Tabitha Read Online Free PDF

her vibrator, yawning like a foghorn.
Unsuccessful, the silver plant tried to wrench its spiked tongue quietly from
the back of the chair. Mog came back in and watched it cautiously from the
door. Once free of the chair, the plant swallowed its tongue back inside. Its
body sagged with newborn exhaustion, and splayed out
metallic branches to absorb the growing moonlight. Its tiny lights flickered
out while it recharged, and it sat completely still. Mog stalked around it,
approached it. He gave it a careful sniff here and there, and batted it with a
paw. The silver plant did nothing. It was too hard for Mog to pluck or chew,
and smelled of not very much, so it held very little interest just now. Mog
gave up his inspection and resolved to play with the plant’s wriggling limb in
the future, when the opportunity presented itself.
     
    Tabitha slept peacefully that night in
her double bed. She was sprawled out with newfound freedom; no longer kicked or
groped by a snoring boyfriend. Her soles stroked the bobbly feel of clean
sheets. The homely perfume of good washing powder filled her head and tinted
her dreams. Down the street, Mog strode along a garden wall and thought about
sex. In Tabitha’s bathroom a silverfish tapped the house spider's hunched
corpse with its antennae. In the study, the alien plant woke up in the corner.
It folded its branches down into spider legs, and uprooted itself from the
floorboards with a rustling creak. It scuttled its sleek form down the stairs
to the large landing, sniffing out prey. Tabitha’s closed bedroom door thwarted
it. It scrambled gently, soundlessly against the door for hours while Tabitha
slept. The tall gap beneath the solid door could accommodate its skinny young
limbs, but they flapped around redundantly and soon withdrew. Tabitha turned
over and began to snore, blissfully unaware. Her ugly old piggy bank watched
over her from the shelf beside the bed; perma -grinned
porcelain, glowing night-blue in the curtained moonlight. The silver alien
spider slinked downstairs to explore the distant drone of the fridge.
     
    Sunrise over the sea front. The seagulls
were calling already. Mog sat on the living room window sill and watched them
keenly, making short sharp meows. His head darted back and forth to follow their
flight. His pinprick pupils stared in the bright dawn. Tabitha, fresh from the
shower and towel-clad, padded barefoot into the kitchen. She rustled cereal
into a bowl and caught a waft of it, sugar-sweet. Water dripped from her hair
onto the worktop; glassy splashes exploding in slow-motion. Cold milk crackled
on her cereal, a silky white gush. She smoothed her wet hair over her shoulder
and dusted her cereal with extra sugar, then flicked the kettle on and leant
against the worktop while it boiled. She leaned over and plucked a clinking cup
from the hooks. Took a clattering teaspoon from the drawer in front of her and
put it in the cup. The silver spider untucked its legs and crawled silently
from the cupboard behind her. Soundlessly it crept across the wall, and
squatted its arachnid mass on the ceiling over her head. Small lights on its
body focussed their attention on the top of her wet neck. Its spiked tongue
slid out from its parting mouth, a shining trunk slick with mucus. Silently the
giant spider shifted its clawed feet around on the ceiling for the best
position. It moved one leg, then another, then another. Soft as petals it
lowered two clawed legs to join its tongue, ready to grip Tabitha’s temples
before it punctured the base of her skull. Tabitha waited for the kettle and
stared at the floor in a bleary-eyed haze, oblivious. She wiggled a finger in
her ear with a wet rattling squelch to loosen the water that welled there. The
kettle boiled. Steam rolled up against the cupboards and clouded the cold metal
arms that descended, inch by inch. Condensation gathered on the lowering spike
and turned to droplets. Propped against the kitchen counter, Tabitha put