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    northie
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Incy Wincy Spider - 1. The Story

This a response to Prompt 575.

CONTENT WARNING: Spiders, lots and lots of spiders.

Prompt 575

You woke up and were running late to work. As you run out the door, you hit the button on your key fob to unlock your car door and stop cold. Your car is covered in spider webs. Turning to run back into your house you see it is also covered in hundreds of webs and there are spiders everywhere you look. What happened?

“Do you mind!”

Dave Harrison stopped dead in his tracks, almost leaving rubber scorch marks on the floor. He was late for work, again. He listened hard, turning his head from side to side, trying to locate the source of the voice.

Where the fuck had that come from? Suppose he'd better investigate? He couldn't really afford the delay but then … there was only him living in the semi. His most recent boyfriend had upped and gone a couple of months back, and he'd yet to find a replacement. So who the fuck was talking?

OK, he'd been out on his own the previous night, drinking vodka shots – marmalade, and toffee fudge flavoured vodka shots – in the local, non-gay nightclub. Not a clever thing to do on a weekday night, maybe, but he always knew when to stop. Or, he thought he did. Maybe somebody had spiked one of them? What else could explain the fact that he was standing in his own porch, listening out for an imaginary voice?

After a night on the tiles, he always made sure he drank plenty of water before he fell into bed. And he'd just had a reasonably sensible breakfast, eaten at ninety miles an hour admittedly. So, nothing different from any other mid-week boozing session …

Dave decided he couldn't delay any longer – he daredn't risk being late for the second time that week, auditory hallucinations or not. There was a restructure looming and he was buggered if he was going to give those tossers in management any reason to single him out.

His hand reached out to open the outside door and then he realised, he'd been about to clear the spider's web from the door handle when he'd heard the voice. He had nothing against spiders as a rule. In fact, he was really quite soft – he never deliberately killed any, preferring instead to evict them into the garden. He looked at the cobweb more closely. It was almost as if it'd been done there on purpose. Stupid place to do it. His hand was poised to swipe away the web …

“Did you not hear me the first time? I'm not something you can just brush aside.” A sharpish, female voice with the faintest Scottish brogue …

Dave's tongue seemed to act on its own. “What the fuck? Am I really still that shitfaced?” He processed what he'd just 'heard'. A woman's voice? When had the last female crossed over his threshold – he couldn't think. Bloody ages ago, most like.

“Mind your language, young man.” Same female voice.

This admonition was followed by a deep male voice, coming from behind him.

“If you know what's good for you, you'll listen carefully.”

Dave spun round, his eyes scanning every nook and cranny of the porch for a spy camera, some sign of a hidden audio feed. Zulf and that wanker Pete must've set up something, though god only knew when they'd managed to sneak in and do it. Knowing them, there'd be a live video feed on the web somewhere, showing him at his early morning best. Office humour at its finest in action. Well, fuck them!

“You think I'm gonna play along, do you? No fuckin' way! I'll sort the pair of you out later.”

He gave the unseen camera the finger and then spun back round to the door. He slammed it back on its hinges as a way of venting his anger before he ran towards the car. Only, he didn't run anywhere. He couldn't.

Stretched across the whole of the doorway was one ginormous, concentric spider's web with its owner / occupier sitting right in the middle. Dave felt his grip on reality had suddenly slackened … In fact, hadn't he just competely let go of it? What the fuck was happening? His wildly swivelling eyes suddenly latched onto the sight of the spider's legs for some reason. Maybe it was the colouring? He wouldn't mind having those tawny orange and black stripes on a pair of football socks … His free-falling thoughts were interrupted by another female voice – quite stern and authoritarian.

“And where do you think you're going?”

He could actually see the spider talking to him this time. He didn't like to think how large it was. So, were the other voices also talking spiders? This was a nightmare. He was still high on whatever they'd spiked his drink with. Dave pinched his arm hard, several times, but it didn't make any difference.

“Err … out. I've gotta get to work. … Please?”

Perhaps it was a weapons-grade hallucinogen some fucking terrorist had released? He was trying to catch a glimpse of next-door through the gaps in the web when he heard the voice behind him again.

“We're in charge now. Spiders, that is. You'd better get used to it, very quickly.”

He turned round slowly and saw what he'd missed the first time – a large, brown, hairy house spider, poised at his feet.

“I can make it close-up and personal, if you'd like? Oh, and if you're wondering, you're being treated very well. The light touch, seeing as you're one of the favoured …”

Dave couldn't stop himself from shivering slightly. He'd never really touched a spider and he didn't want to start now. The house spider continued.

