Friday, 23 April 2010
There was a rustling noise, like the sound of dead leaves crackling along the ground, followed by a grotesque gurgling sound. Above them, the glittery sides of the enormous cocoon began to crease and crumple and swell. Silvery strands of silk were snapping and falling apart.
'Billy,' Abigail said, and she was squeezing his hand so tightly Billy thought his fingers would break. 'I don't like this. I don't like this at all!'
Something was moving inside the cocoon, wriggling and twitching in the last few stages of its metamorphosis. Through the thick, translucent folds of silk, a face was slowly materialising - a man's face, unformed and unfinished, with spidery, red veins creeping across the pale flesh like the tiny hairline cracks in a broken vase.