Overrun

If the creature had been only the body, it wouldn’t have attracted as much notice. But it wasn’t, so it did.

The body of the thing was a disc shape, matte black with only the faintest of charcoal gray dots scattered across the top, no larger than one of my mother’s old vinyl albums. In fact, it rather looked to me, at first glance, to be one of her records that had fallen out of its sleeve somehow.

That was before I saw the legs. It had eight of them, in all. But when it first unfolded the stick-like extensions, I only saw the three biggest sets. The last set was less than half the size of the other six legs.

From the center, the legs were hinged, so they could fold up completely underneath and unseen. Once unfurled, though, they were hideous. Spindly and glossy black with tiny silvery hairs sprouting along the length, the legs, just past the body joint, were nearly three feet long, completely horizontal to the ground. Then, at yet another hinge, more stick-thin leg sprouted, still covered in the metallic fuzz, straight down. That part of the leg was only about six inches long, including the wiry six-toed foot.

The smaller set of legs, while hinged almost exactly like the larger protrusions, seemed to be more like arms and hands than legs and feet, even down to the way the six thick wires on the ends moved.

Whatever metal it was made of was hard. I could tell that by the click-clack sound it made on the white ceramic tile of our kitchen. That, and the holes it left in the softer woods of the hallway floor as it stalked toward me.

Funny, the things you notice when adrenaline is coursing through your body. Like the fact that the creature didn’t have eyes. Or a mouth.

But it had to have some way to orient itself, because no matter which direction I tried to flee, it followed like a bloodhound. It never moved faster than a sedate walking pace, but it gained ground on my frantic pace.

I led it outside, hoping that it would find something more interesting to follow. In the slightly overgrown front yard, though, I saw several more of the hideous creatures. Each one lying dormant, legs folded up underneath, until I stumbled down the wooden porch stairs. They must have had some unheard way to communicate, too, because as soon as the one from inside appeared on the covered porch, four others unfurled identical sets of limbs and oriented on me.

My instincts told me to scream, but a quick look around the neighborhood said no help would be coming. There were easily five disc-spiders for each person running in terror. We were overrun.

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