“Though you came pretty close to screwing up with your antics just. … You all right, love?”

Dave looked around until he saw a smaller spider with a pale grey abdomen surface round the edge of the door.

“No thanks to him. I ache bloody everywhere.”

Dave felt compelled to apologise – not something he normally dreamt of doing.

“Err … sorry about that. Didn't mean to … err … ehm … I was in a hurry.”

The grey spider scowled at him. “So you should be. Do you have any idea how long it'll take me to redo that web?”

Dave took the question as being one of those which didn't need an answer. He returned to what the house spider had said – he was being treated leniently? He swallowed nervously and turned back to face the outer door. Peering through the gaps in the web once again, he tried to see what was happening next-door. This time, he saw something which made his blood run cold. A couple of men were dragging a large, wrapped package out of the front door towards a refrigerated van. A large, body-shaped package and the wrapping looked suspiciously like spider silk.

A half-stifled gasp nearly turned into a terrified gibber when he saw the burly hulk of the numerous supervising house spiders. Several mean-looking, zebra striped spiders were standing guard, ready to jump on any signs of trouble. He'd seen that species before and remembered seeing them move as fast as fuck. As the men struggled to get a proper hold on the package, he thought he saw the cocooned contents twitch. And again. His stomach threatened to regurgitate his breakfast then and there, but he managed just about to hang onto it, although a small amount of bile found its way into his nasal cavities.

Fuck! Was that Mrs White? The old biddy always screamed the place down whenever the smallest spider made an appearance. He'd heard her often enough – the walls weren't exactly thick. She usually insisted that Geoff Whateverisnamewas, from over the road, came and despatched them. He didn't want to dwell on what might be happening to him … His stomach lurched again.

“Getting the general idea, are you?” The house spider again. Dave nodded meekly, without turning round.

“Mind, you're on probation after that door stunt you just pulled.” This from the spider dangling right in front of him.

Dave gulped nervously. He was sweating quite badly – he could feel it, cold and clammy, trickling down the side of his face. God, was he ever going to wake up? Snap out of it? His tongue took over again.

“Err … I'd still like to get to work, please? If that's OK with you?” Pleading with fucking spiders?

The sickening image of the twitching bundle still seemed burned on his retinas. He certainly didn't want to get on their wrong side. Not if that was the possible result. He thought he'd better get things clear.

“And … and, if I should kill or injure a spider? By accident, of course – I've never killed any of you in cold blood …” Dave almost cringed as he asked the question. Then he felt a sharp nip above his right ankle. “Owh!”

He looked down at the floor. A gesticulating, zebra striped spider glared back.

“And, yes, I can jump a lot higher than that. Wasn't really trying that time. So, that's just a taste, a smidgen, of what'll happen to you if an accident occurs. Personally speaking, I'd love to suck you dry – young, juicy, delicious food.”

Dave felt the blood leaving his head. He very nearly keeled over but managed to grab hold of the coat hooks to keep himself upright. One of his flailing feet disturbed the web of a spider hidden in the skirting board. It came out to investigate – large, black and angry. It waved the remnants of the web at Dave, then ran up the outside of his trouser leg and onto his shirt. Dave looked down and saw the metallic green of its fangs glinting in the early morning sunshine. They were pointing at the base of his neck.

Shit, shit, shit! Could it get any fucking worse? The vision of Mrs White came back to remind him that it could get ever so much worse. He tried to control his breathing – a panic attack was the last thing he wanted. Slowly … in, out, in, out. … He managed to find his voice again although it started with an embarassing squeak.

“Ah … Err … Sorry, I lost my balance. It was an accident, entirely unintentional …”

The cold sweats started up again. If he ever got to work – if work still existed – he'd be stinking. Why the fuck did he keep on thinking about work? It was the least of his effing worries. Those fangs meant business and their owner didn't look as if it was going anywhere. The house spider broke some of the tension by making a comment.

“Well, that's another penalty point added to your total. At this rate, it won't be long before you're in a nice, comfy, all-enveloping hammock, having a nice, refreshing sleep. Refreshing for us, that is. Hmm … wonder what you'd taste like?”

Dave, who still had his back to the house spider, wondered if he could hear it licking its lips. Did spiders even have lips? He turned his eyes back to the specimen clinging onto his shirt. The green fangs were slowly retreating as the spider reluctantly made its way back down to the floor. He was surrounded, yet even his scattered wits told him that the stand-off couldn't go on indefinitely. He took his courage in both hands.

“What's going to happen now? … I …”

“Well, that is a good question, isn't it?” The house spider again.

