Spider Love
© Stephen Cain
1,550 words
Are you awake?
The body had been dumped into a disused concrete reservoir in the hills, but it was soon removed from there and placed in a coffin which was loaded into a hearse with black plumes that flew in the never-ending wind. The hearse was driven by one who was without a face and dressed all in black and wore an elaborate ring set with pale greenstone. After a time, he stopped the hearse because of the sounds that were coming from the coffin. He climbed out, hurried to the back of the hearse and quickly unscrewed the lid. She was still beautiful, clothed in a silken nightdress. She opened her eyes and raised her head, but was unable to speak. She made a supreme effort. The writhing, buzzing darkness faded, but something remained.
"I was dreaming," Phaedra answered at last.
"Anything good?" Paul asked.
"It was kind of weird—something about—something—oh, I can't remember."
"Dreams are like that."
"Yes. I wish I could remember it though—it seemed important somehow, as though it was supposed to mean something."
"Don't go all Freudian on me."
"Aha! Und vot do you vont for breakfast, mine Jung fellow?"
"You, silly."
"Ha-ha. You'll have to catch me first."
Shall I call you to me now?—shall I shear through the delicate membrane which separates you and I? Perhaps I will let you stay for a while yet.
"Don't," Phaedra said.
"Why not?"
"I feel—funny—as though someone just walked over my grave, you know?"
"It's a sure-fire cure for the heebie-jeebies."
"Please don't."
But she did not resist when he pulled her silken nightdress up to her armpits and pinned her down onto the bed.
The cure seemed to work. When Paul had gone she put up her long hair and went to the kitchen in search of food—the half-full packet of chocolate eclairs in the fridge would do. She wondered why there are mad people who deny themselves such things—nothing that Phaedra ate ever affected her ethereal slenderness.
Smudge the cat was sitting on the fence outside the kitchen window staring at Phaedra as she stared at the last eclair wondering whether she really wanted it. When the darkness crawled back out from wherever it had been hiding, menacing the exposed nape of her neck, she leapt up and spun around before the part of her that thought her fears silly could prevent it. She squinted at the window, not breathing. All she saw was Smudge. She wondered whether a cloud might have drifted in front of the sun—but the sky was perfectly clear. The part of her that thought her fears silly tried to tell her that it was only her mind playing tricks again as she slid the last eclair back into its cellophane packet and put it back in the fridge, but the croaking of the mynah birds that lived in the old trees at the end of the garden silenced the part of her that thought her fears silly.
She rang Paul at work. The jitters had her by the shoulders, shaking her pitilessly as she chattered on and on.
"Look, I'm sorry sweetheart, but I've got so much on today. Talk to you tonight, ok?" he said finally.
"Ok—bye." She had to use both hands to replace the receiver.
Come to me soon, for I love you more than he does. Dwell in me as I shall dwell in you, and in our mutual touching creation shall be complete and we shall be one—infinite conscious substance.
Finally! She heard the car pull up, heard the car door slam, heard the footsteps on the concrete path. She was at the front door when it opened.
"Hello, sweetheart," Paul said.
"Mmmm—hello. Did you get all of that dreadful, horrible work done, my darling," Phaedra asked.
"More or less, but there'll be plenty more of it tomorrow."
"Poor darling."
"Uh-huh."
"I'm sorry I bothered you when you were busy. I'm feeling a lot better now. I do get so jumpy sometimes, being around here on my own all day."
"Uh-huh." Paul seemed preoccupied. "Sweetheart?" he asked suddenly.
"Yes?"
"Did you pay this month's bills?"
"Yes."
"All of them?"
"Yes."
"The insurances?"
"Yes. Why do you ask?—you know I always look after the bills."
"I just wanted to be certain."
"Certain?"
"Certain that you are still worth more to me dead than alive."
"Haa haa—very funny."
Are you awake now? I watched you twisting and turning, despairing. I loved you then, and even when you stopped, while you were transformed in the seething darkness. I waited patiently for the little helpers to metamorphose and fly away, to behold at last your pale perfection, to clothe you in drifting webs of silk. Ah—and yet let us leave these thoughts behind for time is upon us.
Phaedra stood looking at the tiny thing in her hand—she had never seen a green spider before. It was so perfect that it seemed a holy thing—a living crystal of green fire, of a mystery so pure that it can be grasped with the heart only, not the mind. She let it crawl on to the back of her hand—it seemed happy to remain there.
She loved to walk in the wooded hills behind the house. She often found things while walking—a white stone, a golden feather—and now a green spider. Finding things made her feel that she was not alone. Would a blind, uncaring universe leave such wonderful things for her to find? Surely not.
Evening was fast approaching. She abandoned the hilltop to its never-ending wind, to its racing sky and hurtling, dark-plumed clouds, and began to walk down through the deep shadows beneath the pines toward the lower slopes where the houses were.
Light was fading rapidly as Phaedra reached the lower edge of the forest. She stepped out from beneath shadowy trees into a twilight that had drained the verdure from garden leaves while touching orange, yellow, pink and red flowers with a spectral glow. The house lay in shadow. Paul would not arrive home until the night had completely swallowed the day. She would follow the day into the viscera of deep blue silence and lie motionless—waiting, eagerly anticipating his arrival.
Phaedra awoke. The writhing darkness fled.
The front door had closed with a bang. Paul was padding down the carpeted corridor. The kitchen door clicked—he would be thinking about food. She drifted back into sleep, but was awakened again by the microwave timer's bleeping. He had heated something. She sat up, rearranged her nightdress and glided along the corridor. The kitchen door was open. Paul was seated at the kitchen table deeply engrossed in hacking up an oversized steak with fork and carving knife, urgently stuffing large lumps of it into his mouth, pausing occasionally to wash it down with greedy gulps from a can of Steinlager. She waited at the door until he had finished, enjoying his pleasure as he ate and drank. He stood up, dropped the greasy plate and utensils into the sink with a clatter and grabbed another can from the fridge.
"Paul," she whispered.
He looked up. The can he was opening slipped from his grasp. He did not notice the flood of beer suddenly frothing around his stockinged feet. His hand flew to his mouth. His eyes bulged.
She drifted towards him with arms outstretched. "Paul, my darling," she cooed, placing one hand on his shoulder and lightly, ever so lightly, brushing the bare skin of his neck with the other.
Paul uttered a strangled squeak, spun and scrambled for the back door, scrabbled desperately at the handle and finally burst through the door into the night. Phaedra heard the car door click open and then thump shut again, heard the starter-motor fail once, twice, three times. She listened as the motor snarled its imitation of life, as the car lurched through the gates and accelerated along the street. She went outside and stood on the lawn while the distant screaming of motor and brakes faded to silence.
"Paul?" she asked the night.
Receiving no answer, she turned slowly back towards the black hillside that loomed up behind the house, her nightdress of drifting spider-silk rippling as she crossed the moonlit lawn.
Are you awake? The car came to rest beneath the giant tree ferns at the bottom of a gully. You could not escape—how you screamed!—but it will be better for you if you lie still and rest now. None shall attend you here but the lone mopoke and twittering fantail, and the little writhing ones who will come to gnaw away the ugliness of your sin, but do not fear, for I will not leave you. And sleep no more, for I have many secrets to whisper to you; nor dream—for what need have you of dark visions? Gaze only on the green miracle that will unfold identically in each of the precious eggs I will place in your empty eye sockets.