Spider, Part Six, "Nightmare"
by Vega
~~~
"Get out of my head!" I screamed at the voice.
I couldn't hear it, but somewhere I knew it was chuckling.
"What do you want?!"
"... you know what I want."
"Where are you?!" I felt myself turning in circles, saw the shadows moving as I looked left and right, but I saw no one.
"Inside you." The voice made me shiver, and I think somewhere beyond this realm my physical body doubled up with cold.
I clapped my hands over my ears, marvelling only slightly that my right arm was intact. "Get out of me!"
"Give me what I want."
"NO!"
There was a flash and I felt myself drop to a hard-packed dirt floor. I squeezed my eyes shut against the nightmarishly familiar magenta glow. "No, stop it, please!" I whimpered.
I waited, anticipating the ghastly pain, the feel of sharpness skewering my flesh, the jarring jolt of demonic teeth scraping canyons into my bone, the reeking stench of burning and sizzling flesh, the scouring of my nerves.
When it did not come, I looked up, slowly. The demon was not there.
I was alone in the small hut, the magenta on the floor pulsating. I stood slowly, my left hand wrapped protectively around my upper right arm. I didn't want to look at what was glowing.
A voice chuckled. I turned and saw a figure standing in the doorway. From behind him I could see the tongues of flame that leapt from thatched rooftop to thatched rooftop. People were screaming. I stumbled forward, moving to push past him, to go to the people, to shove the burning children down into the dirt and douse the flames.
From the seamless covering of white fur a sharp-nailed hand sprang up and wrapped around my throat.
"Let me go!" I gurgled, "let me go to them!"
The grip tightened only slightly before I was shoved backwards, back into the centre of the room. I hit the floor with a teeth-jarring jolt. I was dreaming, so nothing was broken, but I still HURT.
"You cannot help them," the voice said, and I recognized it as the one that had been asking me questions. It issued from behind the death's mask that the white fur-thing wore. Was it human? I didn't know.
"Why not?!" I bawled at him, fisting my hands in the dirt.
"Because they are already dead. This has already happened, Miko."
"I'm NOT A MIKO!" I shrieked. I climbed to my feet and swayed only slightly. The change in altitude doubled me over and I coughed violently, my windpipe burning with pain.
"You are not a Miko," the voice repeated. He sounded slightly amused. "You are not a youkai. You are not hanyou. And yet you have the power to make metal move without touching it. You speak an ungodly language. You dress as a man does. And your eyes are the colour of a morning sky."
I shook my head, forcing away the tears that seemed to come so readily lately.
"I am not a demon..." I said softly, and I heard the tremor in my voice. "I am...not... a... a.."
"A what?"
"I'm not," I said firmly.
I felt cold hands on my face and I tried to pull away, but he held me firmly. I collapsed to my knees, looking up at him, my eyes wide. From beneath the mask I saw blazing red. He knelt to study my face.
"Where are you from?"
"I... I don't remember..."
"Who are you?"
"I... don't... remember..."
The red behind the mask flared for an instant and I screamed as fire ate it's way through the flesh of my right arm. It was a hundred times more intense, more mind-numbingly painful, than the demon's saliva. I could hear the hiss and pop of the fluids under my skin sizzling.
I retched, and that came out as a scream too.
"You are lying to me," the man snarled. "You are lying to me and I WILL NOT HAVE IT! WHAT ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU COME TO BE HERE!?"
The burning slopped and I slumped forward, into his chest. He made no effort to catch me and I slithered bonelessly down, into his lap, my face in the hollow of his legs. I was shivering. But I would not cry, dammit.
This was just a dream.
"Get up."
I couldn't even so much as twitch. I had no feeling, anywhere. Nothing but the dull aching throb of pain, all over, everywhere, in every cell, in every pore, from the roots of my hair to the backs of my eyes, to the skin underneath my fingernails.
