Hairy Karma
By _Nobody_ 18 Comments
Locked eyes twitched ceaselessly, forehead frowned at every jactitation, white sheets hurled aside by the mere puissance of one leg swipe, sweat flows swimmingly through the muscular contour of a herculean physique, yet the plenteous health on the outer shell of that man barely could be noticed in his inner layers, thoughts of chaos, fear and loss haunted him as thousands of spiders crawled, performing a distasteful and ridiculously dreadful onslaught, blood trickled sluggishly throughout an amber flooring of sorts, delineating a carmine symbol, a beauteous spider-like figure, nourished by the vermilion blood expelled many nights ago. Promptly, it arose and leaped toward the debilitated man. Darkness. Emptiness. The screeches of the room reassembled leisurely, yet the fear palpitated his heart. Both eyes expeditiously open to meet his own edifice's room. The alabaster walls squeezing his petite apartment even more. The docile cacophony of yankee traffic jams were deafening already. He edged his lips upward, a sly grin emerged as he rubbed his eyes. "Even worst than the nightmare." The jocose statement absconded his dry mouth, pursued by a somewhat forced laughter.
"Same nightmare, it's getting more and more frequent. Born a spider mutant, developed Arachnophobia at the age of four. Ha, karma is a bitch!" He clowned for a moment, stretching until cracks could be heard from his back. "Damn, that was a good one." He erected from bed instantaneously, as if desiring to outpace those abhorrent thoughts until he succumbed to the delights of laziness once more. Since the arguably convenient first death of spider-themed vigilante Nobody, he had demonstrated interest in continuing the legacy, rotting as individuals stole the renowned name for their own purposes. He reminded of those days, lonesome at Gothic whilst uselessly endeavoring to track the heroic Luke Craig, the sole man that subdued the youth's fear of his own powers after awe-inspiring performances. Veraciously, most of Daniel's persona was exported from his idol. Even the rubicund and obsidian uniform he forced himself to utilize every night was entirely based on Nobody's cutting-edge suit.
He reclined over a chair, pouring extremely hot coffee into a mahogany hued cup, the vapor hovered narrowly above the liquid, traveling toward the captivated nostrils of Daniel. He tasted it and burnt his tongue. "Fucking coffee, man! Looks like I am drinking Mount Doom lava, dammit." He webbed his Nokia Lumia 925 and quickly the lyrics from Jump could be heard, followed by an epic keyboard solo. "Kay, best way to wake up ever. Now lemme check my agenda. Gotta go to university, then I got that PvP semi-final at SWtoR and the patrolling night with my new suit. Apparently Deborah's party is too tacky for me, better buy her some flowers or chocolate cause bitches love that kind of stuff.... Wait, did I just sound like I care?" He spoke prior to swiftly leaving. It was the first time he would actually spread the web, but only the future new which preys the carmine spider would make before getting squished like all the others of its kind.
Log in to comment