It is difficult to say where it all began. But if obsession has taught me anything then I guess it all begins where it ends and all ends where it begins. It's funny to say that out loud. Sounds crazy, well, maybe I am. But I wasn't always that way, no. I had a normal life, pretty average, really. Or, y'know, at least, that's what I always told the cops.

But there was something, something out of my ordinary, bothering me. Something I couldn't really account for. It was always present, but I could never find anything there. Neither could the endless chain of counselors, doctors, therapists, what have you. They all said it was paranoia and all charged me a decent chunk of change to tell me what I already knew, except for what I wanted to know. I knew it wasn't. Sure, I couldn't see it, but I could feel it. And heaven or hell knows it was there.

It was there when I slept. It was there when I ate. There it was for the past three months draining me or every ounce of life I had left. And there it remained, ever present, ever watching.

I started to consider psychics, even though I don't take any stock in 'em, I was at the end of my rope. But then I was recommended to someone. Doctor says to me she was a psychologist, a bit unorthodox, for sure, but specialized in unusual cases.

At that point, I had almost hit rock bottom. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, hell, I couldn't even have a bowel movement half the time without the fear of something lurking close by.

So I got some directions and went way out of my way. I come up and see a little round house, and hardly do you ever see a round one anywhere. Stone construction, seemed to me pretty old. Doorbell weren't old though, worked just like it was supposed to.

Then a lady wearing a green domino mask answers the door, says, "Mr. Bryce."

"No, please call me Gianni, Gianni Bryce. Excuse me, I'm sorry, did Dr. Coulter call you? I know I don't have an appointment."

"I'm sorry, I do not know Dr. Coulter, but the name is Dr. Mirga, Spidriana. You can call me Dreenie, please do come in."

"But you know me?"

"I know your trouble, and that's why your here, so if it is all the same to you, have a seat."

I sit down, somewhat reluctantly at first, but then I began to loosen up. She was a strange lady, but it was a strange house, so go figure. Probably should have guessed by the name she had some sort of weird spider fetish. Spider motifs and webbed patterns covered her house and clothes. Terrariums filled with spiders could be found on every other shelf. But I suppose, that isn't the nuttiest thing in the world. I've known plenty of woman with weirder kinks then that.

Still, I guess, she must have heard it a million times, before I could get another word out, she says to me, says, "No, I'm not going to ask if you like spiders."

I laugh, and she smiles. She seemed genuine. Funny thing 'bout her mask though, it had lenses hiding her eyes showing only a kind of reflective mirror. A little early for Halloween for my taste, but to each their own.

"Spiders," she continues, "Are misunderstood, like you, like me, and isn't that why you are here?"

"I dunno, doc, folks tell me I'm off my rocker, maybe their right, but sane or not, I can't keep going on like this."

Dreenie nods, holds out her hand, palming a necklace with a weird, little charm, and places it upon my forehead.

"I'm not ill," I reply as she presses the cold metal of the pendant against my skin.

Dreenie sighs, "Sometimes we can't see something, can't hear it, can't smell, or taste, or feel with our hands, but spiders, they can feel through vibrations."

I shrug.

"It's not magic," she continues, "It's science, and if there something out there waiting we can't see, we can't hear, we can't sense, well, then the vibrations will be off and—."

She stops herself mid-sentence. She removes the necklace quickly. Then gently opens the clasp and places back around her neck.

"What's wrong," I ask.

With a sound of some concern, Dreenie asks, "Have you encountered an unfamiliar person recently? Older, but not necessarily in looks, but in their tastes, aesthetic, clothing, vocabulary especially, and I'm not talking like decades out-of-date, a flair for the Victorian, that sort of thing?"

"Yea, I mean, there is the one rich fella I'm was working this job for a Mr.—"

"Stop!" Dreenie interrupts, "Accent? Mustache?"

I nod.

Dreenie bites her lip, stands up and starts pacing.

I shoot off my seat knocking back the chair, "Wait! What is it? Him? How? Is he doing this?!"

Dreenie sighs, "Look, there's something I can do, but you're going to need to trust me."

I shot back a look, a look without words, a look that simply reads, "Help me."

"Okay, lie down here," she says, and I recline on a sofa.

"Eyes up! Look straight, not up, not down, not for a second, and count backwards from ten."

I begin to do as instructed, "Ten, nine, eight, seven," as she begins to remove her mask.

I get to four and then drop into a dead silence. Wait, her mask, I could see it in her hand by her waist. The eye holes. Where were the lenses? The reflectors. I know. I know. I know.

But—

I look up. I wish I hadn't. I wish I had listened.

I see Dreenie standing there.

"Don't scream," were her only words.

Her eyes, there never were any reflectors. Those were her eyes! And the mask, her mask, it wasn't a costume, it was to hide the other two.

Immediately, I try to get up but can't. I can't. I'm weighed down by something.

I begin to tilt my head when Dreenie again says, "Don't."

But, I couldn't help myself. I couldn't help but look down and then, well— HELL.

I was covered in something, like silk, I knew what it was. I couldn't see it though. You couldn't see anything. The floor looked like a black puddle of something churning. I could only make them out on my chest.

Spiders, hundreds of small spiders, creeping around.

They begin to move up to my face, feeling like a scouring pad just brushing against the skin.

I couldn't believe what was happening as their fangs begin to pierce into my flesh. Like being stung a hundred times from all directions at first, but then a numbness, over my whole body.

I could hear them too. The noise of a thousand small insects slurping, draining me. I begin to feel faint, drift out of consciousness, the last thing I remember Dreenie say:

"I'm sorry, they're medicinal, you are under the force of the vampire, and we— we have to purify the blood."

The hell with it all. I scream anyway.

And then, I black out.

As I awaken, I was back in my apartment the rays of the dawning sun coming out through the blinds.

It was strange. It was quiet. I couldn't feel it. For the first time in a long time, I just couldn't feel it anymore.

He, him, he was gone. I was alone. The curse was lifted.

I mean, I was perturbed for sure. My body was covered in strange patterns, ritualistic even, as made by small instruments.

I was aching, but I was grateful. I changed apartments after that. Hoping I'd always stay one step ahead.

And curiosity even, if that is what it was, compelled me to drive back to that spot where the little round house has stood. But there was nothing, nothing where the so much of something had once been.

Nothing, saved for a single, small spider's nest.


— END —





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