This post is part of NaBloPoMo, Feb. 2014. Today’s prompt: Write about an event that happened today. Now write about it from the perspective of someone else in the room.I’m stuck in the house in the snow, so…
For four days, we’ve known the other exists, but we haven’t connected. Every time I go into that room, I see my new friend, but we haven’t been formally introduced.
I think I sense fear. I get the feeling it’s preferred that I pretend my new friend doesn’t exist. But I can’t.
He’s black. He’s tiny. He kind of stands out.
All eight legs must be tucked under — he looks like a ball, but it’s a noticeable ball on the white wall of the inside of my linen closet.
Do spiders really think we can’t see them if they just stand still? Dude, you so don’t blend.
“Hello, Spider,” I say every time I go into that closet and he freezes, jolts a little, tightens more into his ball. “I won’t hurt you. You just do your thing and I’ll do mine, and we’ll be fine.”
I close the door and, every time, I hope he (she?) will decide it’s time to move on. For four days now. I have towels to put away, but don’t want to — Spider doesn’t need a more comfy location in which to roost and I don’t need the surprise of my life after a relaxing shower.
“Hey, Spider,” I say, opening the door today. “Aren’t there other warm cozy places you could be?”
A few hours later, I realize Spider’s not budging. I decide to encourage a little movement. It’s not the quilted stuff, but it’s soft enough — I nudge Spider slightly with a tiny toilet paper arrow I’ve created.
“Time to move on.”
The spot where Spider was — just white wall now. Did I see where Spider went? Of course not. The long-limbed black ball I couldn’t help but notice is now invisible, like he got some kind of arachnid version of Harry Potter’s cloak or a Romulan device that will enable him to hide, even right next to me.
Looks like I’ll be shaking out my towels right before I use them for a few days, just in case, and double-checking the toilet paper rolls before I put them on the holder.
If only he just moved… and left a forwarding address.
~ ~ ~
Ah, nothing better than relaxing after a tough day of spinning and fly-eating. I’ll just stretch my legs and… What’s that bright light? Holy cow, that’s the biggest spider I’ve ever seen! I better hide.
(pulls all eight legs tighter under his body)
There. Now I’ll be safe… boy, that thing is big. I hope it goes away soon. You can’t see me. You can’t see me. la la la.
Wait… what is that noise?
(“Hey, Spider…” which Spider hears as mamawawa)
It doesn’t speak Spider! What the hell is that?
(Spider closes his eyes tight)
Go to my happy place, go to my happy place. Be gone, large creature!
(The door closes. Spider relaxes. This repeats several times… until the large creature pushes Spider with an object that seems somewhat familiar to him, but he can’t place).
What the… ahhhhhhhh! I’m falling! … Wait!
(Spider spins a little silk to the wall to stop the fall).
Phew! That was close. … Maybe I should find another place to hang out.
(Spider starts to leave, but sees the large creature peeking in his warm abode as if looking for him).
Nah, I think I’ll stay.
(Spider hides in a closet crevice where he can see large creature, but it can’t see him. He puts two sets of his eight legs up to the sides of his head and wiggles them).
Nah nah nah nah, nah, nah. If I had a tongue, I’d stick it out.