The Spider

I’m being hunted down by a killer.

He killed two of my old friends. I didn’t exactly keep in touch with them, but their deaths still hit me pretty hard, nonetheless. It’s normal to feel this kind of shock for someone you once spoke to.

My only friend, the only person I still feel somewhat obligated to speak to, called me on the phone two days ago.

She told me that she thinks we are both next. I listened and reassured her like any friend would, telling her that everything is going to be okay.

“How can you know that? What makes you think he won’t come after us?,” Marcia asked through her sobs.

“Well, isn’t this what, karma?,” I asked.

Marcia hung up on me after that. Probably for the best. She was a wreck. I knew I should be feeling this way, but I felt nothing.

We deserved it after all.

I felt something prickly hop on my shoulder, a small long black leg tapping me against the cheek. It was a familiar feeling, one that I knew all too well. The spider with the blue ass. I started seeing it once everything in my life began to spiral out of control.

All it took was four years. I lost my job. I showed up drunk for the third time and got fired. My girlfriend left with all her things in a pink suitcase.

I experienced a number of drunken stupors, lying in my own vomit on the expensive carpet my parents bought for my apartment three years ago, as a birthday present.

They never bothered to call or text me. They just send me gifts, expecting me to be happy.

When I eventually opened my eyes from the hangover I was experiencing, I was greeted by a pair of eight black eyes. After I first laid eyes on the spider with the blue butt, I immediately felt a sense of peace.

I didn’t feel angry or sad. I no longer pitied myself. I felt like I was entering another realm, where nothing mattered, and you were free. It couldn’t speak of course, but it could in my dreams.

In my first dream, the spider was there. It spoke to me in my grandma’s voice, the only person who I felt dearly loved me before she passed. The spider would be towering above me, like in the exaggerated horror films that feature spiders going around killing everyone in the movie in the most ridiculous ways.

The spider resembled a black widow, the only difference being that the ass of the spider was a dark shade of blue.

The spider never moved its mouth as it spoke to me in my grandmother’s voice, and I would sit in front of the spider, listening to its every word. It smelled like the chocolate chip cookies my grandmother used to make.

I always forgot what words it would tell me every time I woke up, but I knew it was good, because I would wake up with bliss wafting over me, like a Disney princess greeting her furry friends in the morning.

The spider didn’t have a name, so I called it Malo. It was my grandmother’s real name. The spider seemed to like the name, and it showed its approval by taking a sort of cartoonish bow in front of me as I was having lunch.

I laughed so hard that mashed potatoes spewed from my mouth. It was the perfect bonding moment between friends.

It was nice to still have someone be there for you. I didn’t have many left. I had Marcia, but she was unfortunately a reminder of my tragic past.

Marcia called me back five more times, but I purposely had my phone on silent. If only the spider would come to her, but she was one of the few who would never get to experience it. She grew up privileged. Nothing more needed to be said.

I eventually arrived to my usual hangout, a café. Once I entered the coffee shop, familiar coffee smells and several young adults were scattered throughout the café, some of them with their laptops or phones open in front of them.

I knew without looking that the majority of the screens would feature pictures of Nick and Travis, the ones they took back in high school for their yearbook photo.

Did they deserve to die? Yes. Did they deserve to die the way they did? No. May they rest in peace, wherever they were. I would be meeting them quite soon.

Cigarette smoke greeted me as I took my seat across from an old friend. Micah wore his typical clothing, a brown trench coat, his black long hair shielding baby blue eyes his father had gifted him.

Eight small eyes gazed at me with interest, standing on top of his right shoulder. I felt Malo pick up one of its hairy legs to say hello.

“How are you doing? I heard about the news. Two of your friends are dead, huh? That’s rough,” Micah said in a deadpan voice.

All I could really do was shrug my shoulders, Malo joining me with my indifference to how I felt about the situation.

“Well, yeah. I didn’t really bond with Travis and Nick like I did with Marcia, but…you know. They were the ones driving.”

Micah stubbed out his cigarette on the ashtray. His spider crawled alongside his arm, all the way toward his hand with the cigarette. A waitress walked past our table, holding a tray to her side.

Her irritated gaze washed over us and the spiders with no emotion, continuing her descent into a place she didn’t want to work. She didn’t see the spiders.

No one else could, unless you were trying to move forward with your life like Micah, or came to terms with your death like me. I wondered if Malo was secretly an angel in disguise, but I never bothered to ask.

I know I asked Malo many questions in my dreams, but there was no point when you couldn’t remember the answers. Micah clutched his fingers into a fist, his gaze lingering on the ashtray.

His spider began to hop on his hand, dragging its hairy legs across his fist. Micah pulled his hand away from the ashtray, and the spider crawled up his arm back to his right shoulder.

“Are you doing okay, Micah? You look out of it.”

Micah crossed his arms, leaning back in the booth.

“I’m alright, I guess. Still struggling with…my old man passing. He wasn’t the best. I shouldn’t be missing him, but I do. It’s hard. Didn’t think it would be this difficult.”

Micah covered his face with the hand that held the cigarette. He stayed like that for a while, the spider’s eyes looking up at his face like a child wondering why their mother was crying.

