Little Celia Peak

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Little Celia Peak lay a sleep in bed, the room lit by bright moon-light.
When a silken strands, a lonesome beam of silver, a red and black spider ascended from the ceiling and alighted upon her cheek.
It dithered there for only a moment no more and then hither off onto the pillow and was never to be seen there, here or anywhere again.

The next morning in the bright sunlight a red mark had appeared on little Celia Peak’s Cheek her face looked a little puffed indeed.
“Mummy, mummy!” She cried “There’s a red mark on my cheek.”
“Not to worry my little Celia these things come and go, now off and have your breakfast, dear!” Said Mummy dear a frown worn on her face.

The next morning in the bright sunlight the red mark had become larger had become redder and fattened little Celia’s face. And little Celia awoke with horrible face ache.
“Mummy, mummy” She cried. “The red mark on face it’s bigger and it hurts so…” Cried little Celia Peak.
“Oh my!” cried her Mummy dropping breakfast plates and all in a hurry to give her daughter a cuddle as if that could ease the malady away.
“We’ll call a doctor, and if necessary an ambulance if needs be to whisk you away and get rid of that nasty boil on your face and fever you have today!” Cried a tearful mummy reaching for the phone while cuddling the sobbing Celia into loving embrace.

“Well now,” said the doctor. Looking at the thermometer taken from little Celia’s mouth as her face was flush indeed. “This is not good, this is not good”.
He smiled shaking the thermometer and putting away in bag.
“Have you lost your appetite for good wholesome meals, even sweeties and does your tummy hurt sometimes?” The doctor inquired.
It wasn’t her tummy but her face that made her feel distinctly ill. The pain that gnawed and grew day by day had nothing to do with her tummy that crumbled in a satisfied way.
The doctor looked at the mark, prodded at the mark and then prodded the mark some more.
“Does it hurt here or there or only when I touch it here?” Diligently and gently the doctor inquired when it the mark first appeared.

“Well?” She heard mummy. The door was closed but the landing was always good acoustics for Celia’s ear.
“Nothing to worry you or daughter’s pretty heads about only a fever and it looks to me like a bite of a spider or insect that’s gone a little bad caused the infection soon be right as rain and as sparkling as a new day.” The doctor said in his voice of jocular ease.
But that’s not how Celia felt. No she did not feel like that at all. She felt as if her face was growing fatter and bigger and less of Celia and more of something else; something so hungry it would eat her all up.
But the doctor had yellow and green pills to give one after dinner and one at night to ease the pain and the other to bring her temperature down and stop it soaring so eventually all that Celia would be doing is snoring.

At midnight time when the mice are on the lookout for food and owls and cats patrol the night. And sensible parents and their children are all asleep. Celia gasped and woke-up and stared straight at the ceiling above. She felt skin move as the bump erupted out and skin shredded and blood was spilt as a thousand hungry baby spiders clambered out. They moved fast and hungry swarming her face, scalp and mouth until every orifice was covered with feeding little mites that borrowed and ate as if the world would end.

The next morning fresh and bright Mummy could find no trace of little Celia, though she looked in wardrobes, under bed and all the places that little girls hide out. No trace was ever found of little Celia Peak from that day to this to the grave, even when they mummy and daddy moved away – of their daughter most dearly of her fate they never learnt.

So tonight dear child or adult who sleeps in bed makes sure that a red and black spider should not land and leave it’s children beneath your skin or else your fate could be the same as little Celia Peak.

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