Spider-Man and The Esper

20. The Spider's Mind

He was standing in a dark alley, cold, alone. And It wasn't just a cold sensation fabricated by his sleeping mind. No-it wasrealcold, tangible on his skin and in his lungs as he breathed. The wind lapped at his face as it billowed gently by with all the absoluteness of reality. The trash scraping along the asphalt as it caught the breeze sang faithfully in his ears. This didn't feel like a dream at all. The fact that he was even able to stand there and ponder the dream's authenticity without his mind being automatically snapped awake by the realization confused him even more. His head did not feel foggy, his vision was not obscured. Every thought and every image stood out with crisp, sharp clarity.

"Spidey..." A disorderly high pitched voice called out from all sides in the darkness.

He went stiff. His fingers froze against his skin. Spider-man had heard this voice before, at a time that seemed so long ago. His breaths shivered as they slipped from his lips. His eyes were wide in the faint light of the moon.

"Who...who's there?" he whispered to the darkness, rooted to his spot in the alleyway. He couldn't see past the large trash bin squatting to the left. The rest of the narrow passage was vacant of light.

A laugh suddenly echoed from every which way, "It's been a while hasn't it."

The darkness stirred to life. It crawled towards him ever-so-slowly along the walls, the earth, the sky, moving as organic shadows. A cold bead of sweat slithered down his face. The man tried to take a step back, but his legs were stiff as stone.

"No, you're dead!? YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!"

The shadows writhed in amusement and purred with laughter. "Why, I want everything from you. I want your friends. Your loved ones. Everything you hold dear. I want to take them them from you. I want to consume them. I want to leave you with nothing but your misery and loneliness."

Immediately, Spider-man's vision shifted. He was in a hospital room. He was standing beside the bed as a soft beeping noise sounded from a machine. Under the thin covers, a frail woman lied motionless, asleep. It was his mother. She looked like a skeleton. Pale, paper-thin skin was stretched across her hollow cheeks and sunken eyes. Michael breathed unsteadily, stepping closer to her. He reached out to nudge her awake.

"Mom? Are...are you-?"

She shot out of bed. Her bony fingers suddenly seized him by the wrist. He sucked in his breath and tried to pull away, but her grip was like iron. When her eyelids slowly peeled open, there was nothing behind them but voids of darkness.

"Michael," she whispered, her raspy voice sending chills rippling down his spine."What have you done to me? Why did you leave me here to die?"

Shuddering, he shook his head left and right. "No. No, I didn't!?"

"Why did you leave me?" She repeated viciously. The darkness began to pour out of her eyes, her mouth. It began oozing from her skin and swallowing her in an inky envelope. "Why did you leave me?" It slithered up her arm, down her fingertips, on to Michael's hand. No matter how hard he tried, he could not wrench himself free.

"Let me go! Let me go, please!"

"Why did you leave me!?"

"I didn't leave you! I would never leave you!"

"Why did you leave me here to die...?"