Close to being killed
As he chased me down the hallway, I knew deep down it was either me or him. This black bastard had forced his way into my home and was intent of getting me. I scurried up the stairs and headed towards my bedroom. As I looked over my shoulder, I saw that he had followed me and was clambering up the first step.
He was by no means a big lad, but he was quite gangly, and the way he carried himself was very imposing, with arms spread wide in a threatening manner. I was both livid that he’d had the cheek to come in unannounced, but also very scared about what he would do. He reached the landing and turned to face me.

A standoff ensued.

I stood in the opening of my bedroom door, too scared to say a word.

He looked back menacingly, and kept making small movements towards me before stopping again.

“FUCK OFF”, I bellowed.

He remained where he was. I felt a bead of sweat trickle slowly down my face, tickling me slightly.

Suddenly, he pounced and hurtled towards me.

I leapt backwards and jumped onto my bed waiting for his next attack. He was now in my room and he began approaching me slowly after his initial burst of speed. I decided to take action and I reached over to the bedside table and picked up the only object I could find to defend myself with; an empty mug. Deep down I knew it would be as good as useless, but now I was armed it seemed to make him think twice about coming any closer. My hand gripped the mug handle tightly, turning my knuckles white.
He was staring at me watching my every move, waiting for me to lose concentration so he could get to me.

‘One more step and I’m going to twat you so fucking hard’ I thought to myself. It was as if he’d heard my thoughts, or had I said them out loud? I wasn’t sure, I was too frightened to think straight, but he came at me once more.

I launched the mug from my hand with all the strength I had left in me. It cannoned off his face and he fell to the ground, with the impact causing the mug to smash. He lay on my bedroom floor, motionless, but I was wary of leaving the bedroom. To do so, I would have to step over his body, and I’d seen in the movies that you should never assume someone is dead. I waited for a further two minutes before I’d plucked up enough courage to get past him. I stepped down gingerly from my position on the bed and I was on the floor, moving slowly towards the door, pushed up as close to the wall as I could get.

SHIT! One of his legs twitched, and I panicked. All reason and thought left me and I smashed my foot down on his face. It was over now, I was sure of it.
I fucking hate spiders.
(Monkey the Chicken Twitter: death_stairs, Thu 19 Aug 2010, 14:52, 5 replies)

i've fought through a simliar scenario with moths
except they are much harder to hit. Dusty winged fuckers.
( Bamboo Steamer, Thu 19 Aug 2010, 14:58, closed)

You need a handheld vacuum cleaner
Turns the table nicely.
( evil_andy Stick stick stick stick sticky sticky stick stick, Thu 19 Aug 2010, 15:23, closed)

Very well written - hoorah!
Sadly I managed to read the last line first.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 19 Aug 2010, 15:09, closed)

That was awesome :D
*clicks for bravery*
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Thu 19 Aug 2010, 16:19, closed)

Half asleep about an hour ago and light started spilling into the bedroom. I look in the direction of the door and there's a huge spider pushing the door open. The thing was the size of my palm.

I'm currently sitting downstairs reading QOTW, too afraid to go to bed.
(Unit, Fri 20 Aug 2010, 2:50, closed)