Dave turned round to face it – him? – as the large, brown spider seemed to be the one in charge. The one he needed to please, to impress the most. The zebra striped, jumping spider was bloody aggressive but not the most dangerous. If anything, it followed orders rather than giving them – the snapshot from next-door seemed to confirm that. Having said that, he could do without provoking it again – the area around his ankle was numb. He tried to imagine the whole of him feeling that way and wished he hadn't …

He must concentrate and think clearly. Negotiating wasn't anything he'd ever had to do before. Yet, here he was – bargaining for his life with a fucking spider. His last hopes that this was some sort of aberration, were fading fast. Even if it was something short-lived with only temporary consequences, he didn't want end up like Mrs W. Was the poison reversible? Even if it was, it didn't sound as though there'd be much time in between it happening and him being … what, harvested? His cold sweats seemed unending. He swallowed and tried an ingratiating smile.

“Of course, I'd like to be useful. In fact, I can assure you that you'd find me really useful.” He tried to sound confident, offering himself as a valuable, thinking, live commodity.

“Hmm … we're all ears.” Faint Scottish accent again.

Dave suddenly felt like sniggering – the chuckles threatened to well out of him spontaneously. He couldn't help it. Pictures of spiders with cartoon ears paraded through his head, but they were swiftly overwritten by images of murderous spiders with monstrous fangs. The hysterical urge quickly faded away. He coughed instead, cleared his throat and tried to focus.

“Well, I'm young, healthy …” He thought of earlier. “I can drive.” Then he found the words pouring out of him. “Trustworthy, adaptable, enterprising, teamworker, numerate – these are some of my many qualities and attributes. I can both follow instructions and work to my own plans …”

Strange how good a liar he was becoming under pressure. He'd coasted the past few years – happy enough in his secure, undemanding job, becoming sluggish and time-serving.

“I'm good at looking at things differently …” Imagination? He barely had any thoughts beyond his own immediate needs. Maybe that was why his boyfriends never hung around that long? He wasn't one for self-analysis … He couldn't think of anything else to say. I don't want to die wouldn't cut it. Pity, because it was the most burning reason he had to survive.

Dave stood there, in his own porch, awaiting an answer. From a spider, of all fucking things. The house spider suddenly ran up the wall and settled on one of the coat hooks. It looked at him with a world-weary expression.

“OK … Do you have any idea how often we've heard exactly the same rubbish being spouted? We don't give a toss about any of it, except the driving. We think, we decide, we run everything as we think it should be run. All without any input whatsoever from you lot.”

Dave clung onto the 'driving', it was his only hope.

“Right. We'll let you outside. You will go straight to your car, wait for the spiders who've been guarding it to get inside and then you'll follow their instructions. Understood?”

Dave nodded like his life depended on it. He turned around to face the outer door just as the spider in the centre of the web there was lowering the guy ropes. The web gradually sank until it was possible for him to step over it. He did so very, very carefully and then hurried off to his car.

When he got to it, he stopped and stared – his beloved, totally impractical sports car was covered in cobwebs. As he peered to look at them, he realised they were the same grey specimens as the one he'd unwittingly tried to flatten earlier. He hoped they hadn't heard …

“So, you're the thug, are you?”

Ah … not a good start. “It was an unfortunate accident. I … err … I didn't …”

The spider who seemed to be in charge, interrupted. “Yeah, yeah. Get in the car. We haven't got all day. There's plenty more people to be picked up.”

Could he hear sniggering? It seemed to ripple round the car. He gulped again and his knees suddenly felt a little weak. He automatically put a hand out to steady himself on the car and then withdrew it in a flash before it'd made contact. Fuck, that was close! The spiders' sniggering doubled in volume. Bastards!

As the webs were taken down, the driver's door became clear. Dave carefully opened it and clambered in. His instinct was to start it up and flee, but, as he looked in the rear-view mirror, he realised there were already enough spiders inside to deal with him, should the need arise. He sat there, tense and anxious, waiting for all the spiders to get a move on. What was taking them so fucking long? His right knee twitched nervously, causing his leg to flex. He watched it happening as if from a distance – his body seemed to be reacting exactly as it wanted to, without any reference to his brain.

Come on! Surely they were all inside by now? He turned the ignition key, hearing the roar of the engine as he revved it. The deep, throaty sound was something that always got his heart racing, only not now. Why was he so keen to get started? It was only going to be taking him from one nightmare to another. … No, he wasn't going to give up, he wasn't. Though why, who the fuck knew …

Finally. Dave did a quick look around the outside of the car, or the bits he could see, at least. All clear. Right, he wanted to be off, in control of something, even if it was for the last time. Without waiting for the instructions, he put the car into reverse, backed out of his drive and then set off towards the main road at speed. He ignored the growing clamour from the spiders behind him. Suddenly, he noticed a spider on the opposite wing mirror, clinging on for dear life. Fuck! Fuck, fuck … He tried to brake slowly, carefully, but his right leg had another spasm. The tyres screeched as his foot slammed on the brakes, and he watched the spider's grey body flying through the air as the car lurched to a complete stop.

