I remind myself again that I am not scared. This is a normal night, with an often maligned number associated with it. The day of the week on which a number falls does not imbue it with evil. Sometimes Friday will fall on the thirteenth day of the month. That doesn’t mean I will be attacked by a murderer wielding a machete. It doesn’t mean I should just crawl back under the covers and stay there all day. But the clock summons me out from under my cozy blankets and into a cold, dark day full of danger.
I decide to skip shaving my legs though I am sure I am now at risk of attracting Yeti and Bigfoot and all their fuzzy bipedal monster friends. I just can’t risk it on today of all days. I make what feels like a million extra cautious decisions before my work day ends, and then I am finally free to seek refuge in my own home. I close the door behind me with a final click, making sure I slip the deadbolt into place to keep the malignancy of the world out of my safe space.
As I flip on the overhead light, a light breeze ruffles my hair. I shudder and glance around the room. The curtains over the kitchen window blow outward toward me. I race forward and slam it closed, surprising myself with the loud report of wood coming home against wood. As I lock the window, I stare at it suspiciously. I know I locked that window.
I pass by a mirror in a gilded frame, frowning at the fear and worry emanating from the dark eyes of my reflection. I give myself a mental pep talk to try to calm the racing of my heart.
“You shouldn’t be afraid of your own shadow, especially not in your own house. How can one day have so much power over everyone’s baseless fears?”
It doesn’t help. Something still feels off. I turn slowly, looking carefully at everything in my cluttered living room. Nothing seems out of place, at first. But then my eyes make the circuit again and notice that a seashell now sits in the middle of my coffee table. Was it there when I first looked? I know I didn’t put it there.
I take a step forward, reaching out toward it. Then I reconsider and take a step back. Did it just move?
I turn my head, looking at my own reflection again. I can see the coffee table over my shoulder. As I watch its newly acquired ornament, the shell does begin to move. A claw slowly creeps out of the shell and raps on the table. I turn around to get a better look, since it clearly no longer wishes to hide from me.
My heart races as a tiny crab emerges from the shell. I get a moment to relax before the feeling of wrongness takes over again. I watch with my mouth agape as the crab doubles in size then doubles again. It skitters to the edge of the table and grows even more. Soon it towers over me and walks sideways toward me, watching me with those creepy eyestalks as I find my mind again and begin to back away.
I reach the door and realize that all my attempts to keep myself safe may have backfired on me. I struggle with the locks. A high-pitched hum resonates around me as I pull the deadbolt back. I don’t realize the origins of the sound until it stops when a claw closes around my ankle just tightly enough to arrest my movement. I scream and the crab pulls on my ankle, knocking me to the floor.
As he skitters closer and clambers up onto my chest, I begin to cry, “What are you? Why me?”
“Because you dreamed up this nightmare. Your fear breathed life into me and made me real. And now I will devour your fear.”
I scream as his free claw comes for my face…
~Thought I would throw in an extra for Friday the 13th since my dear Carlotta didn’t let her creepy flag fly in the piece I composed for yesterday. Anyone up for crab cakes?~
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