Chapter Twenty Six
Sat, the spider watches from within the deadly, heady web of pheromone trap. Waits for the kill, why should he chase? Oh, they come to the slaughter so willingly – offering their lifeblood to quench the thirst, to appease the Hunger.
A dead tongue flickers across a carnal fang, hidden behind his pale, marble lip.
It pounds to the rhythm of the heartbeats, in syncopation.
See… Already the stranger approaches, the fly enters the inescapable web, she – unknown – prepares to become the bringer of peace to the walking corpse.
Never rest, only momentary peace.
She catches his eye, holds onto the cold blue gem set perfectly in a marble statue that is so handsomely and yet cruelly carved.
The black silk of her dress sways sensuously.
The victim enters the parlour.
© 1990 & 2006 Andrew M Boylan