The nightmare was suitable material for a horror movie. The plot line needed work, but the ants were scary as hell. Moving, surging, undulating, waves of ants covering the ground, scaling the trees, making the tall grass shudder with their passage. A blanket of black, creeping like mold over everything in its path. It had internal motion: a pulse or a heartbeat like a single organism.

When I sat up in my bed screaming, I was drenched in fear-laced sweat and convinced my skin was coated with a thick layer of wriggling black ants.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “ants.”

Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

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