Spiders Are Incredibly Scary
The day started like any other. Awaking at 5:35 to the blasphemous sound of my alarm, I gave it a
good one across the snooze button.
The day started like any other. Awaking at 5:45, I pounced out of bed. Sunlight was barely visible through the shades, and illuminated my room like a prison.
My surroundings were a mix of grey and white, and it seemed as if the sun had neglected to add color to my world that day. I walked, slowly, deliberately, to the shower. As I made my journey, I tripped over my cat, Violet. A black cat with a white underside, she looked invisible in the faded room. She, who had seconds ago been static, unmoving, sprang to life. She then exacted her revenge on my foot, and I experienced a brief sensation of pain. The vibrance of the world finally sprang into my eyes; now I was awake.
I made it to the bathroom, and managed to turn on the water. The steam quickly rose and warmed me, and put an otherwise tense body at ease. I took in the smell of the place, and cleared my mind.
But my experience of bliss was soon shattered; a spider had made its way to the shower.
If anything strikes fear into me, and chills me to the bone, it is spiders. They are an abomination
of nature, and their very presence on this Earth proves to me God doesn't exist. Why would a benevolent lord allow such a torturous being to afflict me?
And now this wretch was scurrying around on the tile. Barely able to contain my disgust, I turned
the showerhead on the beast. Hit with the blast of hot water, the spider curled up all of its 8 legs
into a ball. My fear re-emerged, and all my mental energy also became focused on the arachnid's destruction.
A dance of death ensued between me, the showerhead, and the spider. Slowly, it drifted towards
the drain. I realized happily that this trauma would soon be over. The closer the spider got to its
demise, the wider my smile.
And then, it was over. I could proceed with cleaning myself, now that I had smitten my mortal
enemy.
I lingered in the shower, then, relishing my victory. I washed my hair, brushed my teeth, and
covered my body in soap. But I did not shave. I was growing a small beard, propagating the
community"s idea of me as an intellectual. My face was gritty, and felt like sandpaper. It gave an
air of superiority around me, made me seem older. Some people mistook me for twenty, but I
was too naive to be that old.
I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. My skin was shocked by the cold, and I
shivered in defense. The white tile all around me felt oppressive, emanated frost. The whole
room was one color. I didn't even feel alive.
Grabbing a towel, I wrapped myself up in it. It soaked up the water droplets on my skin, and I
was revived. I dressed, was wearing a sweater of charcoal and blue.
I walked slowly upstairs to the kitchen. Each step took great effort, and I was still moving
mechanically when I reached my destination. It was still that time of day when everything is
colorless, and time itself waits for you to wake up. Violet, who had earlier run from me, was up
on the table, posed, barely moving, almost as if in suspended animation. I stood there for a
minute and enjoyed the scene, as the sun slowly rose from behind the hills.
This was a story of courage. Usually, if I see a spider in the shower, I stay dirty for the rest of the day.