4.09 - Eight Legged Freak
The itsy bitsy spider went up the waterspout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out. Up came the sun and dried the all the rain, and the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again. The nursery rhyme comes to mind as I watch a spider slowly lower a web and hang from the ceiling corner of my room. I’ve been watching to for a while now, just wondering what it’ll do, but it’s just watching me. I wonder if bugs have thoughts, what would a spider think about? Does it have a favorite kind of bug to eat? I wonder if spiders have a little language we can’t understand. Even with my vampire hearing, I can never hear it make any sounds.
There should be more movies about spiders, happy movies about spiders. I reach for the composition notebook by my bed to scribble some ideas. I turn to the last page and see that it’s been filled. I’ve got another notebook around here somewhere.
“Hey, don’t move,” I point to the spider.
I check the drawers in my desk, these are all full. Already got so many ideas. I need to start writing more scripts, or put together money to film them. I’m not sure how I’d get the money and crew, but it can’t be that hard. I might be able to find something on the internet. Under a Do the Right Thing shirt covered in dried blood, I find an empty notebook. I guess I didn’t do the right thing last time I wore this. I should try to wash the blood out of this later. I liked that shirt, but blood is a good reason not to wear them.
“I’m back, thanks for staying put,” I give the spider a thumbs up.
Alright, ideas for spider movies. We can do a spider as an invisible friend. Giant spider, but it gets bigger the more love it’s given. Spiders stop an alien invasion because the aliens are afraid of them. The story of Santa, but Santa is actually just a group of spiders. That’s why nobody can see him, he just turns into spiders running away. Spider-Man but he’s got a spider’s head and shoots webs from his butt. No, that’s silly. Maybe spiders are too boring to make good movies no matter how horrifying they seem. I can only think of three good ones. Arachnophobia, 8 Legged Freaks and The Mist, but technically they were aliens in that one.
“Is an alien based on a spider still a spider,” the spider doesn’t spell an answer in the web.
I watch as it scurries to another corner, not worried about whatever I’m doing. I wonder if spiders think. I wonder they would think about. I think they’d have thoughts about the way the world treats them. They’re seen as these big scary monsters who kill people with a single bite when most are completely harmless. The world isn’t really fair and even insects, arachnids, like them feel that. Do spiders stay in contact with their kids or siblings? Is it just every spider for themselves after they hatch from the eggs? I know turtles go to the beach and bury their eggs then run off before anything can eat them, but I don’t know much about spiders. Maybe I should film a nature documentary about spiders.
“The gentle spider is often not understood. It has a reputation as a killer. It only kills to eat, and eats what it kills. Spiders have no need for me and you. They don’t even care about dogs and cats. They’re much more, focused, on other bugs to devour. It checks it’s small and raggedy web, nothing has landed on it but dust. The Spider scurries along to another of it’s trapping locations, only to be sad once again.”
Maybe I should take the spider outside, it hasn’t caught any food and these webs seem kind of old. I grab and empty can of chewing tobacco that has been on my dresser for too long. I got bored and wanted to see why people loved the stuff. It was disgusting but I finished the can because I paid for it. I had been using it as a reminder of my stupid choice; now it’ll make a great spider transport can. It doesn’t take much to get the spider in, maybe it likes the smell of chewing tobacco. The smell was nice, but that was all, so I could understand. It just fell into my trap so easily.
Spiders remind me of myself sometimes. Just trying to survive in a world that isn’t really meant for them. They’re monsters, by no choice of their own. They simply try to survive, and the world sees them as monsters for every terrible horror movie ever. If the world could see me, they would treat me the same way. They would lock me up like some cannibal serial killer again. They wouldn’t understand that I was just trying to survive. The way people just murder for fun is no different than a kid with a magnifying glass burning ants. They’re killing to get some kind of thrill, but it’s just part of how I eat. I don’t really have a choice if I want to keep living. Sometimes I’m not sure why I’m living, or even if I want to. I tried not drinking blood for almost a year, and every time I found myself giving in when I could have just let myself die. The difference is life doesn’t torture a spider. I wonder what it would do if I pulled off one of it’s legs, maybe I heat up the can and see what it does. Then, it would be more like me. But it doesn’t need to be like me. I’ll just let it go outside, this is way too big to have been an inside spider and it has more than a pale and dull color.
I spot Wesley in the kitchen as I come up from my room in the basement. “What’s up,” I ask him when he spots me.
He doesn’t answer me, he just freezes. I can hear his heart speed up, it seems like blood is rushing more towards his face. He hates me, or he’s afraid of me. I can’t tell. He doesn’t open his mouth to give me an answer, just rushes off up the stairs. I think it’s fear. He’s not carrying around garlic and holy water, but he’s avoiding me. He does everything he can to not look me in the eyes.
“Alright, you’re free now,” I pop open the lid and sit it on the ground. I watch as the spider gains an understanding of it’s surrounding but doesn’t leave. “Hey, the world is scary out there, and there’s a lot of bad people, but don’t be scared. You have to keep hope, and eventually you’ll find some friends of your own. Just be yourself, but not too much. If people know the real you, they might be afraid. We’re just not understood. Nobody ever wished me luck, but I’m wishing you good luck.”
The spider dances around the tin for a moment as if it understood my words. It slowly makes its way out into the grass before scurrying into a bush.
