Tangled in Webs

We can all relate to the single truth that no one has a say in the circumstances into which they're born. No one's given the choice of the skin they wear or the name they inherit. Yet, ironically, we're all guilty of judging one another for those things. Might that be because we all secretly judge ourselves so harshly, and the only way to cope with our imperfections is to find them in others? Or can it be that we're all so envious, jealous, and covetous of one another, but are too afraid to admit these faults?

Who knows? Does it really matter?

It's a riddle we'll never be able to solve.

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I crept on light feet, trying not to make any noise, as I made my way through the darkened forest. There was a small break in the clouds, revealing the moon. It cast a soft silver glow over the trees and made the droplets on my landmarks glisten like little stars.

Pretty.

I loved silver. Though black was my color preference.

I was so entranced by the scenery that I didn't notice where I was stepping, and then the sudden sound of a twig snapping startled me into stillness. Shit. So much for stealth. I turned and peered under my hood into the darkness, checking to make sure I was alone. I wasn't the only creature that liked to hunt at night, and therefore I had to be cautious. I didn't want to end up in the belly of some carnivore or be caught consuming my own prey.

Normally, I'd be in the trees. It was far less risky. But tonight it was drizzling, and the branches were dripping with moisture, the moss slick. It was a slipping hazard. Though if I were to fall, I could save myself, however, if anyone were to witness it, that'd be the end of me.

Satisfied with my findings- or lack thereof- I turned back around and continued on my way, following the silver thread that'd lead me to my trap. I was close. I could sense the vibrations of my catch as it squirmed with each step that I took along the wire string. All my strings were rippling, producing an orchestra only I could hear.

I smiled to myself. I was in for a treat. The fight my prey was giving indicated it was going to be a big, juicy one. My stomach growled at me to hurry and get my hands on it.

Just a few more strides, I told it, though there was no reasoning with my hunger pains. They protested with a vengeance. It'd been almost a week since I last fed, and there was nothing I could do about it. I had to wait until my trap was triggered. But at least I was patient. I had to be. It wasn't like I was a vampire that people willingly wanted to please. Pretty bastards. They were over-romanticized-predators who didn't have to do a thing to get their food. Their sources were plentiful and oh so eager to provide.

Because of my fangs, I was often mistaken for one of those freeloaders- sometimes I wish I was one. But if someone got a closer look, they'd see the tips of my sharp canines curved inwards ever-so-slightly, my skin a sickly pale, my long hair as black as pitch, and my eyes as silver as the moon.

Unfortunately, I was no one's idea of an appealing monster. In fact, my species was considered an abomination and had been for decades. It was a shame, really. I had a lot of potential. I was clever, fast, and so agile that I could outrun a werewolf. I could climb trees quicker than a squirrel. My reflexes were so sharp that I could catch a bird mid-flight.

However, this all yielded no advantage. To showcase my talents would only call attention to what I was, and my kind was shunned by the rest of the world and hunted to extinction. The irony was that everyone believed we were extinct. There hadn't been a sighting of us in over a decade. That was another skill we had; the ability to blend in with our surroundings. It was why we shared similarities with other monsters- so we could hide ourselves in plain sight. It was a trait we had always possessed and one that we had honed to a point of perfection, which made it hard to eradicate us completely. But we were still a dying species, and to survive meant I had to be extra careful.

A shrill squeak stole my attention, and my mouth watered as I thought about sinking my fangs into my fresh meal. I was very tempted to seize it, but I resisted the urge and instead stalked the perimeter to ensure I was alone so I could enjoy my food in peace. I grimaced as I thought about the barbarity of it. If there was one thing I despised about having to conceal my true nature, it was being forced to consume my dirty kill on the forest floor like a rabid animal. I couldn't recall a time when I ever got to enjoy eating in the comfort of my home. Even as a child, my mother would stash my sisters and me in a cave or beneath bushes to wait 'til evening came, then deliver us our scraps to eat right then and there.

