What Tangled Webs

by Dan Dillard

..ooOOoo..

  OUT, DAMNED SPOT

  THE FIRST TIME I saw it was right after giving her one of the routine Thursday-night orgasms. We'd had a decent day, the kids were asleep and though we didn't have sex like before, Thursday nights had become our scheduled bang-it-out. A back rub, a pinch here, a tickle there, some oral work and then in and out in less than ten minutes. It worked for us.

  The first time I saw it, it was just a glimmer in the shadows of our textured ceiling. And though it hadn’t jumped out and grabbed me, something about it caught my attention, like a piece of metal or glass catches the sunlight and is momentarily blinding. At first, I thought it was just something in my head, something my eyes made out of the ceiling in our dimly lit bedroom. It thought it might be something injected by my subconscious to help fill in the monotonous blanks of same-sex-different-day. Instead of coming and going as she liked to call it when I ejaculated, and then got a restful night’s sleep, it was keeping me awake. Then it happened again the next evening—no sex involved.

  My wife, Geri, was drifting off while talking about her day at work. She liked her job. I hated mine. Maybe, thinking back, it was a streak of jealousy that caused me to see the thing on the ceiling—the same streak that caused me to resent her a little more each day. It was just a speck at first, barely discernable in the green light provided by our matching alarm clocks. We woke at different times. She got up chipper and in a hurry to be early for work, coffee in hand. I punched the snooze button until I was almost late. Coffee didn’t matter.

  As she talked and my eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, I drifted to that spot. It was still there on the left just past the ceiling fan. I looked away and then tried to find it again. A game that I always won—or lost, depending on how you scored it. The spot hadn’t moved and seemed a little bit bigger that second night.

  Preoccupation with weekend plans and the kids' activities kept me from my find-the-spot game that weekend. I only entered the bedroom out of sheer exhaustion and slept as soon as pillow and hair made contact. It wasn't until the following Wednesday that I saw it again. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. I thought it was a moth, a fly or maybe a small spider up there, but it didn’t move. It simply sat in its location, just beyond the six-bladed fan that kept us cool at night. That evening, I got up to check.

  Had it grown? It was a speck before, a chip in the paint perhaps.

  It had grown. It was twice as large, maybe two and a half times. I turned on the light and saw nothing but our textured ceiling, painted that same drab white color that matches every ceiling in every home in America. I scanned back and forth all around the fan and it simply wasn't there. I walked to the bedside where I slept and tried to spy it from my usual vantage point and it wasn't there. I went back to the light switch and flipped it with a sigh. Then I trekked back across the master bedroom and threw the covers back to lie down. As I settled my head on the pillow, the spot was back.

  Dime-sized... and was it pulsing?

  I crawled to the end of the bed and strained to look at it. It quivered ever so faintly as if heat waves passed in front of it. I kept one eye on the spot as I walked back to the switch, making damn sure it was still there before I lit the room.

  Stars twinkle, planets don’t, I thought. I don’t know why.

  I fumbled my fingers along the wall until I felt the cool, smooth plastic of the switch plate and never took my eyes from the spot. I flipped the switch making sure not to blink…and it was gone.

  “Shit,” I said.

  Geri, who had just made her way upstairs said, “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Nothing ,” I said. “I thought I saw a spider or something.”

  “Eww. Did you kill it?”

  “No, it disappeared when I flipped on the light.”

  “Shit, are you serious?” she said. “I hate spiders. Especially when I lose track of them.”

  “Yeah. Like I said, it might have been a fly. I’m not sure.”

  I felt a bit ridiculous being caught at my game—trying to catch the spot in the daylight. It must've been some sort of shadow. Crawling into bed, I left the lights on while she brushed her teeth and washed her face. I turned on my side and tried to drift but I could feel the dot watching me. Geri patted her skin with a towel and turned the light off. She crawled in bed next to me wearing nothing but her panties and snuggled up smelling of mint toothpaste and lotion. I didn't respond. It was only Wednesday. I didn't look at the ceiling again either.

  I did the same thing Thursday, except for the sex. Same on Friday. I felt if I didn't look, it wasn't there. It's just a damn spot on the ceiling.

  It wasn’t until Saturday night when I rolled onto my back without thinking and I couldn’t miss the golf ball-sized thing sitting there. I'd swear it blinked at me. Two pinhead eyes batted their tiny lids in my direction as if acknowledging my awareness. That, or it was taunting me. It hung like a bat from its roost there beyond the fan, only in the darkness.

