It was dark when the figure collected the last of the spiders. All of then neatly compacted into a bucket. Both Cedius and Amalthea’s souls all collected in 100 little spiders. A clever sceem, but the figure needs them. With a heavy cackle, light an old newspaper alight with his cigarette and cast itjot the bucket. Not one spider survived the blaze. None could hear the collected screams of two fouls fighting for life.
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Later, by two months or so,
You are young Tory, a year free from graduating school, wonder aimlessly down and around a large glade, winding down from the dubiously named ‘Pleausre Island’ hotel. His had a lanky, athletic build. Curly brown locks skin which was lighlty olive. Beside him was Martha. She was a young, short haired with a mop of a finge, girl.
It was their get away,a celebration before the University life begun.
“What is up with this glade? The actual monument we slept into this place, I feel lost.” You say
“Don’t be daft. “ Martha told him, playfuly poking her friend.
You Pan round the glade, the setting sun making the scene come alive.
As you traveled down, a surreal smell swelled your senses.
“God it smells like David’s party...” Martha said.
You nod agreeingly. David was amazing when it came to going nuts at parties.
As the smell grew, you could hear music. Piles and songs.
Stepping closer, you found the source was behind a wall of bushes.
Behind the bushes, a man and a woman both squealed in delight.
“Oh, uh I think they’re...” you say.
“Having a party? Let’s go in” Martha laughs, slipping into the bushes.