Spider's Web

In the land of Shadows, it is easy to get lost. And it is easy to forget who you are and why you are here. That has happened to me several times, I must confess- it is so tempting to just think and feel and be, let memory fade into the shifting mirages before your eyes, the dancing lights that flicker in and out of the corners of your eyes. Â 1

I stalk my prey.2

Every word sounds the same in my ears, every sentence. I reflect. Well, those around me do tend to say the same thing over and over. Do your job. It is not in your right to argue. You dream too much, you are too spacey. Keep your mind focused on the task at hand. ÂIt is not the job of a Light Shade to question or think.3

The Deeper Shadows do not even speak to me, and I do not mind. I pass a crevice where they are working their magic, secretly in the depths of the cliff face. I have never seen this magic, nor do I know what they do with all the Doubts I bring home from my travels. I was told I am fortunate to be a Doubt Hunter. Not every Light Shade gets to participate in such wondrous work, such an important task… that I am most blessed to have the honor of bringing the Deeper Shadows the ingredients for the very core of their magic.4

So. The Doubt-Shadows are the core of the Deeper Shadow’s magic. I had learned something that day, when I became a Hunter, but what I learned only aroused my curiosity further. Light Shades are not allowed to touch or talk to the Doubt-Shadows, nor are they allowed to touch or talk to the Deeper Shadows. The Deeper are much more enlightened than we, they are the founders of the Shadow World and the keepers of everything within that gives us life. They have the ability to become the darkness that shrouds the night sky, the purifying black veil that keeps all memory, thought, and vision from the unworthy eyes of the less tangible Shadow People, such as myself. Light Shades are no more than tools, half-tangible Shadows to be used in the gathering of Doubts and the tending of menial duties. If a Light Shade does well, he or she may become a Wisp Shade, completely free of form and thought, content to dwell in the Upper Gray Area in their own form, as free beings. Their emotions are of constant richness and bliss, and they have no need for reflection or worry. Wisps are the least tangible of our kind, and therefore the most worthless in the eyes of the Deeper. However, they are free to do as they please, which is what most Light Shades desire more than anything. All their lives, Light Shades look forward to the day where they will pass to the unending bliss of the Upper Gray Area.5

I, however, do not.6

I have resigned myself never to follow in the footsteps of my fathers, brushing away question after question in order to attain the form of mindlessness that my people call enlightenment. How happy they were when my sister Iyena metamorphosed into a Wisp Shade! Tears came to my father’s eyes, and my mother sang in her beautiful, expressive voice. Expression, love, peace, contentment. And complete blindness. In the few days before my sister’s passing, (for she always was more talented in the ways of peace than any of us) she would not talk to any of us, would not say a word or look at us clearly. I saw her eyes, then, small and beady and barely existent. And I looked at her with my horrible, wide, intense gaze and asked her what it was like, to finally be enlightened. She never said a word to me, but looked at her hand in wonder, as if seeing it for the first time, and then she looked me straight in the eye. And I will never forget what I saw there.7

“My God, you don’t even know,� I said to her, although my words fell on shriveled ears that closed together like a dying insect. In that instant, she did not see me, did not remember me, did not recognize me. In that one glance, her eyes shrunk to the size of beads and she did not know her own people, her own life. And she didn’t know herself. 8

I start to walk more silently.9

There is no hope for me, a wide-eye, to attain the only good that can come of being a Light Shade… complete mindlessness. Thank God, whatever god indeed lurks beyond the imagination of one such as I, whose memories and ideas damn her to a life forever in slavery. The Doubts that I gather in tiny crystals shine against the light of stars obscured in the mists of Shadow Magic. I carry them in a necklace, each crystal reflecting what light it can catch through the thick mist. Sometimes I have wondered what stars truly look like beyond the mist that covers our world. My mind remembers a night a long time ago, when there were bright, bright lights. Not the kind of stars we have here, but others much bigger and much brighter, in a cold, dark, open night sky that radiated with the coldness of a world without barriers…10

A movement catches my eye, a fleeting glimpse of something. I turn abruptly, searching for the source. Perhaps tonight I will discover more of this memory. A Doubt? Out here? I had wandered out into the quiet part of town where only the Nightwanderers go. Not many Doubts follow Nightwanderers. I am surprised. I came out here not really expecting to find Doubts- they usually follow the Shadows and others who dwell in confined settlements. I feel excitement build up in my gut, brightening my day just a little more. Perhaps, with no one around to witness, I can learn much more than I expected.11

Curiosity is such a dangerous thing. Trouble is what they call it. It leads to pitiful Shades turning into wide-eyes and forsaking their only chance at happiness. It leads to daydreams and musing and questioning. It keeps the Shade from acceptance and contentment. It leads to weakness.12

I look around for the fleeting Doubt. I did not quite see what direction it went, so I decide to just pick a direction and slide. I am quite good at sliding, at becoming integrated enough to move through things faster than many can move on them. It is a trick I’ve learned over the years. And all the while my bulbous eyes search for the Doubt. Sure enough, I see its blurred form and its needle-like projections slowing it down. Doubts have to run on two feet, which keeps them from moving as fast as their shadowy counterparts, and not many have learned the secret of sliding like I have.13

I pursue the Doubt further, keeping just behind my prey, waiting for it to move into a good position for attack. This one seems to be a bit cleverer than the norm, though, and keeps to the open spaces, where I can’t easily corner it. Its shiny needles bulge and wave with the rhythm of its running. I follow, my body as rhythmless as the stagnant matter I move through. The Doubt knows it is being pursued, but not by whom. Its needles move away from its body, then closer, pulsing with its heartbeat, thrust in and out on a bed of sticky, blurry organ. It is concentrated rhythm, and I am going to catch it.14

