Spider Log: 9.2025.6

I shiver. The sensation trickling down my body into the tips of my legs. I scurry across the ground before the chill freezes me into place, my legs fold up and I flop over like Aunt Delores.

Now she was something to behold. Her tan legs tipped with a little black and that pattern on her back. But it was her size that got humans. She was a big-un. Made women shriek and wail as if watching that horse sink into the mud of despair in the “Never Ending Story” movie.

Whir. Click. I sigh as the heat wave from the furnace drifts across my body, wrapping me in a warm blanket. I shift, roll and land on all eight legs.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I shake the last bit of chill from my body.

Why did Harry Houdini think this place would a be a good place to raise our babies? Never trust a male spider; he didn’t even ask directions when we were looking for a new home. He escaped from this place before I could exact my retribution.

Bastard.

He promised me a luxury palace, not this cheap no-tell motel. Cheap bastard.

But like Aunt Delores, what doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger. I built a beautiful egg sac, poured every last bit of soul into an exquisite tear-dropped egg sac. The moisture glistened on my silk threads like dew on the meadow. When the children emerged, they swarmed like a million minions, only much smarter than those bright lemony yellow, bug-eyed idiots.

True minions. Such small, scurrying brown minions, racing up the stone steps into freedom. The brown wave spreading, their tiny squeals so delightful as they descended upon the ant hills.

Oh my minions. How a mother misses them. I raised them well, but now it was my time to feed, to scare, but mainly to feed.

Buzz. Flutter. Swish. Swish.

My fangs wiggle and my tiny hairs straighten like stick pins.

Food.

Scurry. Scurry. Scurry.

There. A black ant. A big one. Big. Trying to hide in the shadows. Can’t hide from a thousand eyes.

Scurry. Scurry. Scurry. Pounce. Roll. Inject. Inject. Inject.

The ant went limp against my body. I shiver and roll back, one leg clutching the ant to my body.

White light sliced the darkness and something groaned. I scurry back to watch, to wait, to hunt. Footsteps weighted down by cowboy boots thudded down the metal steps. A human. It smells like canned tuna and regret.

My vision sharpens. A woman! How pleasing.

The light illuminates her horrifying brightness. A zig-zag-patterned explosion of color burns my thousand eyes. Mrs. Roper called; she wants her outfit back.

My vengeance against Harry Houdini will be sated if I can simply terrify this woman. I will make Aunt Delores proud.

I raise my legs one at time, blood surging through my limbs. I rise, dangling my fangs.

“The itsy bitsy spider, crawled up the water spout…” Her voice vibrates against my body and the hairs on my legs prickled.

What the absolute…did she call me? Itsy? BITSY? Oh I’ll show..

“Down came the rain, and washed the spider out,” Mrs. Roper sang.

My legs twitches. My butt wiggles. What was happening? I drop my precious lunch, my stomach lurches at the loss.

“Out came the sun…”

My legs vibrate on their own, moving with her excruciating song. Am I dancing?

She nears the bottom of the stairs and turns to her left then her right. “Dried out all the rain and the…” The words stopped in her throat.

My body is mine again.

Fear me Roper.

I crouch down. Weigh my options. I could jump straight up, might land on her, bite. Her eyes widen; she sees me. Does not scream. Oh I will make her scream.

Prey. Prey. Prey. I chant to drown out her song.

Mrs. Roper creeps closer, taking tiny steps. Shuffles. Sings. “Itsy bitsy spider crawled…”

Nothing is itsy bitsy about me Roper. I shake my front legs at her.

Prey. Prey. Prey.

Scurry. Scurry.

She leans down. Yes. Closer. Come closer Mrs. Roper. This is for Aunt Delores. This is for Harry Houdini for bringing here. This is for you for making my butt wiggle.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

Blood surges into my legs. Jum…

Clunk.

I bounce back. My legs reach out. Touch something hard, clear. My legs extend, batting against glass.

I’m trapped.

This prison smells like rotten tomatoes. Earthy. Sharp. Pungent.

Something sticks to my legs.

My world tumbles. I land on my back, my legs dancing, trying to find something solid. I thrash and scream like a mute crow in a Tupperware container.

Something tightens. The air is gone. I cannot breathe. My body bonces, and everything goes black.

***

I awaken to darkness, and my body rolls and then tumbles. I gather my legs beneath me and crouch. There’s a road in front of me, grasses swaying in the wind, soft rain falling outside. Mrs. Roper’s tomato colored face blocks my vision. Water drips from her wiry curls.

“Do your job,” she snaps, and then she pushes the lid shut.

Another prison. This one is cool, dry, but the ground is uneven. I delicately stair step my way down to a cool, metal floor in the corner. I will wait, gather my strength.

***

Light streams in the cracks of the prison, but this prison is still cool. Not damp, despite the patter of rain on the roof from the night before.

I hear gravel crunching outside, and something shuts hard.

Mrs. Roper has returned. Good.

I wait in the corner of the prison, hidden by the pile of envelopes and packages. I like the cool metal beneath my legs, and those envelopes smell funny, like tuna.

The door creaks open, and a hand grasps the mail.

I pounce and land on smooth skin.

The thing screams, shakes, and I go flying back into the prison. My back hits the metal hard, and I land on the floor. Scurry. Scurry.

An object flies past me and shatters. Glass shards fall like razors, and I scurry away, bouncing onto the side of the box, flattening myself.

Flutter. Buzz. Flicker. Flicker.

Bugs with glowing yellow butts buzzed around the box.

Mrs. Roper brought me dinner. Lots of delicious dinner.

I leap from my perch, tackling the bug in mid-air and rolled onto the ground. I sink my fangs into the body.

This tastes funny. Like…

Bright light explodes, then everything goes black.