Chapter 15: “Fucking again?”

The screen flickered to life, illuminating the dark room with the grainy glow of Farmer’s Daughters 17. The title card appeared in bold, faded letters over an idyllic shot of rolling hills and a red barn. Gentle country music strummed in the background as the names of actors—faux Southern pseudonyms like “Buck Hardy” and “Dixie Delight”—rolled across the screen. The camera lingered on the barn as the soft hum of cicadas blended with the faint whinny of a horse.

Slowly, the view began to pan, as if the camera were exploring the space. The television dissolved into the background as the picture expanded, taking on a surreal clarity. The soft glow of the TV light became warm sunlight streaming through wooden slats. The barn grew larger, its earthy smells of hay and wood mingling with the distant hint of sweat and leather.

Jeff stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders cutting a confident silhouette against the glowing sun behind him. The barn now surrounded him completely, vibrant and alive, as the movie on the television seamlessly transitioned into the vivid landscape of his dream.

Debra was there, leaning against a post in the barn, her plaid button-up tied just below her chest and her impossibly short denim cutoffs clinging like they were made for her alone. Her straw hat hung lazily on her back, her hair cascading over her shoulders like golden threads in the sun.

She looked up, a sly grin on her lips. “Oh, you know you best not let Pa catch you hangin’ around me, Jeffery. You know what he said.”

Jeff smirked, swaggering into the barn, the sun glistening off his shirtless, chiseled torso. “Yeah, I know. But I just can’t stay away from you.”

Debra’s eyes sparkled mischievously as she pushed off the post, sauntering toward him with slow, deliberate steps. “Oh, Jeffery,” she cooed, her voice dripping with a thick Southern drawl. “Come here and let me ride that stallion!”

Jeff raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “You sure you can handle it, sweetheart? Stallions are for real riders.”

Debra didn’t answer. Instead, she closed the distance between them, pulling him into a kiss so exaggerated it could have come with a slow-motion replay. The camera of Jeff’s subconscious tilted and zoomed, catching every angle of the absurdly passionate embrace. Somewhere, an unseen guitar strummed a sensual riff.

“Jeffery,” she moaned as they broke the kiss. “You make me feel things no man ever has.”

“That’s because no man’s ever been me,” Jeff replied, his voice a low, husky rumble.

Debra’s laugh was soft and sultry, her hands trailing down his chest. “You’re one of a kind, Jeffery.”

Jeff grinned. “Damn right I am.”

The scene was as ridiculous as it was intoxicating. It was so over-the-top, so drenched in saccharine passion, that Jeff’s mind began to question its own reality. Something wasn’t quite right.

Debra’s expression shifted suddenly. Her playful smile twisted into something far more sinister, and her voice dropped into a deep, unfamiliar accent.

“You’ve been a bad boy, lad.”

Jeff blinked, stepping back. “What did you just say?”

Her features started to contort, her soft, radiant skin sagging like melting wax. Her hair darkened and thinned, falling out in clumps. Her eyes—those familiar, bright eyes—were swallowed by black ichor, leaking down her cheeks in viscous streams.

“Debra?” Jeff asked, his voice trembling.

She laughed, the sound no longer melodic but guttural, almost insectile. Her jaw unhinged, stretching impossibly wide, and from her mouth spilled an unending tide of spiders.

Jeff screamed as the first wave of arachnids hit him, their tiny legs scratching and clawing at his bare chest. He stumbled backward, swatting at them frantically, but it was no use. They were everywhere.

They poured from her mouth, her eyes, even the seams of her clothing. Millions of them, a relentless tide of black and brown bodies glistening in the golden light of the barn.

“Stop!” Jeff shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of skittering legs and clicking mandibles.

The spiders were inside his pants now, their legs prickling against his skin as they crawled upward. He felt their hairy bodies wriggling beneath his waistband, and he screamed, clawing at his jeans.

One darted into his mouth before he could close it. He choked, coughing and gagging, but more followed, forcing their way down his throat. He could feel them in his chest, their legs scratching at his insides as they scuttled deeper.

Others found his ears, the sensation of their legs against his eardrums sending waves of nausea through him. He slapped at his head, desperate to stop them, but it was no use. He could feel them burrowing into his brain, each tiny movement a new agony.

They were in his stomach now, wriggling through his intestines. He could feel them tearing at the delicate lining of his guts, their bodies shifting and pressing against his organs.

His screams turned to choked gurgles as spiders poured from his mouth, their tiny legs wriggling as they crawled over his face. His vision blurred, his body convulsing as the spiders consumed him from the inside out.

He collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain, his hands clawing at his skin as if he could tear them out. The barn spun around him, the golden light now a sickly, pulsating orange.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

Jeff jolted awake, his body convulsing as he fell out of bed. His heart pounded in his chest, and his breaths came in short, ragged gasps. He slapped at his arms and legs, certain he could still feel the spiders crawling on him.

It took several moments for reality to set in. He was on the floor of his apartment, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. His chest heaved as he tried to calm himself, but his skin still crawled with phantom sensations.

The television flickered in the corner, the soft-core porn still playing. Jeff’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the barn on the screen, the setting identical to his dream.

His stomach churned as he caught the faint, sickly sweet smell of decay. The room seemed to tilt as he staggered to his feet, stumbling toward the window. Pulling back the curtain, he saw the courtyard bathed in the red and blue glow of police lights. Yellow tape cordoned off yet another crime scene.

Jeff stared at the scene below, his mind reeling.

“Fucking again?” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

He let the curtain fall, the weight of the nightmare and the reality outside pressing down on him like a vice. He didn’t know what was happening, but he now had to figure this out, if not just for the whole Twilight Zone crazeiness of it all.

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