The pattern on the cieling is a complex spiral of shapes that writhe under and across and around each other. Snakes, and worms, and centipedes in bright orange and green and yellow and blue. Occasionally one of them falls, beginning to writhe along the cold marble floor, slithering or crawling across my bare feet and making me shudder.

I can't look away from the pattern. There may be something hiding in it. My neck hurts from craning it up to look, and my hands flex briefly before once again hanging limp at my sides. The room is too wide and too empty, and I can almost see beneath the pattern.

A normal cieling. Dark stars in a white sky. Shining jewels on the dress of some giant. A mural, depicting a lion lying dead, decaying and coated in worms and bugs and crawling things. An offered hand. A group of people, spinning and whirling, long hair and dresses alive with a dance. The deep sea. Tentacles and hands and arms, reaching out and down, towards me. I can feel them on my skin, just like the bugs. It makes me gag and gasp for air.

My hands move without me wanting them to. They move up to my face, pressing hard against my lower jaw. They stay there. It hurts my teeth to continue.

The pattern turns into a beautifully woven spiders web. I can smell a sickly sweet perfume on the air. Once again I gag and gasp for air.

Eyes. Eyes. Eyes. Legs. Legs. Legs.

Spiders eyes. Spiders legs.

Centipedes and worms and crawling things, snakes and spiders and spiralling patterns bright with color. Blue and orange and blood red and deep green and the slightest spots of unending blackness.

My hands relax from my jaw. They move forward, as though to make some kind of offer or to take something.

The pattern drops worms into my hands. Cold and fleshy, writhing worms. That awful scent again.

Look away. Look away. Look away.

My hands move upward, drawing towards my face. The worms taste sweet. So sweet. It almost distracts me from the feeling of some kind of fishing wire making its way inside me. Or perhaps puppet strings. Some cold silvery wire, or spiderweb that spreads throughout my body as I still cannot drag my eyes away from the pattern.

The pattern. The pattern. The.

Creature. Many faceted. Many faced. Many legged. Many eyed. Many mouthed.

Immense. Immense. Immense.

Creature hiding in the dome. Creature hiding in the pattern. Creature of the pattern. Creature.