Silk Web in the Mirror

Cinematic erotic-horror reel in a coastal-damp bedroom at night: salt-heavy air, faint TV hum,

moonlight in thin stripes. The camera sways like breathing over a dark ceiling,

dust motes drifting. Cut to silk sheets where fine threads stretch—beautiful, unnatural—tracing

a forearm shape beneath fabric, no nudity. The room seems to thicken as shadows

gain weight. A delicate tick-tick approaches, like spider legs or fingertips on

satin. A mirror catches the light—and reveals a second web inside the glass,

as if another version of the room exists behind it. In that mirror-web: a woman’s silhouette

wrapped in endless pale silk, face only in fragments—hollow-eyed, older, mouth open in a