pants, runs me like a business. I’m a loafer with a nowhere, do-as-I-please attitude. She pays the bills.

“Oh,” I tell her. “Not much. Them little bastards, they tried to run, but I got them. I got them all.” She thinks I’m a little nuts. But I’m not going to let her know that. I don’t like getting caught up in the domestic redundancies. That is all.
She comes and sits next to me on the brown sofa.

“Got who darling?” She asks, stroking my neck, petting me.

“Got who?” I exclaim. “Got them all! They tried to run, those little hairy legged bastards.” I smile. “Real fast they all were. They would scurry up the walls and cracks trying to escape. But they couldn’t. No Ma’am, they couldn’t get away from me no matter how fast them eight creepy legs could carry them. Nothing gets away from my thick wet paintbrush of oozing white death.” I wink. “And that, Hun, is what I did today at work. I painted the entire basement cellar white and all the little spiders crawling around.”

Her face is frozen uncomfortable. She can’t make common sense out of anything I just said.

“And please,” I say removing her palm from the base of my neck, “I don’t like to be petted. I’m not a fucking pet dear.” I stand up. “A little back massage would be nice once in a while, but enough with the petting and stroking. I’m sick of begging and wagging my tail.”

Her lips have squeezed themselves into a sour puckered shape at the edge of shock and ready to snap a drama act across the room.

“Whatever.” She says. “You’re becoming a little weird lately. I think you’re losing a few too many of your marbles.” She begins walking out of the living room tossing her blond hair over a shoulder. I watch her ass move from side to side. “You might want to cut down on that shit you smoke,” her voice echoes from within the kitchen.

On the contrary I thought to myself, maybe I have too many marbles.

“What’s on the menu for dinner tonight?” I shout down the hall without leaving the living room. I pick up the book I’ve been reading, sit in the sofa and switch on the drab dim lamp. “It smells pretty good.”

“Well,” her head pops around the corner. “That’s just the onions right now. I was thinking about frying up some fish for tonight and then after dinner I thought we could go out, catch a drink or something.” She smiles. “Maybe watch some music. Is that ok with you, my little pouting puppy?”

I grit my teeth and smirk. "Fish."

I wonder what that creepy fellow hanging around in the attic is up to.

I finger the gold medallion around my neck; maybe tomorrow night.

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