I cast the memory away with a low hiss, silently cursing the King of Beasts for turning all the other monsters against us. Calm, Aranei, subdue your temper, said the memory of my mother's soothing voice, and I inhaled an alleviating breath. My resentment receded, though not entirely, and I knew it was going to become a big problem if I didn't feed soon.

I took four more trips around my hunting grounds before I decided it was clear to go ahead. Not safe. I'd never use the word, as there was nothing safe about this world. Especially if someone were to ever discover how I obtained my sustenance.

I brought my skeletal hand in front of me, pushing the wet foliage out of my face as I slinked into the dense undergrowth. I tried to overlook the blue veins visible through my translucent skin, but it haunted me, reminding me how malnourished I was. The famine had a dramatic effect on my poor body, causing my features to become less desirable than they actually were. It was depressing. I was so thin, I might as well be a corpse.

I moved nearer to my snare, disregarding my bony wrist whenever it came into view. Another squeak resounded- a cry for help- like it knew the predator that'd captured it was close. After a few more steps, I reached the small clearing. My eyes locked on my game, and I was not disappointed.

Tangled in webs was a beefy giant jackrabbit the size of a full-grown fox. My fingers twitched to have it, and my stomach tightened in approval at the sight of our prize.

The jackrabbit stilled as it saw me, then began thrashing anew to free itself. Its attempts were futile. Nothing was stronger than spider silk, except perhaps our fangs.

Spider. The name echoed in my mind like a lonely warning. Even I had been conditioned to view my species as terrifying. After being subjected to a certain description for so long, eventually a person comes to accept it as reality.

The aroma of the hot, succulent meat permeated my nostrils, and my thoughts vanished, yielding to my primal desires. I was so ravenous with starvation that I instantly pounced on the creature, biting into its neck to muffle its cries and drink its life. The forest was overpopulated with jackrabbits, so I shouldn't feel bad about what I was about to do. Yet the slight pang of guilt stabbed my conscience anyway.

It squirmed beneath me, but only briefly, before going completely stiff as my venom traversed through its bloodstream. It wasn't dead. Not yet at least. Though soon, it would be.

My venom's paralytic toxins were why I couldn't pass for a vampire. It released whenever I fed. It was also the reason my people were perceived as more of a danger than fire-breathing dragons. How laughable. I didn't understand why. The effects wore off after an hour. Though I guess being left in such a compromising state for even that long was a vulnerability other monsters wouldn't dare to chance.

In this treacherous realm, a single mistake could lead to either one's demise or the relinquishing of authority, both of which were beyond the scope of what anyone was willing to risk.

My eyes fell shut as the heated liquid coated my tongue. Just like a vampire, fresh blood was the only substance I could ingest. Fur tickled my nose and filled my mouth, but my cardinal needs were unperturbed. My hunger was overriding all else and I was finally able to sate it.

As I drank, I let myself fantasize about what it'd be like to drink from a source as the vampires did. Pretending this wasn't a jackrabbit, but a sexy werewolf or a flirtatious Griffin, tasting skin instead of fur. Safely ensconced inside an intimate and private room, not out in the wilds of a muddy, frightful wood.

It was indeed, sad that this was my life. But I didn't let myself cry over it. Tears wouldn't do me any favors, and sympathy was only given to the young.

I had barely started to enjoy my food when I found myself swallowing empty air. Frustration flared, and I dug my claws into its limp body like I could squeeze more from it. It was an ill-fated attempt and rather pathetic. I had siphoned every last drop, and still, it wasn't enough. Then again, it never was.

With a resigned sigh, I released the jackrabbit to begin the clean-up segment of my night. Such tedious work, I thought, though the guilt returned, reminding me that digging a grave was the least I could do for my poor victim. Since my catch was big, I was going to need to make a decent-sized hole.

