Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #20 November 2015 | Page 62

are ridiculously common, especially at this time of
year, and the speaker must have known that. I smiled
and wondered how many others were having a similar
experience after the lecture that evening. Soon there
was quiet. Just the gentle sound of my breathing and
the faint tick-tock of the clock on the wall. It was a
quarter of an hour before I noticed a tickling sensation
in the toes on my right foot.

it was said. It must have been some kind of parlour
trick, the power of suggestion or something, but still
the thought lingered like an unwanted guest: What if it
were true?
I felt I needed some distraction, so decided to
read, in an effort to clear my mind. I reached over and
switched on the bedside light as I went to pick up my
book, but then stopped. Frozen in mid-motion I stared
at a small shadow on the wall just a few inches from
my hand. It was a spider.
It wasn’t especially large, but it certainly
wasn’t small, and it just hung there motionless, a foot
away. A chill passed through me and my skin turned to
gooseflesh. One thought came to the forefront of my
mind, a single word imprinted on my consciousness:
Anansi.
I felt fear rush through my system. It was
irrational, ridiculous, just an overactive imagination
that’s all, but my heart was beating faster. Meanwhile,
the spider didn’t move.
I leant back and tried to focus on my book,
keeping the spider in my peripheral vision just in case,
but still the spider didn’t move.
I skimmed over the same page a few times,
paragraph after paragraph, but nothing was going
in. I soon realised the issue of the spider had to be
addressed.
I fetched a glass and coaster from the kitchen,
hoping I wouldn’t have to touch this creature.
Meanwhile, the spider didn’t move. In the end I had to
coax it into the glass with the coaster, and soon it was
captured, carried, and released out of the window into
the wild.
I let out a sigh of relief. It was silly, but it was
one of those moments where it felt like a weight had
been lifted off my shoulders. I returned to bed, picked
up my book, and slowly settled down. House spiders

It was an odd sensation. Not quite an itch, but
a very faint irritation that wouldn’t go away. I rubbed
my feet together, but it only brought a momentary
relief and soon the sensation returned. Reluctantly, I
pulled back the duvet to see if there was anything in
the bed, and there was. Dozens of tiny spider babies,
each only a few millimetres long, crawling all over my
feet.
I kicked them away and then leapt out onto
the floor. I began scraping the spiders off the sheets,
stamping on them and crushing them with the flat of
my book. Soon the majority seemed to have gone,
but I vacuumed the floor, changed the sheets, and
showered just to be certain. Was this some kind of
practical joke? I thought. But who would do this, and
how, and why? It had to be a coincidence, just a stupid
and terrifying coincidence.
I lay back down. I was so angry at myself for
this irrational fear and frustrated at the adrenaline still
pumping through my veins. I needed sleep, but my
body was on high alert. Tears became the only release.
Soon hot and salty tears stung my eyes and filled my
nose to create a snotty blubbering mess. I shook and
trembled and curled into the foetal position. It wasn’t
real, I told myself. Anansi wasn’t real.
Some time later, I woke to find myself in the
pitch blackness of night. The adrenaline had finally
left my system, and my body was still sluggish from
sleep, but my mind was active and wide awake. With
some effort I managed to roll onto my back and take in
my surroundings. I wasn’t thirsty and I didn’t need the
bathroom, so I was confused as to why I had woken
up. The pillow was slightly damp with the residue
of my sweat and tears, but my skin wasn’t clammy.
I strained my ears to see if there may have been a

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