Blood and Spider Legs

Ophelia awoke to Roscoe floating on the ceiling. Once he learned how to float, he rarely put his paws on the floor, preferring the freedom of weightlessness. If he had been outside when he began his float, he would have been far out of Ophelia's reach and on his way to god knows where. A passing plane might have clipped him, sending him into a tailspin he may not have been able to recover from. The perils were many, but since he was in the house, he was mostly out of danger.

Ophelia went downstairs to the kitchen to heat some blood for breakfast. Taking a mason jar out of the fridge, she poured its contents into a saucepan and turned the burner on low. It took about 10 minutes to get the chill off it and to reach body temperature, making the blood suitable for drinking. 

After breakfast, Ophelia went upstairs to shower. She invited Roscoe in, but he declined her offer, preferring instead to float in the hallway. While he was up near the ceiling, he noticed a spider in its web, floated over to it and ate it in one gulp. It tasted so good that he went throughout the house, at ceiling level, searching for more. He found and ate four more before his stomach started grumbling from its unfamiliar contents. Not long after, Roscoe floated down to the floor and vomited the five spiders, legs and all. Thankfully, only one of them was still alive, but barely. Roscoe watched as the spider sluggishly tried to regain its mobility, finally giving up and dying, folding in its legs, perhaps to protect its belly.

As Roscoe was about to eat the vomited spiders again, Ophelia came out of the shower and saw the small puddle of old blood and dead spiders on the floor.

"Where did you find the spiders, little man? Were they in the corners? Let me get some paper towels to clean that up."  Ophelia opened the small doors under the bathroom sink and retrieved the paper towels, but when she turned around, Roscoe had already cleaned up his own mess and was licking his lips. 

"I don't think I will ever get used to you eating your own vomit, Roscoe. I know you're a dog, but yuck!"

The pair went downstairs after Ophelia got dressed in a clean, bright white nightie that she pulled from her top dresser drawer. In the kitchen, she turned on the kettle to make them some blood tea, measuring out the powdered blood and tea leaves into her mug and his bowl. Then, she poured the boiling water and let everything steep for five minutes. Ophelia added some cold tap water to Roscoe's bowl so he wouldn't burn his tongue. Taking their drinks into the living room, Ophelia and Roscoe sat comfortably in the chair, sipping and watching the goings on through the picture window. A small cat ran across the front lawn, grabbing Roscoe's attention. He asked Ophelia to let him out the back door so he could sneak up on the cat in the front yard. Ten minutes later, Roscoe was at the front door, looking a bit banged up, but with a gigantic grin on his bloodied face.

"Oh my gods, Roscoe, are you okay? You look pretty messed up. Is that your blood or the cat's all over your face?"

Roscoe telepathically told her that it belonged to the cat. Ophelia scooped him up in her arms and hugged him tightly. He loved it when she hugged him hard like that. It made him feel special and appreciated. Then he drank the small amount of blood tea from his bowl and asked for more.

Ophelia obliged him and made them both a fresh cup/bowl of tea.

As before, the pair sat in the chair looking out the living room window. The pair watched the sky begin to lighten, the cue to head upstairs to the coffin bed and settle in for the day.

Roscoe floated up to the bedroom and was in bed before Ophelia was at the top of the stairs. 

She fell into bed, closed the lid, then got under the covers and got comfortable. "Good day, my handsome little cat killer. See you later tonight." And with that, she rolled over and was gently snoring minutes later.

Gail Fulkerson is a writer who specializes in writings of the supernatural. She lives with her family in Saskatchewan, where she is working on another story. This is a series about Ophelia Banks. 

Gail just published her new book: "Tales of the Macabre". The book is available at Turning the Tide bookstore in Saskatoon or online direct from Gail. Make a comment and I will pass on your information to her. Stay tuned to 'OZ' for future stories.