The Smiling Spider Journal

And then there was light! I think...Though the light went off and on at regular intervals. There was a definite pattern.

I can't say I remember much about my first moments of life. My birth was different from the average birth. I just remember coming to be. Stretching my legs from my egg and grinning at the delights the outside world had to offer and spending time with the most curious of...what you call "gentlemen".

I spent a lot of time with him; he seemed very curious about my ten long legs and the wicked grin I sported. Apparently, I was unique. He often referred to himself in the most peculiar way. "Creator" is the term he would use, as if I was of his design. To this day, I am not sure if the man was telling the truth or needed psychiatric help. He never let me escape the dark halls he kept me in.

He would often introduce me to beings of a similar design to my own but with just eight thin and hairy legs. I wondered if he was trying to celebrate my uniqueness or make me feel like an abomination.

Although more alive when he was asleep. I saw him work with charcoal, creating my image. It was a faithful recreation; I won't deny it. Nothing beats the original, but he represented me well. No complaints from this smiling spider.

I wonder why he felt people might be "unnerved" by my smile. I imagine my mother would have said something like, "You have such a wonderful and friendly smile, dear". Though, I am not even sure if I ever had a mother. The more time I spent rattling around in this old Frenchman, the more I needed to figure out what was real and what was not.

Still, he had me pose, showing my smile in all its glory. The look of disgust on his face and the sound of repulsion in his voice became the praise I craved from him.

When I saw his etchings and lithograph, I wondered, as much as I could, what people would first notice about me. My beautiful furry, round body, the deepest darkest blackness I exuded, the extra two legs or the grin on my face.

In time, I'm sure people will remember me for my sparkling conversation and lively personality. The fact that I use a napkin when eating flies or that I am a huge fan of Jacques Offenbach. Though I doubt it.

They will probably see me as that sinister-looking spider with a smile and ten legs. Nothing more, nothing less. Not to be trusted. Not to be messed with.

At least dearest Odilon allowed me a place of residence in his mind. That was until he died in 1916, full of dread and anxiety over his son, who served in what the recesses of his mind called "The Great War".

It's unfortunate for me, but my life was intrinsically linked to dear old Redon's. When he expired, so did I. I hope I am remembered fondly...

Looks can be deceiving, like a spider with an unsettling grin

Smiles too can be deceiving, as they can hide evil and sin

Like the man with the puppies, sweets, and unsettling grin

He beckons you over, as he strokes his beard-covered chin

Promises he's kind and cares, flashing that unsettling grin

Your trust is what he wants, but his handshake hides a pin

Remember, looks can be deceiving, like a spider with an unsettling grin

Spider With An Unsettling Grin by Paul Stewart

That damn smile and those damn legs.