I glanced down at the mud and swore. I couldn't bury something in this weather. The dirt would wash away and reveal the carcass. Options. What were my options? In my rush to claim my catch, I forgot my dagger at home, so chopping it was out of the question. It was too wet for a fire, not that I'd light one anyway. It'd attract unwanted attention.

Think, Aranei. There must be something I could do to erase the evidence. Because leaving it out in the open wasn't an option. All it'd take was a monster with a keen sense of smell to sniff out the venom and then trace the scent of the jackrabbit back to me. When injected into the bloodstream, the venom imparts a cloyingly sweet stench to the skin tissue. Otherwise, it was completely odorless.

And this is why I can't eat at home, I scathingly spat to myself and slapped a nearby branch in my fit of rage.

Some spiders took the risk and burned the corpses in their furnaces immediately after. But Mom told my sisters and me to never take that chance. We should take care to ensure that our food was far away from where we resided if we cherished our lives.

Stop stalling and clear the crime scene, my inner voice of reason admonished.

I glowered as I climbed back to my feet, wiping off the mud that had caked onto my trousers. Taking a moment to inspect my surroundings, I carefully peeled off from my hunting sight. It'd been pouring the past couple of days, so maybe there was a stream somewhere I could- ah ha. There! A fairly large pond sat not too far from me.

A smile crept onto my face as a plan formed, and I scoured the ground for a sharp rock. Once I found one, I began collecting other rocks as well, then quickly hurried to where I'd placed my snare.

I brought the untangled ends of the spider silk up to my fangs to cut them. Then carefully made an incision in the jackrabbit's pelt and began stuffing it with rocks. I internally apologized to it, repeatedly, chanting the mantra I made for whenever I took a life. This wasn't a habit I learned from my mother. She never felt guilty about doing whatever it took to survive. I did. I didn't believe my breed made my life more important than anyone else's.

A knot formed in my throat as I labored, delicately pulling a filament of silk from my fingertips to mend the fur together. Finished, I heaved the jackrabbit up, careful not to jostle it too much. I peeked out of my hiding place again, and, deeming the coast clear, I glided as fast as water toward the edge of the pond and tossed the evidence of my consumption into the center of it. I backed away before it splashed and waited with bated breath in the shadows to see if the noise had alerted anyone and were coming to investigate.

The time seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly. Nevertheless, I stayed put. It was only after the insects returned to their nocturnal serenade did I finally release the breath that I'd been holding.

I turned back the way I came and clutched my stomach as it gave a low rumble, begging for more. My eyes fell closed as I thought about the next time I might feed. Likely not for another week, what with the luck I'd been having. I didn't know how much longer I could survive like this, but despite the odds against me, I still held out hope, even though my emotions were a vicious cycle of fear, loneliness, and hunger. Regrettably, it was all I'd ever known, and I knew that it'd never change, that this was just the way things were...

That thought stayed with me as I made my way back home. I was sopping wet, my body aching with fatigue, hunger, and the constant cold that had settled in my bones. It told me I was alive, but not truly living.

My head tilted back as I glanced at the clouds, letting the rain pepper my face with kisses, and welcomed the affection. I sought out the moon as it hid behind the thick layer of overcast, knowing it was there somewhere as lonely and unseen as I.

Please let there be more to life than this.

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Thank you for reading my little fiction short story! I hope you enjoyed it, and I also hope it gave you a refreshing perspective on nature's best pest control. A lot of people are afraid of spiders and hate them simply for being creepy-crawly. I get that they aren't the most pleasant creatures to look at. But they are an important part of our environment, and if it weren't for them, our world would be overrun with far more unpleasant insects. They do a great service in keeping the ecosystem in balance, and we should respect them for it. So the next time you come across one, please don't harm it. If they are outdoors, leave them be, and if you find one inside, just relocate it outside.

I don't expect anyone to agree with my fascination and admiration for these eight-legged marvels, but all I ask is that you at least give it a chance. Spiders still deserve to live, even if you find them disgusting.

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My character's name is the Latin word for spiders: Aranei (pronounced in my story as are-un-aye)