1
Carl smiled at the creature slowly crawling across his arm,
each movement of its eight legs more delicate than the last. It was hardly the
prettiest of arachnids, as far as spiders went. Its color a motley mix of grey
and black, it looked almost like a piece of mold given a will of its own. Its
bulbous abdomen bobbed up and down slightly as it moved and the tiny legs
around its mouth twitched about it an eerie manner, almost too smoothly. Its
eight eyes glistened, each one a tiny orb of obsidian. It was ugly, small, and
carnivorous. It wasn’t hard to see why such animals repulsed so many people.
Carl was not one of those people. The spindly legs tickled
his skin, and he let out a little laugh at the sensation. The tiny creature
paused at his elbow and rotated ponderously, never exerting more effort then
was required. That was part of why Carl loved spiders so much, as well as most
predators, in fact. They never wasted energy or took an action that wasn’t
carefully decided upon beforehand. The spider eventually decided to go back the
way it came, deeming that going any further would not lead to food or shelter.
Respecting its wishes, Carl leaned down and lowered his hand to where he had
found it earlier, a little crevasse in the wall lined with a thick layer of
web. The spider stepped off his arm and descended into its lair without so much
as an acknowledgment.
“And so I bid you adieu,
my lady Arachne,” Carl said with a smile on his face. Turning away from the
spider’s lair, he walked down the street to his date.
2
Carl put on his best shit-eating grin as he slammed yet
another empty shot on the table. Around him, people stared in wide-eyed
amazement, murmuring amongst themselves about his greatness no doubt. Eight
empty shots sat before him, each one a grand monument to his prowess at shoving
alcohol down his throat. Across the table from him sat his worthy opponent, who
glared at him behind his paltry seven shots.
“Well, well, well, well… well,” slurred Carl, “Wus it gonna
be, ol’ buddy ol’ pal? You gonna beat me like a man, or are you a… a pussy?” He whispered the last word out
in an almost reverential tone, the effect somewhat undercut by the saliva that
sloshed out with every attempt at speech. Thankfully, his rival was similarly
inebriated and therefore fully felt the intended insult to his honor.
“Give it heeyuh!” Max commanded, swinging his open hand over
to the less-than-amused waitress. She carefully gave him another shot, which
brimmed with golden liquid that shimmered like the nectar of the gods that it
was. Without a second thought, Max gulped it down immediately and violently
thrust the now-empty glass down on the table. “Betchu can’t do anymore… bitch!”
Max said, his alcohol-stained voice filled with bravado.
Carl gulped dramatically, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His
inebriated mind calculated whether or not he could take another shot, before
wandering off to thoughts of Taco Bell. They did have that new Doritos Locos Tacos deal… ‘No!’ his mind
screamed. ‘Focus! You’ve already beaten the Anansi challenge, but you’ll be
damned if you let Max beat you now!’
“Damn straight!” Carl shouted, much to the confusion of the
bar-goers. “Wait… I mean, yeah I can!” The waitress sighed, clearly finding
their witty repartee to be somewhat lacking, but handed Carl another shot
regardless. Carl did his best to make of a show of taking the shot, which
amounted to him almost barely missing his mouth and shoving the shot in his eye
with an attempted flourish. It was perhaps by sheer luck alone that all of the
alcohol managed to get into his mouth at all.
Swelling with pride, he stood up and raised both fists in
the air, bellowing in triumph. And then he fell, already unconscious by the
time he hit the hardwood floor.
3
Minerva walked through the parking garage, her footsteps
echoing off of the empty concrete halls. Over her head was an empty black sky,
the stars obscured by the smog of the city. She felt a slight chill as an
autumnal breeze wisped around her body, and she wrapped her jacket around her
even tighter. Brushing away her auburn locks from her eyes, she silently cursed
herself for taking the late shift again
after she’d already told Rory twice already-
A high-pitched scream, which was almost positively girly and
steadily getting louder, interrupted her internal rant, followed by the dull
thud of an impact behind her. Her heart racing, Minerva spun around and gasped.
Where there had once been flat concrete was now a human-sized crater roughly
two inches into the floor, with cracks spreading dangerously along the
perimeter of the crater. A man lay face down on the ground, groaning and
muttering something into the ground. With a rough push he flipped himself over
onto his back, revealing a face that was only slightly bruised. He blinked his
blue eyes heavily and tilted his head back, seeing a flabbergasted and
slack-jawed Minerva for the first time.
“Um,” he started, “I can explain.” He paused for a moment,
and then continued. “But only over coffee.”
4
Carl scratched the back of his head nervously. “So, uh,
yeah. That’s it.”
“So, you’re Spider-Man.” Anne said matter-of-factly, as she
cut into her pancakes.