The spider placed one of its hairy legs on his cheek, offering comfort. Micah slid his hand down his face, his eyes filled with tears.

“I should probably stop smoking too. Don’t want to put myself six feet under like my old man.”

I chuckled. “Yeah. That would be a shame.”

Micah shook his head, a smile lingering on his lips.

“Don’t want you seeing me up there either. I can imagine your disappointment now. You would first lecture me on why I began smoking in the first place…”

“And then I would call you an idiot. And you would feel it.”

Micah and I both burst out laughing. Micah slammed his hand on the table, barely missing the ashtray. I could feel Malo brushing away my tears with his legs, as Micah’s spider looked up at him with amusement.

Then my tears became real, for a bit. Micah grew silent as he waited for my tears to succumb. I didn’t realize Malo had crawled to my hand, wrapping its legs around my hand. It was the only few comforts Malo could provide me in the real world.

After I was done, Micah offered me a napkin from the dispenser on the table. I took it and dabbed at my eyes.

“Is this the last time we’re going to do this?,” Micah asked.

“Yes. I think so.”

“Bummer.”

Micah and I stayed in our seats without saying a word, and we remained there until the café was about to close. We shared many memories together in this coffee shop. We didn’t hang out anywhere else, just here.

We had our spiders to thank for us meeting. We walked out together, and before I could say my goodbyes, Micah hugged me with all the strength he possessed, holding me so tightly I thought my heart would explode.

I hugged him back, not caring if random passersby noticed our embrace. Malo and his spider were watching each other, and I wondered if they were also feeling the sadness of not seeing each other again. I knew they would reunite in whatever realm they lived in, but I knew they felt our pain nonetheless.

We then parted ways with only a wave, Micah offering me a wan smile before leaving with his spider.

I watched him go, until he became surrounded by the shoppers swarming the plaza, delving into an unknown destination, something I would never learn about anymore.

My phone buzzed again, but I didn’t answer. I decided to wait until I got home, pondering my thoughts on the train, as Malo remained on my shoulder. Malo brushed one of her legs across my cheek, and I opened my eyes to find a child sitting across from me.

A young boy with a beanie on his head was looking directly at me. A spider with a blue butt was sitting on his lap. The boy’s eyes conveyed sadness, along with irritation.

Who I believed to be his mother was sitting next to him, angrily talking on the phone with someone, judging from my past with my parents, I wouldn’t doubt it was his father.

“You’ll be ok,” I mouthed to him.

I picked up Malo, and she lifted a leg to say hello. The boy smiled, and I think it was enough. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I didn’t pick it up.

Once the train came to a stop, the boy left with his mother. She continued to argue with the mystery person I suspected to be the father, as she dragged the boy by the hand.

The spider was now perched on top of his head, both his spider and the boy saying goodbye with their eyes. I said bye with my own. We were each suffering in our own ways, but we somehow knew how to comfort one another.

At the second stop, I got off the train. I kept walking and walking, among the crowds of people. One individual bumped against my shoulder. I didn’t bother shouting or stopping him.

There was no point, since I was going to be dead soon.

My phone went off again. I waited until I reached my home. I entered my apartment. I didn’t lock the door. I walked into my bedroom, leaving the door ajar. I called Marcia back. She was crying.

“Why did you take so long to pick up the phone?? I — I — called you so many times, I thought he got you too! I found a letter taped to my front door — -it said I’m going to pay for what I did — I can’t go to the cops about this. I don’t know what to do, I’m so scared –”

“Marcia, it’s okay. Things are going to be okay. Don’t be scared.”

I pulled the hand away from my ear as Marcia shrieked in my ear. It was something she always did whenever she got frustrated. I rolled my eyes, and I knew if Malo was capable of speaking in the real world, she would be laughing at her dramatic outbursts.

Marcia got like this too, when we ran over the stranger on the road. I remember it all like it was yesterday.

Nick and Travis were both arguing. Marcia was screaming. I stood next to her, staring down at the body. He wasn’t moving. We didn’t call the cops. We left and never looked back. We continued our lives like nothing happened.

Now look. We were now dying four years later. I let myself fall on the bed, my gaze landing on the closet. The door was closed. I didn’t remember opening or shutting the door to my closet.

I laughed softly.

“What?? Are you laughing at me?? You asshole! I — I come to you for help, because you’re my friend, and this is what you do? You laugh at me??”

“If you don’t want to die, call the police and confess to what we did. Or just accept your fate. You’ll be at peace.”

Before Marcia could reply, I hung up the phone. It continued to ring, but I didn’t bother. Malo crawled across my chest, toward my face.

“Am I going to die?,” I whispered.

Malo looked at me, and suddenly blinked, water leaking from her eight eyes. She bobbed her body up and down. I knew that was a yes. I caressed her body, as you would with a small puppy.

She walked on my pillow, stopping right beside my head. Malo placed one of her legs on my cheek. I suddenly began to feel dizzy. My eyes were beginning to close. The closet door opened.

A tall figure emerged from the closet. I think it was a man. A glint of silver was in his hand. I placed a kiss on Malo’s blue butt. It was all I could do, as a goodbye. I fell into a deep darkness, to a dream I would never wake from.

I didn’t expect it to be so peaceful.

Thank you for reading!

Emy Quinn