DEAD CHARLOTTE

 The girl stood in the corner of her bedroom, looking up at the spider for a long time. It was a dark shape lying on its back, legs slightly bent like a tired trapeze artist on a cobweb. It was dead. The girl ate it. She dreamed of withered clowns that night – and all the nights after.

Nowadays, she might notice dead spiders hanging lifeless from time to time, but she doesn't eat them anymore.

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