It's the Little Scares in Life That Are the Best

It's not often that a good horror novel or movie scares me.  But tonight was the exception. 

I was on the basement floor earlier tonight reading Ed Lee's Monstrosity, one of the creepiest novels I've read in a long time.  My rabbit Woody was in front of me, being petted with my free hand, while his girlfriend Cinnamon was off hiding in her warren.  I became engrossed in the book, especially the scene in which Bill-Boy the poacher runs across a lake filled with mutated insects.  This was the scene I was reading:

It was no yard-long length of yarn, it was a yard-long millipede, some kind of bizarre aquatic millipede that he didn't even know existed.  He held it close at one end, the end the head was on, while the rest of it quickly curled around his arm.  He could feel the thousands of tiny hair-like legs moving....

At that moment, I felt something crawl across the back of my leg.  I don't know who jumped higher -- me or Woodstock, who got startled out of a pleasant pet.  I turned to see what was attacking me.  Cinnamon had snuck out of her warren and chose that precise moment to nose nudge the back of my leg, the whiskers tickling just like the tiny legs of a millipede.  I watched her pudgy little butt running back to her warren, a happy jaunt in her hop because she had scared the hell out of daddy. 

So you can have Cthulhu and Dagon.  What scares me is small and furry.