“Not… quite,” Carl said, fidgeting with his hands on the
table, ignoring his own plate of pancakes. “It doesn’t… feel like that. That’s really
the best way to describe it. I don’t have the same powers. Like, I’m not gonna
go web-slinging or whatever.”
“Mhm,” Anne thoughtfully said with a mouthful of pancakes.
“I can jump pretty far, like several football fields far.
And my body is conveniently tough enough to handle the landing.” Carl
continued, “And I can camouflage myself if I sit in one place for long enough,
not exactly invisible but-“
“Okay, enough,” Anne interrupted, “It was a little funny at
first, but now this is just getting stupid. I love you, big bro, but there’s…
no… way…”
Staring back at her were eight black orbs, each gleaming
with reflected light. The two largest were where Carl’s eyes had been, and the
rest, slightly smaller, lined his eyebrows and cheeks. Seeing what were
undoubtedly eyes that belonged to a
spider on a human’s face triggered some primal fear deep within her mind,
causing her breathing to get ragged and her palms to sweat.
“Oh god…” she whispered. “Carl…”
He looked down, shame plain on his face. His many eyes
slowly disappeared, sinking into his skin, until only the original two
remained, which shifted in color back to his normal brown.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, “I knew you wouldn’t believe me
unless I did something. There’s one more thing, though. I feel
5
Hungry. Body quivers
in anticipation. Web is strong. Prey is weak. Darkness is strength. Light is
weakness.
The web is the world,
stretching beyond and into the emptiness from which prey enters. Strange smells
and strange sounds emanate from the emptiness. They are unimportant. Prey is
important.
Web shudders. Prey
cries out, bleating for help. There is no help. Only hunger.
6
Carl smiled down at the tiny leaping spider that had elected
to land on his bench. The arachnid was no bigger than the nail of his pinky
finger, and it stared up at him with cartoonishly large black eyes. In Carl’s
mind, he imagined it speaking to him in a meek child’s soft voice.
hope you don’t mind
the company
“Not at all, friend,” Carl said aloud. There was no nearby
in the park that night, so he figured he might as well have some fun to pass
the time. “My date appears to be late, so having you around might help my
crippling separation anxiety.” He laughed a little at his own joke.
happy to help out
So the man and the spider sat there, together, on the bench
for quite some time. The sound of birds was replaced by the sound of crickets
and the sky began to darken, enveloping the world in twilight. Little yellow
lights started to wink in and out of existence in between the trees as the
fireflies began their nightly dance. Far off in the distance, the cacophony of
the city could still be heard, a disjointed symphony of cars, machines, and
people all vying for attention and space.
After what felt like ages, Carl sighed and said, “Looks like
she’s a no-show. Oh well. I appreciated the company though, little friend. I
wouldn’t mind doing this again sometime.”
anytime friend
With a push of its legs, the spider leapt into the bushes,
instantly vanishing in the darkness. Carl blinked in confusion and scratched
the back of his head. After deciding it was best not to think too much about
it, he shrugged, stood up, and made his way out of the park.
7
Ten years ago, Carl and Anne were fishing by the side of a
lake when Carl spotted something peculiar. He leaned down to the edge of the
water, staring at a bubble that sat just below the surface, quivering at his
breath. Within the bubble was a spider, its eight legs pushing against the
sides of the bubble. Carl began to wonder just what a spider was doing
underwater when something pushed heavily against his back, sending him crashing
into the water. He squealed and thrashed in the mucky water, curiosity quickly
forgotten. At the lake’s edge, Anne was laughing, up until big, rough hands
scooped her up and tossed her into the lake as well. Her screams were met with
a deep throaty chuckle from their father.
Five years ago, Carl and Max were exploring Max’s old attic.
A thick layer of dust covered rows of boxes, with spider webs interlaced
between the gaps, like bridges over canyons. Carl waded through the webs that
crumbled and folded before him, heading to a dark corner of the attic. After
spying what he was looking for, he knelt down and grabbed it, careful not to
disturb the webbing that was at least two inches thick around it. He showed Max
what he’d found, and his friend grinned.
Two years ago, Carl and Minerva were at a pizza joint for
dinner. Despite the restaurant’s unnaturally high spider infestation, the food
was actually very good. Carl was failing to eat said food, however, as he kept
trying to rip off the dangling bits of cheese on a slice of pizza but, much to
his chagrin, more and more cheese continued to drip down. He lamented to
Minerva that life was a constant struggle, to which she solemnly agreed, at
which point they both laughed.
One hour ago, Carl was watching a British man drone on about
the mating habits of spiders. He fell asleep ten minutes in.
8
Carl jumped out of the airplane, noticeably without a
parachute. Max rolled his eyes and followed him out, leaping into the empty air
thousands of feet above the ground. Wind whipped and lashed at his body, but
Max ignored the feeling of his descent. Not far below him was Carl, howling
like a maniac and cackling with glee.
