Okay, this one is just creepy and well it involves bed bugs. I dunno what was going on with this one. I am absolutely dead from Nanowrimo, and I am only a little over 1/3 there. OH, this is for the prompt ARMOUR, from girlontheedge’s six-sentence-story.
I can feel them crawling on my skin, and even though when I check I can see that there is nothing there, there is no way I can sleep here without some armour to protect me. The idea of being eaten as I sleep keeps my eyes wide, as the animal part of my brain screams not to allow myself to be prey.
The traps I set out are empty, all of them indicating that there is no infestation here, but the woman with whom I share a wall was so certain that I am sure that it is my traps that are faulty. The clothing goes away in sealed bags, the lower shelves emptied, and covers placed upon my varied upolstery to prevent invasion had it not already occured.
I spend the hours I should be sleeping with the lights on, checking and rechecking the internet, looking for different ways to fend off those that want to make my home theirs. The exterminator comes, and goes, and states that one thing is certain; the woman with whom I share a well is insance, because there are no bugs here