Darkness, and soft footsteps. Near, the tickling of querying antennae—food. I spring forward, wrapping my legs around the hapless intruder, pulling its squirming body toward my mouth. The legs kick against my face in useless struggle as my fangs pierce its shell. It grows still as I slowly consume the length of its body; millimeter by millimeter, it slides into my hungering center.
Darkness, silence, digestion.
Tired. Safe.
Safe in my little hole, in my darkness, where delicious, little snacks are bound to wander in. All I have to do is wait here. Soon the soft footsteps will return.
Tale Told 