A Spider on My Tongue

It is said that if ghosts were real, they'd be everywhere - at shopping malls, parking lots, in the parlor, the bathroom, on the sidewalks and boulevards. (After all, how many people have lived and died throughout human history?) But maybe, just maybe, they are everywhere - on your lap at this very moment, in the walk-in closet, in the grand oak tree just outside your window, in the shower, the cellar - mumbling, grinning, stumbling about, screaming - but only a chosen few of the living have been blessed with the awful gift of being able to see them, hear them, interact with them, tormented by them.

That's the awful gift that Abner W. Cray opened two decades ago, and it's a gift that, even today, keeps on giving: It possesses him, seduces him, makes his life (if it can be called a life) much, much more than a nightmare because, he knows; he's not asleep - he is mortally and eternally awake. And that is the spider on his tongue.