Book of Magic

[Short Story] Spider Woman (In Progress)

I traded my legs for spindles
To dance upon skinny ropes of steel
I traded my fingertips for needles
And my canines for venomous fangs
I traded my smooth-featured face
For a field of patchwork vision
But I traded my nightmares
For my sister's love.

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Disclaimer: This short story is still being written. I just figured I'd share what I have so far. Let me know what you think down in the comments, as well as if you have any ideas for what I should include or how I should continue.

~~@~~

ONE

I woke up that morning feeling perfectly normal. I blinked the dryness out of my eyes, and, when that failed, I forced myself to roll over and shove my limp body from its cottony cocoon and stumble to the bathroom across the hall.

Cupping cold water in my palms and soaking my face in it, I listened to the thumping sounds of my sister running through the hall and down the back steps to see what our parents had cooked up for her big birthday breakfast. I sighed; my dad and I had sneakily picked up a new PlayStation 4 for her yesterday before she had gotten home from her last day of seventh grade, and I was already anticipating hearing the Swiss-accented "Heroes ever die!" for the rest of the morning.

I walked back into my room and started digging around for clothes. As I did, a prickly, shivering sensation ran down my back from my nape to my tailbone. I paused, glancing at what I was doing, then looking around the room, trying to find the source. It wasn't the temperature—we were already entering summer, plus my room got the most heat in the house.

It's true, I've gotten random shivers before, but this wasn't one of those. It gave me an odd knot of anxiety in my stomach.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts, throwing on a casual mint-green tee and my worn fuchsia sweatpants. I swept my long, dark hair into a hasty ponytail and descended the stairs, only to find myself immediately thrown into chaos.

"Mama, can I put whipped cream on my waffles? Come on, please?" Mei was hovering around our mom as she bustled about with various ingredients and cooking utensils. Normally, my sister never got to add excessive sugary condiments to her meals, but today our mother turned to her with an I'm-not-going-to-win-this-one expression and handed her a fresh canister of fluffy, glorified milk.

I sighed as I entered the scene, snagging two whole-wheat waffles from the waffle iron. Plate in hand, I pulled up a stool to the polished granite counter that separated our medium-sized kitchen from the rest of the downstairs living space. My sister plopped down on the stool across from me clutching her own plate, focused entirely on creating the largest possible mountain of whipped cream. I leaned across the table, scrutinizing her attempt at creating perfect radial symmetry until she noticed me and glared. I sat back down.

"What? I was just looking." I huffed, pretending to brood by staring off into the distance. From the angle my head was turned, I saw our dad exit the back room and amble down the long hallway with his hands behind his back, bearing a grin. I glanced back at my little sister, the beginnings of a smile lifting the corner of my lips.

"Hey Mei, guess what Baba and I got you for your birthday?" I smirked mischievously, my voice rising in tone. I had caught her mid-bite with a little whipped cream hanging off her chin.

"Tell me," my sister demanded, not bothering to finish chewing.

"Ew, swallow first!" I exclaimed. "Guess you'll just have to find out," I added, attempting to put on an air of mystery.