The End

Amelia had once been a beautiful happy little girl my grandmother had once told me, and she had refused to see that she had changed, but my brothers and sisters bore no ill will toward kind and caring grandmother, and we wanted to remember her always. Amelia was now bed ridden, unable to move and no one knew why, men calling themselves doctors came and went but no one could cure Amelia as her hair turned white and her body sticky, no more strange men came to the house as Amelia laid unmoving in bed. She had become caring again as she relied on me to get her out of bed and my brothers to bring the paper. A year passed and soon Amelia was ageing again, she called it her birthday. We brought her a cake and lit it with fire, we sung in tiny broken voices a song of a happy birth and we heard her whisper a wish as her strong breath blew out the flame.

"I wish I could walk again" and as if by a miracle she started to rise, at first it was her harms, then her legs as she stood, but she didn't look happy as she took step after step, instead she looked scared as my brothers scurried along the walls, parting to show a hole carved out of the wall by dozens na thousands of working legs, and she walked insides. My brothers and sisters filed along the wall behind her until she stopped in the center of a hollow room with walls that seemed to always move. Amelia walked to the farthest wall, many of tiny bodies moving out of the way as she leaned back and then those bodies swarmed around Amelia only to move back when she was covered in a glistening white sticky string.

I watched as slowly she stopped moving as the ick dried her to the wall, my tiny head turning to see all the other sticky white bundles along the wall. One's who stepped on mothers siblings and the ones that set fire to grandmothers children all stood against the wall encased in the sticky white string.