Thread

I woke up in the middle of the night with a tingling sensation in my thigh. At first, I simply scratched and brushed it away, then I turned around abruptly and saw something that made my hair stand on end: a thin, shiny steel thread was reaching out from the corner and pricking me. I jumped up with a scream and turned on the light—the thread had disappeared.

I thought about it during the day and found it funny—I wondered if I'd dreamed it or imagined it. That night, I went to bed late and lay with my eyes closed for about ten minutes. When I opened my eyes again, I was horrified to see the thread again, stretching across the room toward me. Grabbing the first things I could find, I ran out of the apartment.

When I told a friend what had happened, he asked for my keys and said he wanted to check something. I plucked up my courage and went with him. Everything in the apartment was fine. My friend started rummaging around in the corner where the thread was coming from. After a while, he pointed out the eye of a needle sticking out of the wallpaper. He asked me for a pair of pliers and pulled the needle out, carried it up the stairs, and began heating it with a lighter.

Suddenly, my phone rang—an old acquaintance. I answered, and he started yelling at me to stop, asking for forgiveness, and swearing he wouldn't do it again.

I haven't spoken to that old acquaintance since—he's avoided me. My friend broke the needle and buried it somewhere a couple of yards away. He said the man must have decided to become a witch.