• She said how many there were would be unknown until the last one. Until then, I was left with another one.

    It was clothed on its own webs, ones that it created for itself. The webs were created with the silk of what it uses to better itself. Clothed in its own creation, a web of lies, it looked upon me as what it had become: a monster that destroyed from the inside. What it wants it strives to have. It killed itself by transforming into what it wants, a little change, a little bit of them gone with each new addition, never satisfied with what it was. Soon it created itself a place into so many others. It looks upon others and find what it wants, its desire growing. Sometimes it destroys to get what is wants, never considering its effects. Its destruction spreads, its poison infecting its host. Its desires cost it their life and those close to it. It unknowingly suffers in its own private deserted home, waste all around it; the waste what it used to be.