You Aren't Supposed to Read This

God damn it! Why did you open this? Why did you start reading this?! Well, there’s no turning back now. You realize that you’ve started something that can’t be undone.

You’ve obviously heard people refer to reading a story as entering another world. And you’re wondering how it is that authors are able to create another world like that. But then you remember that you’ve heard the rumors that many authors have access to a magical mechanism that, in starting a story, peels back the curtains that hide other realities and serves them up on an LCD platter. You’re trying to remember when you’ve heard that before, and why it is that it almost feels like brand new information? But then you remember… you forget a lot. Of course. Memories come back to you often and they feel like they’re new information. This isn’t the first time your brain has deceived you. 

And then another rumor dances around in your brain, one you’ve forgotten until its return right this instant. It’s the rumor that some other authors don’t have access to the fully-functioning mechanisms, rather they have access to the ones that work only every 20 or so attempts. Now you know that this is what you’re working with. You’re working with an author with access to this partially-functioning mechanism… and all the danger that comes along with it. Because it’s dangerous when people read one of these stories while the window is open. People are not supposed to be present during this.

But you’ve been gambling all along, because you knew 19 out of 20 of these stories would be harmless. You’ve always been like the risk-taker in Vegas who isn’t worrying about the what ifs. You’ve always known that reading stories from this author is a crap shoot. And now, you have to worry about your crap chute.

That’s right, the danger of being present when one of these windows opens up is scary for your ass metaphorically… but you think it might be a danger physically as well. Without realizing it, you pucker that sucker right up, but the sound of clenching cheeks is unmistakable as they tighten up against that fabric.

Everything around you becomes a little warmer. No, that’s not an increase in temperature in the outside world, that’s the window created by the magical mechanism. The heat first sets in around your hairline, warming your bare skin underneath it. You only felt it a small bit at first, but now you can’t ignore it. And that heat is spreading down, ever so slowly, warming up your entire face. Your jaw clacks back and forth in an uncomfortable manner, but it does nothing to stop the spread of the heat crawling all over your body. It’s spreading like a spider stretching after an afternoon nap. You can’t help but notice all of those long legs, daddy. Their warm, furry, prickly touch tickles your skin as it expands.

It’d be one thing if it was just a strange heat that felt like a spider. But you’re not so lucky, are you? No, it’s the infamous heat spider that lives among these windows into other worlds. And they’re no garden variety, one-inch wonders. No, these spiders can grow to be as big as you. That’s why that growing heat all over your body, spreading in eight different directions… that’s why it can simultaneously reach your head, your fingers, your toes, and yes, even your clenched spots.

That's what the spider is doing right now. It's tracing along every corner of your body with those strong, long legs.

The only way to get rid of the heat spider is a shiver!

The chills frighten you… but they help. There’s a slight lingering heat on your body, but you know the spider is gone. It’s just the remnants of her predatory body staining the flesh beneath your skin. Yeah, she got inside of you a bit. You flex your cheeks to make sure you kept that opening as closed as possible. You wonder if she made it through the back door. Hopefully not, they love laying their eggs in dark places.

But you know the eggs will only hatch if she comes back to attend to them, so even if they are there, you just need to keep her away. You’d be happy if that was your only worry at the moment, but unfortunately, that’s not the only problem the window presents. This story is exploring your world, and it’s putting its feelers out there. That’s not good for you, because those feelers love to inspect warm bodies.

You just had to go and be warm-blooded, didn’t you?

You’re waiting for the slimy tentacles to come out of the screen so you can dodge them, but it dawns on you that you don’t see in the correct prism of light and color to detect them. If you were a chameleon, you’d be able to see things in the UV spectrum. Hey, if you were a chameleon, you’d be cold-blooded, and the tentacles wouldn’t be interested in you. You wouldn’t be worrying about any of this. But for one of a million reasons, you’re disappointed to not be a chameleon.

You won’t see these tentacles coming. They might be reaching out for you right now. 

