Itsy-Bitsy Spider

                It was a terrible day at work. I drove home in the pouring rain as the cold front came through with strong winds. My poor little Geo Prism basically flew around in the wind. I loved my car, but a lot of the time it felt like I was driving a toy right out of a Happy Meal from McDonald's. My boss was a real jerk today and honestly I kind of look forward to my monster infested apartment. Sometimes the real world can make a horror story look like a fun night of relaxation. I guess that may sound a bit dramatic to some, but once you seen the fangs that some people have in customer service, you’ll agree. I had a lady cuss me out over the phone because when the delivery guys dropped off her couch today they scuffed up the leather a bit. You might be sympathetic to her frustration, but the scuff was on the underside of the couch. The underside. Not one person can or ever will see the mark until they pick it up to move it, but apparently that’s enough to call me, a stranger who didn’t even touch the couch, a baffling idiot. People: making monsters seem like fun. I arrived and opened my door and just said the same word over and over again in shock: “Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.”

                My apartment, from wall to wall, was covered in thick, gray webs. It’s like someone hadn't cleaned in a long while and some spiders were slipped some cocaine. It was thick as I stuck my hand through the first strand to break through. I could just decide to not go in, but the problem with this curse is it’s not stationary; it will follow me no matter where I go. If I slept in my car, there would be a car filled with spider webs right now. I might as well keep this nastiness out of sight of nosy neighbors. I walked in and shut the door. I didn’t see any movement but that’s good. Regular or monster-style, I do NOT like spiders in any way or form. I know that God created all animals and all animals are beautiful and so… blah blah blah. Screw that. Screw webs. Screw spiders. I have absolutely zero tolerance for their nasty legs and their big creepy eyes. I walked through to the kitchen in hopes that it might just be the webs to bug my mind. Ha. Bug. Anyways, I grabbed the kitchen broom and started to tear down as much of the disgusting web as I could. It was so thick and plentiful that my broom kept getting stuck, like I was trying to pull down ropes or vines.

                After yanking a few times on the strand which wrapped around my make shift web-remover, I remembered something about spiders that made me think twice about my actions: spiders build webs, then hide until something lands in their webs and send vibrations throughout it. It’s then that the spiders come out to see what they’ve caught for dinner. Give it to the curse to be scientifically correct. I kept yanking and saw something moving in the corner of my left eye. My pantry was opening and I wasn’t the one prying it open for peanut butter. It moved slowly, so I decided to turn my head in the same fashion. There they were, eight, black eyeballs staring right into mine. If it had been any closer we’d be kissing. It was about as big as my head and if you knew me at all, I have a pretty big head. It gave off a kind of squealing noise while retreating back into the pantry and the broom finally broke free from its bonds and since I was pulling on it full force I fell right on my back, swinging and yelling in fear. I had an idea. If I could manage to throw it into the trash can and put the lid on, maybe it wouldn’t bother me the rest of the night, hoping that there’s only one little devil. I mustered up my courage and with a strong yell I flung open the cabinet with broom in hand and stopped short. There wasn’t a spider, just a big hole in the wall where the spider easily escaped through. “That is SO not okay” were the only words to pass through my clenched teeth. I heard the squealing, ticking noise behind me and I turned, ready to swing, but it was too late.

                The spider, about two feet in size, was already in the air for its aerial assault. It landed pretty much on my face and was surprisingly strong for its size. I wrestled with it, screaming in fear. I could feel its hairy little legs trying to wrap around my face, it was simply the most horrifying sensation I have ever come into contact with. It gives me the chills just writing about it right now. It had me. There was no way it was going to be stopped from sinking its fangs into my face, which I can tell you, is the LAST thing I EVER want to happen to my face. I took a deep breath and just said the words in a pleading fashion “Please. Please don’t bite my face” and well, it didn’t. It actually stopped and stared into my eyes for a second which gave me the upper hand. I threw the little monster into the corner and, being quick on my feet, grabbed my can of air freshener with a lighter ready. If I had a real flame thrower, my apartment would be up in flames already.

