The Spider

It was a rainy October night, and I was on the way home from art school.

The torrential rain pooled and ran by in rivers on the winding road. It was too dark to see clearly how much water saturated the street, except in flashes by the headlights of a rare passing car. My mom was driving, and though my siblings and I were all together in the back seat, the van was silent. We were all too tired to talk.

The faint crackle of the radio behind the music blended with the staccato raindrops into an eerie sort of melody. I began listening closely to the many sounds around me as I leaned closer to the window. The sky was dark but still overcast with clouds.

The drive from art class was usually a picturesque one, but it was long and dark at night. It was a little-used, winding forest road with street lights infrequent and set far apart. We had just reached a long dark stretch of the road when it happened.

I sensed a presence in the car next to me. It seemed to be hovering near the window. I leaned away silent, trying to discern shapes in the darkness. We finally reached another streetlight.

In the glare of the light, I saw illuminated the outline of a huge spider.

I screamed so loudly that my siblings woke up and my mom almost swerved off the road. When the chaos subsided, I tried to find the spider, looking in every nook and cranny. It was nowhere to be found. 🛖