And you know that stopping here and running away is the worst thing you could do. The tentacles do love a chase, and once their potential prey is on the run, they never relent. They’re so much more destructive and sadistic when a back is turned to them and limbs are flailing. 

No, you know you need to stay right where you are and wait for them. And if they should touch you…

What’s that? An itch? An itch from inside… 

That could be the spider’s eggs. It could also be your mind playing tricks on you. But now that you’ve read the word itch, now that you’ve thought about an itch, god damn, that itch is there. It won’t go away. Did it manifest through words? Or is that a real itch? Is that really spider eggs… 

A slight gust of something from an unknown source. Of course, the tentacles love to mask themselves as the wind.

They’re here.

First feeling your face, then gliding down your neck, and starting to inspect the corners and crevices that you’ve left exposed. Maybe it’s just an armpit. You’re hoping they angle for the armpits. Pleasant and sweet smells, that’s what the tentacles hate. You’re trying to remember… did you apply deodorant beforehand? How long ago was the last time deodorant or soap or shampoo touched our body? Is it still having a lasting effect?

If the tentacles detect freshness at the intersection of arm and pit, you’ll be in luck. They’ll flee and not search anywhere else. If that intersection doesn’t deter them, if you’ve gone off brand or eschewed a day of soap because it wasn’t necessary, then you might have a problem. Those tentacles will keep searching, and just like the spiders, they search for dark, damp places. And you’ve heard people joke about others who think “they’re shit don’t stink” but uh oh… how long do all your areas stay fresh?

And what is with these seemingly perverted creatures with a multitude of limbs?? Not to kink shame, but you’re perplexed as to what the fascination is with… 

Uh oh. Slight brush of wind along the midsection. Still exploring big fella? Which freeway we taking? North or south? North is lovely this time of year. Not to brag but, well, weights have been lifted, curvy roads are to be experienced up north.

The gust is gone.

The tentacles are gone.

You must have done a deep dive in your bellybutton last time around in the shower; it was marinated in floral fantasticness. You’ve made it past the heat spiders, and you’ve battled the invisible UV tentacles. But the window isn’t quite done yet. You’re still engulfed in it. It’s still searching. And there’s one more hurdle for you to leap over.

Before you can brace yourself for it, it’s here. That odor, that taste, the one that permeates every inch of your being. It has a mustiness to it, with just a hint of something savory. It’s as if something was killed, cooked up, and then left to rot. It would be one thing to smell that in your vicinity, but why does it feel like it’s coming from within you? Why do you taste it in the back of your throat? Why does each breath through your nostrils enhance the smell bit by bit?

Is it happening now? Is the cooking happening now? Why do authors use such a sadistic mechanism just to be able to write a decent story?? Are they monsters themselves? Or are you to blame, because you rolled the dice too many times and never chose to play it safe? The author just wanted a glimpse, but you… you had to go and stand in front of the mechanism as it was shredding the barrier between worlds. You had to position your whole self, your whole life, right in front of something with such awesome power that you can’t even comprehend! You had to decide to read this god damn, stupid, albeit entertaining, fucking story!!

The smell is increasing.

The taste is everywhere.

Your lips have a salt on them that they didn’t have before.

Are you being prepared?

For what? For who? Which seasonings? Will thyme be included? It goes with everything.

And now you just wish you had an herbal DeLorean playing tunes from Cher.

“If you could turn back thyme…”

But it’s all in progress, and you forgot the most important thing. You forgot how to battle away the third wave of the window. It was by remembering that the first wave was the one that would come back.

Mama spider.

You were so fixated on the smell, you hadn’t realized that you were getting warm again. You had forgotten to get so frightened that you’d induce a chilly shiver in order to ward her away.

Or did you?

Time will tell. Those little baby spider eggs would hatch in mere seconds. And you won’t hear the sound. But upon hatching, they release such high levels of a psychoactive substance, that you will begin to hallucinate words floating in front of your face. It’s a clever trick by these baby spiders, because they’ll let you see words that tell you it’s all over. They’ll let you know it’s… 

THE END.