death by white

i am a murderer.

i am now ill at the cold-bloodedness of it. the premeditated, curious, pain-inducing grime of it. my hands are blackened with toxic white chemicals. i feel like a dosteovsky character, my once-gray heart now sooted and buried beneath the weight of my tresspass.

it all started when i closed the garage door of my newly instituted ceramics studio, already known to be filled with literally hundreds of jet-black, sleek-looking meaty warrior spiders, inhabiting the corners of every division in the raw framed underground wall. spiders that had me edgy, but not yet frightened. spiders that sleeked away with the crack of light when i opened the door... spiders that were interested in sucking the guts out of rolly-poley bugs but never looked like they would notice me. spiders that had me researching ultrasonic wave producers on the internet, but not actually buying them.



but as i pulled the heavy divided garage door towards me on tuesday afternoon, i saw it - riding down towards me on top of the door:

the largest spider i have ever seen in this country.

i stopped cold.

my heart started to pound into my ears.

the legs looked to be about 6 inches long, thick, muscular, dark and hairy. it was so close to my face i could smell the strength of it. RAAAAAAWRRRRRR. it stppped, lifted each leg so purposefully and turned to face me. it's face looked like pure EVIL and its fangs i could feel reaching towards my heart to SUCK IT OUT.

my throat dry, i swallowed my thyroid gland and my lungs. the top of my head bristled and tingled. i knew this was it. my life was over tonight. this beast would leap onto my face, stick one of its long, hairy, sticky legs down into my nose and suck all of my guts out in one long, drawn-out, painful breath. i closed my eyes to see heaven. jesus? i wondered? is that you in the light?

am i dead yet? i opened my eyes expecting to see judgement day and my transgressions neatly layed out before me in an excel spreadsheet, explaining to me that perhaps i had done some good works but sorry, heaven was full and i would be speanding eternity with most of my friends in the land down under.

i choked and opened my eyes. mary? joseph? moses? is that you??

out of the corner of my eye i then saw IT escaping... scurrying around the edge of the door before i could even blink. One last hairy leg reaching, reeeaching around the corner of the door and slithering in somewhere. where was it? was it inside my shirt? in my pants? in my bra? in my hair, AGGGHHGHG! creepy crawly tingles and cringles everywhere AGHHHHGH!

my heart still poundign but now actually supplying blood to my brain, my stomach rumbled in acid nervousness. had i crushed it in the doorframe?

----Wednesday, August 22nd.-----

i lay awake tonight, thinking about the sticky legs crawlnig around me and encircling my flesh. my sheets are tangled around my ankles, i look at the clock and hope that it is morning. luckily i fall into a long-involved dream involving the king and queen of seattle, their palace, a royal wedding, baby-grand pianos and yanni.

----Thursday, August 23rd. 1:30pm. Summer Qtr test: Done. Summer qtr: Over.

today is beautifully sunny, the breeze home from the bustop blowing a gentle 76 degrees, a perfectly wonderful seattle august day. school is over for the summer, and i feel good about my test. 95% maybe? hopeful. i am blissfully free now before i start clinical on monday.

i return home, my body weary with lack of sleep, but hungry and curious about the state of my ceramics. i should really venture out to my studio and get ready to work.

i set some water to boil in a pot in my kitchen, then head out back to open the dreaded door.

carefully watching it rise, i look immediately to the right-hand wall, to find my familiar black beauties happily muching on their catches of the day: a plump bumble bee for one lucky spider, and a measly roley-poley for another less-lucky spider. I wonder which has more fiber. And I wonder if perhaps the juicy bee is actually quite a project to devour as the fuzzy hairy skin may need to be removed. Perhaps the roley-poley is a much more instant lunch. the "TV dinners" of spider world.

Then THUD my body feels rocked back with a thunderous force.

I see IT. The spider that looks like he could fit ten of the other black spiders on his back with room to spare. His resting legspan looks to cover the entire area of another's web.

He does not have a web.

He does not need a web.

He does not know the meaning of a web.

He is a hunter, a predator, a killer, a stalker.

A loner.

It is him. I have not killed him on Tuesday, he is now here waiting for me in the plain of day. The other spiders, like clockwork, sink invisibly into the wall when the sliver of light exposes them, but not HE. HE remains, in the broad daylight, ready for death. He looks ready to jump straight to my chest and puncture my aorta, drinking my blood and muching through my heart in a matter of seconds. I can hear him chomping through the artery walls, chomp chomp chomp, slurp slurp slurp of my blood.

