Ben continued, his eyes wide with the earnestness that only a child possesses. “I crawled under the table, and I saw the lady’s shoes first. Then, I looked up and saw her dress moving. It wasn’t the wind, Mommy. It was spiders, lots of them, crawling all over.” His voice trembled slightly, as if the memory itself was enough to frighten him anew.
I blinked, trying to make sense of his words. Spiders? Under a dress at a funeral? It had to be a child’s overactive imagination, I reasoned. Still, an unsettling chill ran down my spine. I glanced around the room, scanning the guests. Everyone seemed absorbed in their own conversations, none showing signs of distress or discomfort.
“Are you sure, Ben?” I asked, my voice inadvertently taking on a more serious tone. “It might have just been a trick of the light, darling.”