I felt my bottom lip split, the blood oozing from underneath my teeth. It throbbed too, fire under the skin, fire in my blood.
"Get up," he said again, and I heard poison in his voice.
I pressed my tired ands against the floor and pushed. There was a sickening crackling sound as my brunt flesh cracked, peeling and flaking. Icey cold slammed down, all the way through my muscle, and with a quick glace I could see the bone, the ruptured arteries, the muscle in seared chunks.
I turned my head away, to the side, and vomited.
Rough hands twined into my hair and yanked me up to meet the red eyes that lay beneath the skull. With one hand keeping my head up, pulling agonizingly on my hair, the other swooped out to wrap his talons around my right wrist. I still had feeling there and I screamed again.
He yanked my arm up viciously and brought it to his lips. I could see them, his chin, his horrid smirk, under the shadow of the skull's long nose. He opened his mouth and I screwed my eyes shut.
I felt the flesh rip off the bone as he bit into it. I heard the slurping gurgle of him sucking at the fount.
"You have powerful blood," he rasped, and in my minds eye I saw him bathed in it, my life's essence. "You have powerful blood and I will know what that power is. I will HAVE that power."
I opened my heavy lids slowly, staring right into his eyes. "The... the f... the fu..." I stumbled, spitefully fighting the faint I felt coming upon me. "The... the fuck you will."
~~~
I awoke.
The room was pitch dark, and I lay stock still, panting. I could feel the sweat running down my forehead, over my nose. It stung as it hit my eyes.
"Hell," I whispered into the blackness... "Fucking hell...."
~~~
When the sun rose it found me still awake, too terrified to move.
After an hour of watching the feeble daylight bleed into my chamber through the paper wall, I finally mustered my courage enough to look down at my right wrist. Somehow, in the middle of the night, I must have clawed at my bandages, for there was a hanging gap in the shockingly white linen. It was only flecked with the merest hints of red.
A dream, I reminded myself, only a dream.
And then I noticed what pattern the blood spots were in.
A crescent moon.
I had been BITTEN.
by Vega
~~~
"Get out of my head!" I screamed at the voice.
I couldn't hear it, but somewhere I knew it was chuckling.
"What do you want?!"
"... you know what I want."
"Where are you?!" I felt myself turning in circles, saw the shadows moving as I looked left and right, but I saw no one.
"Inside you." The voice made me shiver, and I think somewhere beyond this realm my physical body doubled up with cold.
I clapped my hands over my ears, marvelling only slightly that my right arm was intact. "Get out of me!"
"Give me what I want."
"NO!"
There was a flash and I felt myself drop to a hard-packed dirt floor. I squeezed my eyes shut against the nightmarishly familiar magenta glow. "No, stop it, please!" I whimpered.
I waited, anticipating the ghastly pain, the feel of sharpness skewering my flesh, the jarring jolt of demonic teeth scraping canyons into my bone, the reeking stench of burning and sizzling flesh, the scouring of my nerves.
When it did not come, I looked up, slowly. The demon was not there.
I was alone in the small hut, the magenta on the floor pulsating. I stood slowly, my left hand wrapped protectively around my upper right arm. I didn't want to look at what was glowing.
A voice chuckled. I turned and saw a figure standing in the doorway. From behind him I could see the tongues of flame that leapt from thatched rooftop to thatched rooftop. People were screaming. I stumbled forward, moving to push past him, to go to the people, to shove the burning children down into the dirt and douse the flames.
From the seamless covering of white fur a sharp-nailed hand sprang up and wrapped around my throat.
"Let me go!" I gurgled, "let me go to them!"
The grip tightened only slightly before I was shoved backwards, back into the centre of the room. I hit the floor with a teeth-jarring jolt. I was dreaming, so nothing was broken, but I still HURT.
"You cannot help them," the voice said, and I recognized it as the one that had been asking me questions. It issued from behind the death's mask that the white fur-thing wore. Was it human? I didn't know.
