Arachnid

Arachnid

Artwork by Tara Cumella

I bet you’re wondering how I got here. Well it all started when I pissed off a wizard. Don’t do that kids; that’s how you wind up cursed as a spider and locked into your own pocket universe at the bottom of the ocean.

Yeah, it wasn’t my best idea. I was human once. A man, a handsome one. Beauty and vanity go hand in hand, and few hundred years ago my ego got a little out of control. I made a few bad decisions and slept with the wrong man’s wife. Wizards aren’t exactly known for being forgiving individuals, or lenient, but I really thought I could get away with it. And I did, up until she gave birth and the kid came out looking a hell of a lot like me and nothing like him.

God, I hope the kid’s okay. Well, grandkid by now.

Anyway, so the wizard found out his wife had been fooling around, with me no less. I don’t what he did to her, or if he did anything to her at all, but he turned me into a spider and shoved me into the ocean and I just… Sank. Yeah, okay, that isn’t entirely true, I fought like hell, but this body was new to me and I hadn’t actually believed in magic so I was caught completely off guard.

I eventually hit the ocean floor. I don’t know why he didn’t just crush me and let me die, but this is where I am. Where I’ve been for hundreds of years. Wherever I go this pocket of dry land follows. I can’t break it, though I’ve tried. There aren’t any other living things in my bubble, just me. I can’t communicate with the fish at all, and they don’t seem to like me very much. The best reaction I get is for them to ignore me completely.

I’m very bored. There’s nothing to do. Literally, it’s just me, walking in the same bubble, for hundreds of years. I can’t leave, I can’t escape, I can’t even die. When I was a kid, I would often use hyperbole. “Oh mom!” I’d say, “I’m dying of boredom!” Yeah, well, now spider me knows how ridiculous that was. I would give anything to die of boredom now.

I remember hearing once that wizards live a very long time, like multiple lifetimes. I’ve also heard that a wizard’s magic only lasts as long as he’s alive and now I’m scared.

You see, dying of boredom is one thing. I’d like that, that would be okay with me. I’d even be grateful if one day the wizard would just kick it and let my bubble pop. I’d be crushed by the weight of the ocean, sure, but at least then it would be an instant death. Really anything as long as this torture ends would be fine by me.

No, the problem is that my little bubble kept getting just a little smaller every day. I didn’t mind at first because I figured that was because the wizard was dying. He starts to go, and his spells start to end, you know, that kind of thing. So my bubble got smaller and smaller and smaller until my legs were frozen in place. It was terrifying, but I welcomed it.

But then something weird happened. I fell asleep and overnight my bubble grew! Overnight it had grown up to twice it’s original size. I don’t know how, but I get the sense that somehow the bastard just cheat death. It’s like he just doubled his already insanely long life span, and his magic down here doubled with it.

I bet he doesn’t even remember that I’m down here.

I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t know how much longer I can keep it together. Really, I really don’t want to spend another couple of centuries down here and – oh God. If he did it once he could probably do it again.

Am I going to be stuck here? For eternity? Please, somebody help me.

With nothing else to do I continue meandering the ocean floor, hoping some day some creature will burst this bubble, or that the wizard that trapped me here dies.

What to do with an Uninvited Guest - Flash Fiction

What to do with an Uninvited Guest by Christina Chapman

Artwork by Tara Cumella

“This idiot’s going to get himself killed,” she thought to herself. “But they don’t want to hear it from me.” Talia rolled her eyes and let a soft pink flower float up into her mouth. These intruders had no understanding of the gravity and foliage of this place, no understanding of her or life here. Sure, flying around in zero G was fun, even Talia occasionally indulged, but crashing to the ground from that height would be objectively painful.

Oh well. She had shit to get done. Fuck them, she hadn’t invited them to her domain. Talia

turned her back to the intruders – their mess of equipment disgusted her. Talia took each step with

caution, sensing the changing air. She planted roots with her feet, sowing her own flowers with each

step.

The idiot had bounced his way up a cliff and leapt off of it so he could soar in the air. Gravity

returned and he fell hard. He would have been better off if he’d gone up the mountain, because at least then he would have died instantly.

Talia felt the impact of his fall through the roots she had planted there last week. His spine gave way with a satisfying snap which would have paralyzed him, but was survivable. At least, it would have been survivable if he hadn’t landed on a piece of equipment that punctured his suit and drew blood.

          The unpicked flowers budded with anticipation, the blood calling to them. They grew, young at

first, springing up along the roots Talia had laid down. It would be too late by the time the intruders

noticed them. It was always this way – first the flowers were ignored, then remarked upon as pretty,

then interesting, and then the screaming would begin and wouldn’t end until all of the intruders had

died.

Talia made her way home and rolled a stone over the entryway to help muffle the sound. She

only had a few seconds before the screaming started in earnest and she needed to bake bread for

tonight’s dinner.

She plucked two soft mushrooms from her arm and stuffed them into her ears to help mask the noise. The second intruder was screaming now and Talia was more than a little annoyed by his

disruption of her quiet home. Talia went about her business, crushing flowers and mixing them together before pouring them into her bread pan.

She sensed the coming change and laid out toots so she wouldn’t float away, anchoring herself

to the ground. The screaming stopped and her old roots returned to her, almost slithering their way

across her home until they settled, birthing bright red flowers on her kitchen floor.

“My warnings might be more effective if I let them see or hear me,” she thought to herself. “Oh well. I didn’t invite them anyway.”