                It squealed in fear at the sight of my stream of fire as I yelled that it was going to burn! It seemed more scared than I did. I took a second to think and realized that it didn’t bite my face when it had the chance, so why should I burn it? I mean in all reality, it probably thinks I came into its house and started crap with it! I let go of the can’s button and killed the flame and said plainly “Look, it seemed like you understood me earlier so I’m assuming you can understand me now. Don’t bite or attack me and I won’t hit you with a broom or cook you like a sausage. Alright?” It gave a kind of shrill purr in response. I sat on my couch and turned on the TV. On the other side of the couch in the corner of the room rested the little.. well.. big spider perched up in a web watching TV. “Let’s get one thing straight. We are NOT friends” I blurted out. This little monster still wasn't as bad as that lady with the "GREAT SCRATCH ON HER BRAND NEW COUCH". I guess it really isn't fair to judge a book by it's cover, even when the book's cover is disgusting beyond belief. I called him Crawly, that little freak.

Shawn Frite

The Worst Enemy

                I turned the key and took a big breath of suspense as I opened the door and dropped my bag on the floor. Everything looked normal so far today, nothing out of the ordinary, but I knew better than to let my guard down. I had two options: run to my room and grab my football helmet to protect my face or make a sandwich. It took me about 20 seconds to find a clean knife for the peanut butter. I poured a tall glass of milk, making sure to smell it, I mean who knows, the horror I face tonight could be rancid milk. I mean, have you tasted that stuff? I’d rather fight a monster over a glass of expired milk any day. One can’t check over his or her own shoulder enough when you know there’s something just waiting to pop out and hurt you. It’s more annoying than anything. I mean I’ve gotten used to the pain at this point; a broken leg, a fractured jaw, they’d both be healed by tomorrow morning when I wake up. Thank goodness for that part of the curse; my medical bills would be through the roof. I sat down with my peanut butter and jelly, strawberry of course, and turned on the TV. I heard the toilet flushed and I let loose a sigh. I was so close to digging into my sandwich.

                Here it comes, some kind of maniac with a big ax, heck it could be a killer toilet for all I know. Last week I was just hearing funny noises all night, which you wouldn’t think would be that scary, but with the serious paranoia of something cutting you open even a mouse squeaking is enough to make you jump. I just didn’t really feel like caring today. Perhaps I’ve been beaten up too much. Who knows, maybe the real weight of this curse is starting to wear off finally and I’m going to be able to handle this easily from now on. I mean sticks and stones can break my bones, but I’m pretty mentally stable. At least that’s what I was thinking until I finally got the courage to look at this misshapen, hideous creature that awaits me. I threw a quick glance while taking a sip of my milk and ended up spitting all over the floor. I had to dart my eyes immediately back to the horror I had to face this night. The sight was chilling beyond words. It was me. He sat there eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and drinking a glass of milk and glanced over at me with the same kind of surprised look. I stared with my mouth open.

                We stared at each other for a few seconds and he finally blurted out “I get it, you’re supposed to me, that’s an interesting choice from the curse”. Of course I laughed and put him in his place, explaining that he was clone that the curse that he put there. We argued back and forth for quite a while. It turns out the only person as stubborn as me, is me. We both took the high road and tried to drop the argument at the same time. The smug jerk. The thought started reeling in my head and I kind of guessed that he or it was having the same second thoughts. I mean, what if I was really just the curse and I was convinced that I’m the real me? If not, then this doppelganger is going to attack me any second and sense it will hurt I’m a tad bit jumpy at his subtlest of moves, even just for his glass of milk. It actually was more frustrating to me that he was so convinced that I was the monster.

                It really started getting under my skin. I mean I didn’t really remember my day at work. It was kind of a blur. What if I was the monster? I tried to block it out for a while but hearing him laugh at the same jokes I enjoy from TV shows just really irked me. On top of that this guy had a nonchalant attitude towards me, which is usually how I… or should I say Shawn would act. I started running through the possibility that maybe, just maybe, I am the monster. Then it’s pretty much my duty to kill him. It was a little weird thinking that I’d have to fight this guy whether or not I am the monster. I mean, he is me after all. I really got to the point where I was ready to make the first move. I mean if I’m the monster I should do my job and if I’m not the monster then he’s going to attack me. The suspense was killing me.

                He got up to move to the kitchen and I figured I should prepare myself. There’s tons of knives in the kitchen. I reached down to grab the knife I left on my table to cut my sandwich and picked up the sandwich for one last bite. I absolutely love peanut butter and jelly. I took a bite and spat it out instantly. It had grape jelly. That idiot. I don’t own a jar of grape jelly. I put down the knife as he passed by. I waited the whole night for him to jump out with some kind of weapon, but it never came. Midnight hit and he was gone and I was simply off to bed. I’m glad I didn’t attack him though out of paranoia, it may have made me a better person. I guess sometimes the scariest thing can be ending becoming what you hate and giving into being the monster.

