The Spider Man

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Descending the staircase after my shift finished, right there on the wall was a spider the size of my hand. It was crawling upwards; its big, black legs going this way and that. Closing my eyes, I prayed for it to be an hallucination brought on by the nightmares I’ve been having; that somehow the line between reality and dream had broken down at last. Horrified and excited in the same breath, I opened them again to find it still there. The only way out was to go past, but I just froze. Strangely enough, I got an erection, and yet it felt as though my balls had shrivelled to the size of grapes. In the space of a few seconds, every encounter I’d ever had with the fuckers flashed through my mind leaving me a wreck. Taking several steps back and wishing for someone to come save me, no one came. And so I resorted to what worked best as a child; the ‘closing my eyes, running blindly while humming’ technique. Charging forwards and throwing myself to the right at the bottom step where the spider lurked, I swore repeatedly before scurrying outside. Sucking in fresh air while thrashing around to make sure it hadn’t jumped on me, I leant back against a brick wall while observing those coming and going from the park across the road. Jesus, a grown man, reduced to such a feeble mess over something so small. But hey, I’m a writer- I’m reduced by stuff that isn’t even real, so it’s not exactly a surprise. Still, while lighting a cigarette and blowing out a lungful of smoke, I couldn’t help but shake my head and laugh. Maybe the spider represents a fear of women after all, or perhaps it shows how childlike I am- a Victim of the ‘Peter Pan’ syndrome if you will. Walking head down, a light rain flattened my hair as those around me went about their business. Lost in thought, visions of her appeared through the images of those spiders I’d killed. She seems so pretty; so sincere. I barely know her, and yet she intrigues me in ways that can’t be fathomed. She dances like an angel; like a feather in the wind. Telling myself not to be so stupid, the more I do, the more her image shines.

4 replies »

  1. Thought this post was just going to be a bland continuation of the vagina-spider post, and then I got to Peter Pan. That’s a lot of effed-up psychology, but that’s what makes it beautiful, ain’t it – put your heart out. That one line really pulled a lot of recent material together. That was awesome.

    • I’m glad you think so, thank you. I for one find I’m trapped between wanting to be a child and a man. I want the thrills of adulthood; the women, sex, booze, but the carefree bliss of being a kid with no attachments. Being caught in between the two makes for ‘interesting’ times.

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