"Spider Nest," A Short Story By Gwenyth Darling

"Spider Nest," A Short Story By Gwenyth Darling.

Spider Nest richly blends humour, nostalgia and an escalating nightmarish encounter together with mild suspense. The story cleverly lulls the reader with playful banter and staunch imagery before plunging into a disturbing climax.

SPIDER NEST 

“I'll just be a minute, Jen. Don't leave me or I'll choke you out,” I threatened through a laugh as I shut the door to the outhouse. The music muffled and I began to check my makeup in the mirror on the back of the plastic door. Humming along to the Janis Joplin that was playing loudly, I began to scan the yellow piss- and bleach-smelling bathroom for bugs. Aside from a small ant in the corner, it was clear. I gave a huff of relief.

I have been in many port-a-potties that were covered in bugs. I do the same technique every time. I hover above the seat and pee as quickly as I can, all the while keeping my eyes glued to the giant furry eight-legged creature clinging to the ceiling directly above me. All the while, hoping against his little bug-will that he/she would not fall directly onto my eye. The thought was enough to make the bile in my stomach enter and burn the back of my throat.

The crocheted yarn of my top was rough under my sweaty fingers as I adjusted the way it sat on my body. I made sure my breasts were snug and secure. A free show was not something I wanted to give out today—especially not at the Peace Fest, where most of the audience was made up of seventy-year-old men who wanted to relive the glory days of the late 60s. Where drugs were easily found—and vaccines? Not so much.

As I pulled down my orange corduroy bell-bottoms and sat lightly on the seat, I felt a pull at the door.

“Occupido!” I shouted. I allowed my muscles to loosen and audibly moaned at the sweet release. Suddenly, I felt a little tickle on my ankle and stomped my foot. I quickly swatted the area before looking, but there was nothing there. I guess I was just scaring myself.

“Hurry up, Mickie! The line for the snow cones is getting long!” I heard Jen’s familiar voice shout from outside the door.

“I'm almost done, OH!” I yelled back, feeling a light tickling on the underside of my right thigh. I quickly shifted, hoping the feeling would stop. And it did. I was too terrified to look and see what else it could be. Finally, the last few drops left my body.

Immediately, and to my horror, I realized the feeling of movement had started again. Quickly lifting myself from the seat, I stuck my head between my legs and saw a medium-sized wolf spider clinging to my skin. I let out a bloodcurdling scream as I went to swat it off. But before I could catch it, the spider quickly scuttled closer to my pubic area. I continued to scream and tried to smack it. But before I could do anything, I felt it crawling in between my lips and going inside of me. I screamed and tried to find it but with no luck. I could not feel it on my skin, instead, I swore I felt it crawling on the inside of my walls. I kicked the door of the stall and heard Jen screaming for me.

“What's wrong?! Mickie! Open up!” Her voice was shrill, like the spikes of forks grating against each other. I couldn't speak. I screamed again as the thought of the eight legs wrapping themselves around my eggs flooded my brain folds. I saw my vision going dark. It felt like my lungs were being constricted by a python. Then I was gone.

Writer

Gwenyth Darling is a short story writer and local travel and food blogger out of Mt.Pleasant, Michigan. Her stories mainly focus on themes of empowerment and politics. When she is not writing she enjoys playing guitar, hiking and camping with her partner and two dogs.