"Why not?!" I bawled at him, fisting my hands in the dirt.
"Because they are already dead. This has already happened, Miko."
"I'm NOT A MIKO!" I shrieked. I climbed to my feet and swayed only slightly. The change in altitude doubled me over and I coughed violently, my windpipe burning with pain.
"You are not a Miko," the voice repeated. He sounded slightly amused. "You are not a youkai. You are not hanyou. And yet you have the power to make metal move without touching it. You speak an ungodly language. You dress as a man does. And your eyes are the colour of a morning sky."
I shook my head, forcing away the tears that seemed to come so readily lately.
"I am not a demon..." I said softly, and I heard the tremor in my voice. "I am...not... a... a.."
"A what?"
"I'm not," I said firmly.
I felt cold hands on my face and I tried to pull away, but he held me firmly. I collapsed to my knees, looking up at him, my eyes wide. From beneath the mask I saw blazing red. He knelt to study my face.
"Where are you from?"
"I... I don't remember..."
"Who are you?"
"I... don't... remember..."
The red behind the mask flared for an instant and I screamed as fire ate it's way through the flesh of my right arm. It was a hundred times more intense, more mind-numbingly painful, than the demon's saliva. I could hear the hiss and pop of the fluids under my skin sizzling.
I retched, and that came out as a scream too.
"You are lying to me," the man snarled. "You are lying to me and I WILL NOT HAVE IT! WHAT ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU COME TO BE HERE!?"
The burning slopped and I slumped forward, into his chest. He made no effort to catch me and I slithered bonelessly down, into his lap, my face in the hollow of his legs. I was shivering. But I would not cry, dammit.
This was just a dream.
"Get up."
I couldn't even so much as twitch. I had no feeling, anywhere. Nothing but the dull aching throb of pain, all over, everywhere, in every cell, in every pore, from the roots of my hair to the backs of my eyes, to the skin underneath my fingernails.
I felt my bottom lip split, the blood oozing from underneath my teeth. It throbbed too, fire under the skin, fire in my blood.
"Get up," he said again, and I heard poison in his voice.
I pressed my tired ands against the floor and pushed. There was a sickening crackling sound as my brunt flesh cracked, peeling and flaking. Icey cold slammed down, all the way through my muscle, and with a quick glace I could see the bone, the ruptured arteries, the muscle in seared chunks.
I turned my head away, to the side, and vomited.
Rough hands twined into my hair and yanked me up to meet the red eyes that lay beneath the skull. With one hand keeping my head up, pulling agonizingly on my hair, the other swooped out to wrap his talons around my right wrist. I still had feeling there and I screamed again.
He yanked my arm up viciously and brought it to his lips. I could see them, his chin, his horrid smirk, under the shadow of the skull's long nose. He opened his mouth and I screwed my eyes shut.
I felt the flesh rip off the bone as he bit into it. I heard the slurping gurgle of him sucking at the fount.
"You have powerful blood," he rasped, and in my minds eye I saw him bathed in it, my life's essence. "You have powerful blood and I will know what that power is. I will HAVE that power."
I opened my heavy lids slowly, staring right into his eyes. "The... the f... the fu..." I stumbled, spitefully fighting the faint I felt coming upon me. "The... the fuck you will."
~~~
I awoke.
The room was pitch dark, and I lay stock still, panting. I could feel the sweat running down my forehead, over my nose. It stung as it hit my eyes.
"Hell," I whispered into the blackness... "Fucking hell...."
~~~
When the sun rose it found me still awake, too terrified to move.
After an hour of watching the feeble daylight bleed into my chamber through the paper wall, I finally mustered my courage enough to look down at my right wrist. Somehow, in the middle of the night, I must have clawed at my bandages, for there was a hanging gap in the shockingly white linen. It was only flecked with the merest hints of red.
A dream, I reminded myself, only a dream.
And then I noticed what pattern the blood spots were in.
A crescent moon.
I had been BITTEN.