Eight Legs By Andy Tu

It started with an idea. A single thought like the first strand of a spider’s web. Then it mixed and twisted into patterns. And now my head’s caught in it, and I’m thrashing at my hair, scratching my eyes out because I don’t want to see. I don’t want anyone to see. So I hide. And write. And keep my mouth shut, and act a certain way, smile for my kids, but inside I’m screaming, because just before I fall asleep I feel a tickle on my head, and I jolt and thrash again. I’m wide awake.

© 2014 Andy Tu

Andy Tu teaches English at a private school and writes in his free time. He spent two years as a Peace Corps volunteer smoking weed, avoiding human traffickers, and ditching work. Life is best for him when he’s living on the edge.

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