When it came time, Max activated his parachute. Carl, on the
other hand, spun in the air rapidly, twirling so fast that he was almost a
blur. Thick transparent strings shot out from his twisting body, wrapping
around themselves until they formed a wide rectangle. The makeshift parachute
caught in the air, slowing Carl’s fall down considerably. Max just stared at
him in disbelief.
“That breaks at least ten laws of nature,” he muttered.
9
Prey bites. Hurts.
Rage breaks the cold hunger. Many prey now, circling around and yelling a word,
somehow important.
10
Carl checks his watch again and frowns. The rain is starting
to get heavier. He decides to go home earlier than usual. He worries about a
friend of his.
11
The baby giggled as he dangled from the ceiling by a thin
strand of webbing that came out of his little pink butt. He squealed with
delight as he swung about, using his six pudgy arms to swing faster. Carl and
Minerva looked at the baby, then at each other, then at the baby again.
“So yeah,” Carl profoundly stated.
12
So much blood. So much
dead prey. Hear their death cries, smell their fear and despair, see their rich
blood flowing on the earth. But cannot feed. Prey still fighting. Hurts. Legs
failing, tiring. Body bleeding. Everything hurts.
No longer hungry. Only
afraid.
13
Taylor waved her magic wand at Carl, shouting “Princess
Spider powers go!” Carl yelped and clutched his heart, dramatically falling to
the ground. Taylor giggled and jumped on top of him, bouncing off of his chest.
“Yay, I beat Daddy!” she cheered.
A little grey blur then tackled her, sending them both
crashing to the ground. Carl looked up to see Taylor rapidly changing, two sets
of arms bursting out of the sides of her frilly pink dress and six eyes opening
over her face as she faced her challenger.
He was a mirror image of her, save for two tiny fangs
jutting out of his mouth and the pirate outfit he wore, which had an eye patch
covering at least four of his beady little eyes.
“Yaargh!” yelled Jack, “I’ve come to steal the Princess’
treasure!”
An epic clash ensued.
14
It… It couldn’t have been real. But there it was, ripping
good men to shreds left and right. God… there was so much blood. Oh God…
No, no, I’m fine, I just need a minute. Okay. I’m good.
Yeah.
It was big, at least the size of an SUV. The bottom part of
it was like a spider, huge and hairy and spiky. It had six legs, each easily as
thick as my body. They moved so damn quickly, I could barely see them. I guess
that helped; the damn monster was moving too quickly for me to get a good luck
at most of it. But I did see the upper part, all too well. Two spindly arms,
ending in huge claws that looked like scythes, like the goddamn Grim Reaper or
something.
But the worst part was its face. Its mouth was a disgusting
mess of human teeth and enormous fangs. Blood and gore slipped through its jaws
like a fucking waterfall… Christ… Oh God, I see its eyes now. All eight of them.
Some were black, too black, and others were red, a foul red that looked too
much like… I heard once that spiders were supposed to be cold, calculating
predators, but this… It was just so… enraged.
It roared in my face, blood and spit falling all over my face, that god awful
smell of rot… I screamed his name. It was all I could do. I think it hesitated,
for a second, then someone shot it in the back, and it screeched and bounded
after the poor bastard who shot it.
It couldn’t have been real. It couldn’t have been him. Jesus. I played baseball with him!
I drank with him! What the hell happened to him?! Wait… who are those guys? And
why do you have that needle?
15
Cold. Hungry. Empty
walls, bound by prey’s web. Prey watches. Prey pokes and bites. Hurts. Prey
says a word. Word has meaning. Unsure of meaning. So cold. So hungry. Word is
Carl knelt down to the crevasse in the wall, peering into
the soaked crack. Around him the storm raged, a torrential downpour battering
at his umbrella. He frowned when he saw the drenched webbing, what was left of
it, barely clinging to the cement. Carl almost gave up until he noticed a tiny
grey leg peaking out of the crack. Smiling, he grabbed a damp twig and stuck
into the hole. Miraculously, the leg latched on, and he pulled the twig out,
revealing a familiar mottled creature desperately clinging to the twig for dear
life.
“Hey there, Arachne,” Carl said in a tone usually reserved
for little children, “Looks like you need to dry off. Let’s go someplace
warmer.”
A short time later, Carl sat near the fireplace, sipping on
a hot cup of hot cocoa. The spider, still attached to the twig, sat close to
the fire. It stared at the dancing flames with its many black eyes. After a
while, it tentatively stepped off of the twig and marched to the edge of the
fireplace, finding a dark corner that was still close to the warmth. It began
to weave its web, creating a tapestry that was perfectly half in the shadows
and half in the flickering light. Satisfied, it placed itself at the center of
the web and waited.
