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  1. I wrote this for a Deviant Art post and I'm moving it here... Here you go...

    Sky is ebony.
    Stars are pinpricks in the ebony curtain.
    Walking through the damp grass of the backyard,
    I trigger the floodlights.
    What used to be a cool, pleasant night for a walk
    Turns into a witching-hour terror.
    Delicate silk hangs innocently from every pine tree, but in sinister, betraying array.
    I feel my paranoia churn my stomach and launch my heartrate into overdrive.
    Stopped dead in midpace, I stare eide-eyed at the base of the nearest tree trunk.
    Fear forces my eyes up the length of the pine, ungodly slowly.
    Dark lines of bark and scars wrap the tree, and my eyes continue against my will.
    Movement above makes my focus jump to the upper boughs.
    Pure, unadulturated terror grips me as an impossiblity leers down upon me.
    Size of a dog.
    Brown fiddle.
    Turning on my heels I try to sprint back to my house, my sanctuary.
    Skid to a halt.
    Slip and fall, barefoot on the slick lawn.
    Hard hit.
    Looking up, another web blocks my escape.
    To the left, more webs, more brown fiddles, hairless bodies the sizes of SmartCars.
    I scramble to my feet.
    Peel out.
    Run to the right.
    Maybe I can get to the front door.
    I run straight into a web.
    Thousands of small spiders are on my arms, my jeans, in my hair.
    I scream.
    Try to.
    Nothing but harsh air and a small crack as my jaw pops.
    Throat not working, I can't call for help.
    I can't breathe with the horror of what's happening.
    So real.
    Skin clammy, grass prickly, spiders making my skin literally crawl.
    They're everywhere.
    The fish pond!
    I run to it, but the pond is empty.
    Ripping off my shirt, jeans, I try to rid myself of my assailants.
    Feel hundreds of fiery bites.
    Searing, scalding pain heightens my fright.
    Floored with my terror, I can't move.
    Clingy tension of web, grit on my feet, the sweat on my body pervading senses.
    Heart is thundering, adrenaline is flooding me, but no action comes.
    Lightheaded with panic.
    Hyperventilating? Feel kind of faint.
    I try to scream; again, only a whisper is uttered.
    I grap by head with my hands.
    I feel small wet crunches there.
    I squeeze my eyes shut, try to fight the numbness and the simultaneous fire.
    Succumbing to venom?
    How long do I have left?
    I don't want to die.
    I can't die yet!
    Not ready!
    Darkness clouds what little vision I have left.
    I see a giant dark form descending upon me.
    I wake up, and this time, the scream comes