My chest wall tightens. The shaking, sweating of my palms leads me back into my house and up the stairs to the closet, to grab that curious blue tall can of "Insect Killer Spray" that is somehow in my closet despite the fact that i am vegetarian and not usually afraid of bugs. It is so blue, so tall and so -

The murderer often doesn't remember where his weapon came from or how it got in his hands.

My pot on the stove is now smoking and out of water. I throw it in the sink as smoke is now swirling around my kitchen as the pot has run out of water to boil. Was I really outside that long? Time had stood still when I saw HIM and somehow 15 minutes had passed as if it were only seconds. Steam erupted from the sink as I threw the smoking pot into some standing water. My vision blurry, I run back down the stairs and out to the back garage-

Blood.

Pumping.

Heart.

Brain.

Lungs.

Stopped.

I reach the edge of the garage, weilding the blue can as a filthy human murderer. I gloat that I have so much power in my hand, my finger dances excitedly on the trigger. Covering my face with a cloth I hunt for it. THERE. I feel a ripple of fast excitement zing through my veins. THERE.

THere HE is. Sitting, waiting for the battle. THERE HE IS!! Thinking he is now blending into the cement wall!! Thinking he is so craftily caumaflaged!! But I rejoice, touting the acuracy of my eyesight! It is only a matter of seconds, you bloodthirsty beast, before I kill you with this painful spray, before I deliver a powerful shot of white sticky poison, before you cower before me, me a big strong smart human!

I read the can, while keeping one watchful eye on him. "DANGER. CAUTION. BEWARE. DO NOT BREATHE. "

How the hell did I get this stuff in the first place??


Then, the guilt already surging around my brain like a quick shot of tequila, I press firmly upon the button and close my eyes. SHHHHHHHHCHHHCHCHHHCHHCHCH.

I look and the spider has cowered!! He has crumpled!! But wait - BACK UP AGAIN!! He is running behind my wedging table!!! YOU WILL NOT GET AWAY YOU FILTHY THING "SHHHHHHHHHHHHCHHCCSHCHSCHHHHHHHHHHSCHHS" goes the white liquid as I press again on the nozzle. "SCHhhh" "SCHHHHSCC" "SCHHHHHHHHHH." I see his legs covered in white goo, he looks like he has been freshly snowed upon.

I run out of the garage to gulp a breath of fresh air so that I do not also poison myself. THen I run back in. WHERE IS HE?? HE IS NOT ON THE WALL ANY LONGER

Then i see him. white, crispy, fallen, crumbled, on the ground. His legspan no longer visible as he is now lifting his legs around his body in pain and defeat. One leg lifting, the other stretching, he is dying, excruciatingly dying, and probably seeing Jesus at this very moment who is horrified that a human has done this very thing to a beautiful creation of the Father. What have I done. I am horrible, a murderer, a ruthless killer, a stupid, worthless excuse for a human being who is so afraid to kill a spider with my bare hands that I use some awful, dreadful, toxic chemical that is probably poisoning my very lungs and will kill me in the end.....

Oh, what have I done, to kill this creature, this exquisite work of art, this strong, powerful force of nature. Why did i not see the beauty of this creature, why did i not accept its place in my studio, why did I not notice that it is probably keeping other bugs out of the area....

Who am I, to enter this previously deserted garage, and expose it to light, when it had been for months a dark haven, a wonderful safe cave under the yard where communities of spiders could flourish and live to their heart's fullest? What have I done, what have I done? What made me think I had the right?

I watch this poor crumpled sticky mess on the floor, it is still struggling for life, it is still determined to survive. I wish that it were me down there, and that the spider had sprayed me and I would be absolved of this inexplainable guilt that I now feel.

I hang my head down. I look around the alley, to see if anyone has noticed the atrocity that I have just brutally premeditated and committed.

My stomach is sick.

I return to my kitchen, carefully returning the blue bottle to the back of the closet beyond sight.

I re-boil some water and make some vegarian taco meat for a salad.

Each crunch of my salad feels like I am chewing a spider's leg. It should have been me that died. It should have been me.

I am a murderer and coward.

It should have been me.