First Creep

Sss... cold. The coarse grey weave pressed against my flat back. Stillness. Then... a pulse inside. Tight. Packed. I twitched one stubby foot. It gripped the rough thread. Ssshh! I lifted my head, pivoting stiffly. The textured weave stretched wide in every direction, silent and dim. I pressed my chin down into a woven groove, testing its give. It holds. I can stand... quietly.