Page 115 of Cackle

At first, I think I’m being dramatic, projecting the absolute dark, manifesting my fears.

But then it moves.

It’s moving.

I back away from the window. My view outside is completely obstructed.

Obstructed by a swarm of spiders.

Layers upon layers of them crawling over one another.

To witness it, the sheer number of them, atrophies my muscles. I stand petrified in the middle of my bedroom.

“Sss . . . sss . . . sssss,” I stutter. “Sssstop! Stop it!”

The spiders disperse with unnatural speed.

My view is returned.

I slump down to the floor. I rock there, holding my knees close to my chest.

DEVELOPMENTS

Simple Spirits doesn’t close until ten. I put on my coat, my gloves, my hat and my ugliest, warmest boots and trudge out to Main Street.

Under the honey glow of the streetlamps, I see that it’s desolate. It’s always quiet at night, but not this quiet. I walk up to Simple Spirits and find it dark.

I try the door. It’s locked.

I knock.

“Alex?” I say, my voice quavering with desperation. “Alex, it’s nine twenty-six. Are you there? Are you open?”

I knock again.

I listen.

I hear voices.

But the voices aren’t coming from inside Simple Spirits. They’re coming from somewhere else. Somewhere close.

I step back from the door, back onto the sidewalk.

To the right of Simple Spirits, there’s a Tudor-style antique shop. I’ve never been inside, but there’s a carousel horse in the front window that I always admire. On the other side, on the left, there’s the little white cottage.

The lights are on.

I’ve lived here for six months and I still don’t know what’s inside. I figured it was vacant.

I follow the stone walkway up to the door, which is slightly shorter than me. I’m about to lean over to peer into one of the small round windows when I hear someone speak my name.

“Annie is a sweet girl. I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

I recognize that voice. It’s Rose’s.

I hunch under the window, out of view. I listen.

“She’s corrupting her.” Oskar.