A 50-Word Story a Day Keeps the Boredom Away #55

Beatrice lay naked on the bed thinking of her lover.

‘Ouch!’ she cried.

Something bit her thigh. She inspected the bedsheets. A tiny spider.

She wanted to crush it, but it was so peculiar that she put it on her belly. It crawled round and round her navel, tickling her.

This week I am super busy writing Oliver Colors’ biography, so I will be republishing some choice 50-word stories.

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18 thoughts on “A 50-Word Story a Day Keeps the Boredom Away #55

  1. Hey BWAT….wait, isn’t this a reblog? I’ve read this or something like it before from you.

    Seb would say…”and she rolled over and killed the bast**d.”
    “Deserved it too,” he would add.

    Your themes of allowing the self to experience hurt/pain (as a thwarted form of pleasure) rather that using a more common or usual method of coping by pain avoidance (or pleasure principle) is coming through… Randy

    1. I think Seb you actually say that indeed I have some fetishes involving the female bellybutton and that would explain why Randy thinks this post to be a reblog. And I really think that girl was quite happy with the tickling the spider gave her.

  2. Creepy!
    A little yellow spider bit me and it was the itchiest saucer-sized bulls-eye bruise I’ve ever had. I have a kitten now and he eats all my spiders for me. For room, and board of course. 🙂

  3. A poem about a similar incident, from 2008ish:

    The spider sat upon her shoes,
    Eley Kishimotos,
    He thought “this tender, milky flesh…
    I will follow where it goes

    The spider crawled up to her shin
    And circled round her ankle
    She said “Mr Spider, I haven’t crushed you yet
    And for that you should be thankful”

    The spider cooed “Mrs, don’t be so harsh
    Or show such animosity
    I’m just a harmless little spider
    With a harmless curiosity”

    She looked down at the spider
    And said ‘oh, spider dear –
    What exactly is it that
    You expect you will find here?”

    The spider scurried ‘cross her skin
    In a sideways, spidery dance
    “Your pale, cool flesh excites me
    It is of its own romance”

    She said “All right, Mr Spider
    I’ll let you rove and roam
    Just you know that there are places
    That your eight arms have no home”

  4. This is great. I can never write stories short like this. It isn’t a poem so it must be a story– yet even my POETRY is longer than this. It’s short and gets the message across; beginning, middle and end. I adore it. I could frame it. I won’t, but I could. I think instead I’ll like it and bookmark it.

    Cheers,
    Eris

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