Baby, I know you’re a little freaked out after the movie,
and that’s natural, it was kind of a freaky movie. With hindsight, a midnight
showing of a horror film might not have been the best idea. But, and I can’t
stress this enough, you don’t need to be nervous.
Don’t worry; everything will be terrifying from now on.
We’ll get home, fix a snack, make a pot of tea, convince
ourselves that the irregular thumping on the walls is just the sound of pipes
settling, and head to bed. You’ll wake up in a cold sweat after something pulls
sharply on your left leg, turn over and see me, fast asleep, muttering in
something that sounds suspiciously like Latin being spoken backward, head to
the bathroom, squeeze your eyes shut when the walls start dripping blood and, when
you finally suppress your unvoiced scream and open them again, you’ll convince
yourself it was your own sleep-addled brain playing tricks on you.
And by the time you get back to bed, the whispering at the
back of your mind telling you that you’re all alone and that nobody will save
you will be something you’re so used to that you can almost ignore it.
By morning, of course, the baby-headed spiders will be
nearly done their hive in the closet. But you’ll wear a t-shirt, so you won’t
realize it’s there until three or four days from now. Which will be two or
three days after you’ve killed me with an axe, believing that I’ve been
replaced with a perfect replicant that hungers for human blood.
Which, by the way, will not be the case. It will actually be
me that you kill. Still, the bloodthirsty replicant will continue going to work
in my place, so you’ll never be questioned about my absence. Not that the
police would have much time to question you even if they did realize that the
real me was dead, chopped up and hidden in the hallway linen closet.
Because, like I said, three or four days from now, you’ll
open the closet to find a button-up blouse, and realize that the baby-headed spiders
have long since occupied it, and moreover that they’ve been breeding freely.
And, finally freed from their confinement, the first thing they’ll do will be
…well, I don’t want to give away EVERYTHING that will
happen. After all, what is life without surprises, right? Sufficed to say, it
won’t be pretty, and you aren’t likely to make it out of the room. But, if you
do manage to make it to the door, get past the ghost twins and find your way
down the endless echoing hallway and out of the suddenly abandoned building,
don’t take any pleasure from it. The only thing your unlikely survival would
mean is that you get to see what happens to the world around you once the
plague of baby-headed spiders is released upon the unsuspecting city.
And that might be the worst part of it all.
No, wait, the coming of the Hungry Ones. Had I mentioned
they were coming? No? That’s my bad, they are, I’ve invited them and they
assure me they’re coming. And that’ll definitely be the worst part of it all,
that part will be really bad.
So, you see, your life going forward will be an endless
nightmare. You will know no peace, no moment of respite, for the rest of your
potentially very short existence.
From here on in, everything will be terrifying.
I’ve already arranged it all.
And that’s why, you see, there’s no need to worry…