Dave sat slumped at the wheel, speechless. Defeated. Why hadn't he waited? Followed instructions?… More fresh meat awaiting collection and delivery. What would he taste like? Something fucking awful, hopefully …

Dramatis aranei (in order of appearance)

Garden cross spider (Araneus diadematus)

House spider (Tegenaria spp.)

Missing-sector orb weaver (Zygiella spp.)

Common zebra spider (Salticus scenicus)

Bronzed tube web spider (Segestria florentina)

With thanks to Timothy M for beta-reading at short notice.

Please leave a comment - good, bad, or indifferent.
Copyright © 2017 northie; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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As much as I don't care for spiders, this was cleverly written. Thank you. Jeff

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6 hours ago, JeffreyL said:

As much as I don't care for spiders, this was cleverly written. Thank you. Jeff

Thank you for persevering! :)

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I didn't expect a story like this here, but I like it. I don't have any objection to a few spiders sharing my house unless they're venomous ones, so we tolerate each other, -that's not saying they'd keep me around if they had any say in the matter.

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5 hours ago, Stephen said:

I didn't expect a story like this here, but I like it. I don't have any objection to a few spiders sharing my house unless they're venomous ones, so we tolerate each other, -that's not saying they'd keep me around if they had any say in the matter.

Yes, horror isn't one of the more usual categories on GA. I'm like you - I don't mind having spiders around. I'm glad you enjoyed the story.

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I'm not scared of spiders at all, but I've to admit the story freaked me out a bit. :o 

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10 minutes ago, Timothy M. said:

I'm not scared of spiders at all, but I've to admit the story freaked me out a bit. :o 

Good! :D  A horror story doesn't work if the reader isn't at least a bit freaked ... 

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This was both fun and uncomfortable. Since I never kill spiders, I feel pretty safe from their wrath. This perhaps alowed me to read without feeling too haunted. I hope they didn't eat him, even if he was a clumsy one. 

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13 hours ago, Puppilull said:

This was both fun and uncomfortable. Since I never kill spiders, I feel pretty safe from their wrath. This perhaps alowed me to read without feeling too haunted. I hope they didn't eat him, even if he was a clumsy one. 

 

Good! A horror story doesn't want to be comfortable ... ;)  Does Dave get eaten? Well, he certainly thinks that's his fate. Thanks for reading. :) 

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I couldn’t read this all at once. That’s very unusual for me. If I have nightmares tonight, it’s all your fault!  ;–)

 

I don’t like cobwebs and I’m not particularly fond of spiders, but I’d rather have them around than the insects they eat!  ;–)

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10 hours ago, droughtquake said:

. If I have nightmares tonight, it’s all your fault!  ;–)

Hmm ... Just how large do I have to make the warnings?  :funny:  Thanks for persevering, drought.  :yes:

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From what I remember, spiders inject venom that liquifies the innards of the victims, then they suck it out.  Protein shake! LOL

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On 6/5/2022 at 7:02 AM, AlexLittel said:

From what I remember, spiders inject venom that liquifies the innards of the victims, then they suck it out.  Protein shake! LOL

👀😱😄 Sorry I missed this. Thanks for the information... maybe. 😬

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this is the second most horrifying spider story I have ever read. Well written, but horrifying. RIP Dave, luckless slave of the spiders :/

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1 hour ago, LemonSoda said:

this is the second most horrifying spider story I have ever read.

Thank you for the compliment.  🤨😄

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16 minutes ago, northie said:

Thank you for the compliment.  🤨😄

was my comment too ambiguous. I shall revise: 

1. I love Dave because my favorite character archetype is the tragic hero who brings about his own downfall despite attempts to evade fate. Delicious. 

2. It is only the second most horrifying because the first most horrifying involved spider/human BDSM. If we split them into "spider stories that made me want to bleach my brain" and "spider stories that were horrifying in a way that was satisfying as a reader" yours is the first most horrifying and I enjoyed yours much more. 

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10 minutes ago, LemonSoda said:

the first most horrifying involved spider/human BDSM.

👀😱 I enjoy most sympathetically portrayed BDSM but just sounds weird. Not in a good way either.

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