  “Honey, you're clammy. Do you feel ok?” Geri asked.

  I hadn’t realized she’d been watching me. It didn’t matter. Even when she put her hand on my forehead, I never took my eyes off of the thing on the ceiling.

  “I'm fine, just a little warm.”

  “You want me to turn on the fan?” she asked rubbing my arm.

  “No. I'm ok. Go back to sleep,” I said.

  “Ok.”

  I wasn't about to lose sight of it, not even behind spinning fan blades. Eventually I made peace with the world and dozed off. I dreamed of fishing on a lake, peaceful thoughts that seemed to last all night and I woke refreshed. We ate breakfast and watched the kids play outside. The sun was brilliant and I found a new appreciation for the light that it supplied. I’m not afraid of the dark, but of the things lurking there.

  What are its intentions?

  That night she lovingly stroked my hair and kissed me lightly on the neck. It made me queasy. She was trying to break our routine. This routine was the only way I could continue to live with her and she was trying to shatter protocol. She kissed me again and ran her hand down my arm to my waist. That was her move. Five years prior it was her way of letting me know it was time to perform. It no longer worked. She slid her thumb under the waistband of my boxer shorts and made some seductive noise into my ear. I gave an audible fake snort as if I were already sleeping and then waited for Geri to sigh in defeat and turn over. There were rules. The fact that she was unaware of them was not my concern. They had to be followed or I would go mad.

  After her breathing settled into its deep pattern that let me know she was asleep, I turned to get comfortable and the ceiling dweller watched.

  Was it a conjured beast? Something born of her dissatisfaction, perhaps? It had grown to the size of a grapefruit and was staring at me with disdain as if to say, how dare you shun her affections?

  I stared back at it for a long time wondering how large it would get. As big as a cat? As big as a man? Then what? I slid my feet off the edge of the bed, stood up and then walked slowly towards it. Its eyes never lost their grip on mine and only blinked on occasion. The tiny brow furrowed as I approached and its eyes narrowed to slits.

  “What the hell are you?” I whispered.

  Geri's frustration. I am frustrated. Is she?

  I reached a slow careful hand up as if I might pluck it like an apple. It took its gaze off of my face and tracked my hand instead. It growled. The noise was faint, but unmistakeable.

  “Honey?” a sleepy voice said from behind me.

  I jerked my hand down like a kid who was caught trying to steal a cookie from the pantry shelf.

  “What are you doing? Come to bed,” she said.

  My embarrassment only made me resent her more and to make matters worse, she went right back to sleep. I watched the critter as I shuffled back to my side of the bed. I lay down next to her and she rolled to put an arm around me. When she did, I think I saw that little fucker sigh.

  The
next day, Geri and I fought. It was always about money. At least to her it was. To me it was the trapped feeling you got after years of marriage. I thought it would pass. My father told me it would. My older sister told me the same thing. My friends at work all said, cheat. It did wonders for our marriages. Little did they know they were sleeping with each other's wives. Ha ha! Maybe they were right. Maybe they all had creatures growing out of their ceilings as well and just hadn't noticed or hadn’t even looked.

  We sorted through the money issues just before nine o'clock that evening and once the children were fast asleep, she tried to seduce me. It was her way of making up. My way was bourbon. Unfortunately the two never mixed well and while I was relaxed, she went to bed angry. It showed on her face. When I turned the light off to get in bed it showed on the little beast's face as well. It had grown long, spindly legs with little claws on the ends and was actually smiling at me, brow still furrowed. The expression on its alien face said now you're gonna get it and I'm gonna give it to you. Grease up, buddy. It was the look of a predator who just realized they had the upper hand and it made me nervous.

  I watched it watch me for another moment and then rolled to my side. As long as it stayed in that spot, I could keep an eye on it. Strange as it was, it seemed harmless enough. I drifted off and dreamed of fishing again.

  She didn't talk to me the next morning. Her morning routine had an air of pissiness about it and when she left for work, the car screeched out of the driveway. I laughed at that. After so many years it was a kick that I could still get under her skin. Then I thought about the thing. Paranoia was a bastard.