Shawn Frite

October 9^th, 2014

                This time I was ready. I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one was looking. You see, it tends to look a little crazy for a man to put on a hockey mask and place a bat in his hand before unlocking his apartment door, but like I said, I’m ready this time. Last night I got pretty hurt. This giant snake wrapped me up pretty good and I’m almost positive it cracked a rib, but as usual I was healed up by morning. How annoying. You see the monster or whatever will disappear right at midnight, so I can at least get some sleep. What a courteous curse. Either way I have to deal with it until then and if you think I’m just going to let it throw me around like Mr. Snake like last night, you’re dead wrong! After the lock clicked open I walked in to see a woman. It’s odd enough to see a woman in my apartment, let alone floating off the ground. I didn’t take my chances. I took a forward step, charging my fears and fighting the chills running through my skin and I let the Louisville slugger fly. I thought maybe I’d aim for her head, but even for an evil thing, whose sole purpose is to hurt me, it felt like a pretty cheap shot. Let’s just say, it was a mistake. The bat passed right through her as if she was the wind herself. I kind of threw out my shoulder with the bad swing, but then again I was never really one who was good at sports.

                Regardless of the lack of contact, this just alerted her that I was there. She, still floating of course, turned slowly and I got to see her face in full. Her hair was thin, white, and draped down to her knees. Her eyes were far from normal; they were grey and almost glowing, but it was her mouth that I remember the most. I have trouble trying to describe it, but her mouth was huge. I mean it looked normal at first, but when we made eye contact she grew this smile and boy it went from ear to ear. She revealed her teeth under the yellow glow of my living room light. Now, thanks to TV and natural horror movie formula, I expected all of her teeth to be jagged and sharp, but it was the opposite. She had wide, flat teeth, almost like cubes in her mouth. I really didn’t know what to expect from here; maybe she was going to bite me? All I knew is I was kind of glad I had the bat still in my hands for defense, but then I realized that if the bat went through her, then maybe she couldn’t hurt me physically! Maybe this was one of those nights where she was just supposed to scare me a bit; at least I could only hope so.

                I was wrong. She took a deep breath, her jaw looking unhinged, and let the air release. Her screech made me drop to my knees in pain as I looked upon that satisfying look upon her face. What a jerk, am I right? She was a banshee. I, in frantic pain, threw the bat at her, which, of course, went through her vapory head and then through my TV. That was brilliant, Shawn, she never saw THAT coming. I immediately covered up my ears again, mostly because I had no idea on what else to do. This was weird. Not only did the screaming from her ugly mouth make me feel like my head was going to pop, but it was much worse than that. Through the piercing sound I could hear all these voices at once talking very solemnly and slow. It must have been thousands of voices all talking at once, but I could hear them all at the same time, but still comprehend every word. They all said things like “He was too young” or “She was cherished by those gathered here today”. Then I realized that the screaming, the screeching part, was nothing more than the sound of weeping of everyone who heard the words. It was awful. I wish Mr. Snake was back to play; at least I had a bat for him. My dang dainty hands weren’t enough to block out the sound. That’s frustrating. My hands are small and that’s obviously a trouble in itself. Can’t play guitar, can’t swing a bat right, can’t block out the sounds of a banshee trying to melt my brain, oh but if there’s something that falls down a small drain I am your man!

                It was hard to even think straight with all of the noise. I couldn’t bear this. Some of the monsters I engage are actually kind of fun to deal with. I once fought an apartment full of porcelain dolls and I can’t tell you how satisfying it was to throw one of those little things against the wall. It was hysterical! I finally realized that I needed something to permanently block out the noise.  First I tried some headphones with loud music, but it went through pretty easy, but still better than my tiny hands. I quickly ran to the box my father left me and opened it. It was an old gun box with a revolver and about 4 bullets rolling around. I slide the firearm aside and found exactly what I was looking for: the ear protection for a gun range. I put it on over my headphones and all I could hear was the classical piano from my headphones. I looked right into the Banshee’s face and laughed. I could tell she wasn’t pleased, but that’s what I was hoping for. That grin she had turned to a frown. I watched her as she tried to breathe deeper and yell louder, but she couldn’t pierce the ear protection. Funny, right? I brought a bat to handle my problem and I ended up listening to Bohemian Rhapsody while eating a sandwich in front of the monster. Midnight came and the Banshee was gone with a frown of disappointment. Interestingly enough, sometimes problems need to be confronted with a creative solution, rather than a direct one. 

Shawn Frite