I stood there at the top of the stairs, transfixed. Just ten steps below, the basement floor appeared to be moving. To my horror, I could see a swarming mass of centipedes blanketing the entire floor. Millions of them were crawling and writhing over one another at a rapid pace, a horde of hungry carnivores desperately seeking food.
I gasped at the sight of them and for a split-second, the mass seemed to pause. Were they listening? Could they feel the pounding of my heart? I looked toward the bottom step. Centipedes were clambering over themselves searching for footholds to ascend the step. Wave after wave rushed toward the steps. Late-comers to the charge flanked the outsides, scaling the walls of the stairwell. There were fewer obstructions there; the advance rushed toward me. In seconds they reached the threshold of the steps.
I tried to move, but couldn’t. I was in a
trance, induced by the soft, muffled, rhythmic sounds of the killers’ legs.
Millions of legs. All of them moving, rippling in unison. All of them coming
toward me. Again I tried to move, to free myself from the hypnotic state I was
in. Again I could not.
On they came. In a rush, hundreds of them swarmed over my feet and ankles, their spindly legs running over me. I felt thousands of stings, as their tiny mandibles sought to bite and tear away my flesh. I screamed, again and again. My blood flowed out among them. The taste of it frenzied them even more. The pain was unbearable. I prayed for unconsciousness, but the terror running through my mind prevented it.
They were climbing higher now. I could no longer see my body. I’d become a mound of centipedes. Nausea flowed through me. I was getting weaker, my flesh was being devoured from the bones. The weight of the mob was overwhelming. I cried out again and fell over backwards into the mass of writhing bodies, legs, and blood.
Then I woke up.