  Maybe if I apologize it will shrink. A good plan that I thought about all day. Work did nothing to distract me from thoughts of the creature. I couldn’t eat lunch…and when I got home, the whiskey didn’t help either.

  It was no longer about satisfying Geri or making her happy. It was about self-preservation. If somehow she had whipped up a recipe for 'ceiling demon', I wasn't hungry enough to take a bite. I hadn’t even considered it might be something else…something worse.

  She drove us and we took the kids out to dinner. It was a good time. Later that night at home, I poured her a glass of wine and rubbed her feet. I apologized for being so ruthless about the bills and so distant. I hugged her close to me and stroked her cheek. After the children went to bed, I made love to her on the couch and then carried her upstairs. She fell instantly asleep with one arm and one leg draped over me. The creature was not there. The lights were out and its perch beyond the fan was bare. I smiled in triumph and closed my eyes. Sleep came quickly.

  Click, clickety click...Clitter clitter...

  What was that? I thought, still groggy from dreamland. I opened one eye. Numbers on the alarm clock blurred and focused, blurred and focused.

  3:47AM.

  Click, clickety click click...

  The other eye opened. 3:48. I looked beyond the clock to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness and then glanced at the spot by the ceiling fan. Still empty.

  Click click clitter click.

  I rolled to look at my wife and see what the noise was. She still slept peacefully.

  Click.

  There it was…on the dresser. Beyond her on that side of the room was a large dresser and there it sat. It stared at me with shiny eyes and clicked its crustacean-like claws one the wooden surface. Clitter clitter. Then it chomped its pointed, interlocking mandibles together.

  Clickety click.

  I heard it breathe. Its breathing and her breathing perfectly in synch. It watched me. It knew I was insincere. It knew I had apologized to Geri and made love to her just to prove my theory. Not for her sake. Not for the sake of our relationship, but for selfish reasons.

  I watched as it climbed down the dresser and passed out of my field of view. I heard the claws pulling the fibers of carpet with a slight crunching sound as it moved across the floor and then the comforter pulled taught around her legs as it scaled the bed. One claw, then two came up over the edge. The tiny raspy breathing continued in rhythm with Geri's. More legs carried the body onto the top of our queen-sized mattress. It stared at me with its angry expression, clicking its mouth parts and moving deliberately and slowly in my direction.

  My mind raced and I knew it had the worst of intentions for me. Somehow her frustration and pain had become a living, breathing thing and were coming to exact revenge for all the verbal abuse, all the physical love I had denied her, all the respect I hadn't shown. It made me angry. It made me hate her. The creature grew as I watched, the angrier I got, the larger it became, smiling with its new found size. It was repulsive. Clicking teeth made me angrier. The sound grated on my very spine and resonated at the base of my skull. I did the only thing I knew to do.

  I kicked at it and it fell from the bed with a muffled thud. Rolling quickly, I stuffed my pillow over Geri's face. I put a knee to her chest and pressed the pillow down with all my strength, cursing her and screaming at her with fury and disgust. I would be damned if her frustration was going to hunt me in my own home. The creature shrieked and squealed on the floor, scrambling to claw its way back to the bed for an attack. Geri kicked and flailed under my weight, but she was of small stature, frail and weak by comparison. If that creature was her equalizer, I would beat it. I would win. She clawed at me and I pulled the pillow away, moving my hands to her neck to finish the job. I wanted to see her eyes bulge, watch her face turn dark, watch the capillaries burst in her eyes.

  Her last breaths were spent cursing me and calling me all the things she had wanted to over the dozen years of our troubled marriage. It wasn’t her normally melodious voice, but a craggy bark, barely audible in our room…a strangled sound, more like a belch than any human communication. As her body collapsed, I heard the monster wheeze behind me. I removed the pillow from her lifeless face and stared at her for a moment.

  In the movies, people almost always died peacefully with their eyes closed. Geri’s were open and her mouth was open as well. Her’s was a grimace that would forever be burned into my retinas and whenever I closed my eyes I saw it. It made me smile.

  The creature was gone when I turned away from the dead body. Nowhere to be found in the darkness or in the light. I didn't see it when I closed the door behind me or when I walked past the children's rooms. I didn't see it when I hopped down the staircase two steps at a time or when I went into the kitchen to call 9-1-1.

  “The bitch is dead,” I told the operator.

  She didn’t respond. Shock, maybe.

  Then I gave her the address which she already had.