Bug Cotton

It is a cool, but not cold day in Colorado. You and your family have just finished the long car ride from Nevada to your new house. Everyone in your family is stretching and moaning. They begin to unpack the gazillions of boxes that you have packed and shipped. You know that they are all too heavy for you and you would just cause trouble, so you decide to explore. The house you just bought is a big one. 3 stories and a basement, a dark brown hue, and tons of different roofs and windows everywhere. The dark shaded door stuck in the front stares at you, challenging you to enter. But just a turn away, is the cheery forest surrounding your house. Apparently, your parents didn’t want a city house, so they chose one far off from society and in the mountains. There is a small trail leading off into the forest, so you slip on your shoes and head off. Immediately after you enter, the sun goes away and you are swathed in darkness. The trail peers out at you from the shadows and beckons you to follow. It has twists and turns and splits and ends. You are not sure if you could find your way back, so you begin to shuffle your feet and leave a line in the road. You continue walking until a dark streak flashes to your left. Your head whips around, but the object is already gone. You look around to see where it could have gone. A little ways away, you spy a white wall thing and realize it must be hiding. The white object is off the path and through some bushes, but it isn’t that far. Gingerly, you step off the path and onto the hard ground. You begin to trudge to the white object. Plants begin to sprout around your feet and soon you are walking on them. You begin to notice there are tons of tiny little gray bugs along the plants. As you step near them, they fly away. Strangely, they begin to grow in size the closer you are to the white object. As you get closer, the white object looks familiar, but you can’t tell what it is. You can identify that it is made of separate strands linked together and to the trees. Almost like someone threw toilet paper all over the forest. You hear a crunch under your shoe. There was a bug the size of your hand laying, now squished, on the ground. Everywhere you look, these bugs are just laying on the bushes, covered with a strange cotton. You see some have made cocoons, even though you don’t think they are caterpillars. You take another step, almost to the white object. The leaves beneath you crumple under your weight and you are plunged into pit, filled with interlacing cotton. You struggle, but the cotton sticks to your face and clothes, suspending you in the air. The leaves above you shake. The black streak comes down and the world blacks out.