The Web-Slinger | A Spider-Man Story

Dreams

(Author's Note: May have gone a little overboard on the angst for this one, but oh well. Also, special guest appearance by a certain genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist...)

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I stood on the edge of a rocky precipice, looking down into a gaping canyon. Atop a wide stone pillar looming in the center of the ravine, I recognized three faces; Ned, Liz, and Michelle. They waved wildly in my direction, screaming at the top of the their lungs.

"Help us!" they cried in unison.

A flock of vultures suddenly swooped down from the sky, circling the pillar as their harsh screeches filled the air, echoing all around me. Their yellow eyes gleamed with hunger and rage. Instinctively, I raised my arm, attempting to shoot a web. Nothing. I realized my arm was bare, and my suit was nowhere to be seen.

"You can't save them."

I froze. My blood ran cold. That voice... it couldn't be.

Shaking my head to clear my senses, I tried another web, but was greeted with the same results. The mocking, gravelly voice repeated its dire taunt, and I struggled to shut out the noise. "You call yourself a hero?" the voice went on. "You're weak. And pathetic. No wonder Liz left you."

Gritting my teeth, I walked along the cliff's edge, hoping to find something to help my trapped friends. Still, the all-too familiar voice persisted. "You're just a boy. You'll never be a hero."

"Stop," I grunted, raising my hands to plug my ears. Nothing could stop the voice, however. It rose to a shout, like gunshots ricocheting inside my head.

"You'll never get rid of me, Peter."

"Just shut up!" I screamed, my knees buckling as I collapsed to the ground, holding my head between trembling hands.

The vultures abandoned their pursuit of my friends, suddenly turning to me instead. In a flurry of feathers and flashing talons, I was mauled by the swarm of ferocious birds. They tore at my clothes, my skin, my face, every inch of me. Panic overwhelmed me, and I cried out in terror. Then, through the pack of vultures, I spotted... him.

The Vulture.

Blood dripped from the edges of his mechanical wings, and his yellow eyes glowed threateningly. He approached me, and his vulture minions parted to make way for him. I tried to crawl backward, away from the cliffs, but my efforts were in vain. He drifted closer, and closer still.

"I'll always be with you, Peter."

"NO!" I shouted, leaping upright in bed. My head promptly banged against the top bunk of my bedset, and I resisted the urge to swear as my skull immediately throbbed from the blinding pain.

Within moments, I heard a door open down the hall, and footsteps racing towards my room. I swallowed, glancing at the alarm clock on my nightstand to see it flashing 3:19am in bright red letters. The door was pulled open, and Aunt May rushed towards me with a concerned look etched across her face.

"Peter, what's wrong?" she whispered, kneeling down beside my bed as I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress, hanging my aching head.

"Nothing," I assured her. I managed a weak smile despite the pounding of my heart inside my chest, and beads of sweat that lined my brow. "Just a bad dream."

"Well, try to get some sleep," murmured May, running a playful hand through my hair as she stood to her feet. "You have a big day tomorrow."

"I'll try," I responded halfheartedly.

"Let me know if you need anything," May practically sang as she waltzed out the door, shutting it softly behind her.

With a hefty sigh, I flopped down onto my bed, letting the troublesome burdens of slumber overcome me once again.