And then, I am going to touch it.15

To touch a Doubt is forbidden. We are told it taints the soul of the Doubt, rendering them useless for Shadow Magic. But I was too curious. And I touched one, once. After that, I became a wide-eye and my parents were sorely disappointed, because their sole purpose in life is to see their many children become carefree Wisps. And I had damned myself by that one touch.16

I had been a Hunter for about six months, and always, looking at the crystals around my neck, I wondered why a touch should damage something as substantial as a Doubt. I had seen Doubts touch other objects and other creatures before… after all, they had to live and eat and interact somehow. But the Deeper do not pay attention to those kinds of dilemmas. What mystery do these Doubts hold? I wondered. So I caught a Doubt in my reflective crystal, but I let it out in a closed space, where I could see it. And then I reached out my hand and grabbed it by the wrist.17

My eyes widened. I saw a racing hand, coming down. It had a sort of spiky thing in its grasp, like the spike on the back of a Doubt. My heart raced. Blood filled my veins, shooting through my barely-animate form like lightning. I felt my chest go in and out. Breath. I remembered… breath. The images raced past, too fast for me to comprehend, but all the while it felt like a dream, a memory. I had been there before. I had seen everything- the brilliant stars in the endless sky, the crack-filled substance that ran under my feet when I walked on two legs, the square that opened to let me in. I saw the walls that even now seem so very real, much more so than anything I have seen. Tangible, complete. I saw this all with different eyes, eyes as wide as mine are now, but different. I heard with ears that remained open, as unnaturally open as mine are now, even after they should have shriveled a long time ago. I felt the surface of the wooden doorknob- where did that word come from?- with fingers that still run along the surface of objects like a child does when she explores. 18

And the Doubt had never even flinched. 19

It was I who had flinched, cringed even, at the flood of images that poured down my eager mind, ever ready to drink in more of the memory. Because, even though I had become a damned wide-eye, I had gained something that I could never forget, no matter how hard I tried. 20

I had gained the ability to remember.21

My stomach clenches. It had been a difficult experience, but I would never regret it. And somewhere, in the back of my mind, I knew there was more. Now, there was an opportunity to know. I could touch this Doubt like I had touched the last. I wouldn’t damage it, wouldn’t let it escape. Perhaps the words spoken by the Deeper about damaging the Doubts were not entirely correct. Perhaps the Deeper had never really understood, and so they guessed wrongly. Perhaps they were misinformed. Or, perhaps, they were lying.22

Now, several Doubts hang around my neck, waiting to be freed and their inspiration taken. Their crystal forms tempt me and my mind wanders yet again, to times long forgotten and memories untapped.23

Pain, I feel so much pain. 24

I follow, and wait, the pain like a jolt through my body. I feel almost like throwing up. I dread touching that thing now more than ever.25

But I have to, if I ever want to know.26

And it leads me down a path running alongside a cliff face. I could technically throw my net over it, pinning it against the wall. I could, but I don’t. There will be better opportunities, and it is running slowly. I will not tire. I can afford to be patient.27

It is dark and isolated. I ponder why I am letting it run itself out, why I even came out here in the first place. Nightwanderers are dangerous; what if I met up with some? No one comes out here, not even the Deeper, protected by magic. There is nothing out here.28

Nothing…29

Except solitude. Except escape. Except the chance to gain some new insight, to tie some pieces of the images together, the chance to awaken. And to see. God, I wanted to see. I wanted to know, more than anything. How much of what I was told is truth? Is there more to life than just forgetting?30

I follow, and the path is getting darker.31

Tangle vines mar the path, growing up from fissures in the smoky gloom to weave in and out of the mist like loosely knitted threads. Mist becomes fog. The path becomes a tangle of branches, stones, and moisture. There is a stickiness to the air, and gliding through the depths of the earth feels like swimming through a mound of ants. The matter crawls along my skin, making me itch and want to leave. I don’t. I continue. Following my prey through the darkness, into a depth of the world that I have never explored, never questioned. It felt wonderful, as if I were going to puke, as if I were being eaten alive, as if I were trapped beneath some heavy boulder, my chest compressed as far as it will go. Breathe. Just breathe, and fill air fill your lungs. Lungs? I am a Light Shade, I have no lungs… I have no heart, no organs, I am only half-conscious, I feel nothing. Yet I have flesh, I can integrate with matter, and it feels like home. I felt as if I were going to scream, as if the hand in my vision were reaching for me with its sharpness, as if I were going to die. It felt wonderful. Because I could feel at all.32

Through the mist there is a hush, a death-like stillness unbroken except for the whisper-like footfalls of the Doubt. I listen intently for other sounds that might herald trouble. I hear nothing for a good distance. Then, all of a sudden, I hear a scratching to my left. Unseen and undetectable, I startle only mentally. Still, there is something unnerving about that sound. Shivers crawl up my flesh, interacting with the matter that crawls all over me and sending it into alertness. The Doubt turned toward the sound. I follow, more curious than I had ever been.33

A knife. Yes, the sharp spine in its hand. A knife, and brown, stringy hair. I freeze in fear. Where am I? Its eyes like a spider’s, cold and fearless. Predator and prey. I am on the wrong side. I hunt, oh God, I am the Hunter. I have the knife.34

I am the Hunter.35

And eyes like a spider’s, looking at me from every angle. And I see death. And I see my life. And I know why memory is lost in this place. And I scream, but not out loud. Its eyes looking at me, wide and open like mine, eight eyes…36

And there she is, in the middle of her web. The Doubt runs to her and she springs, grabbing it in her long, thin, powerful limbs. She bites, and all its life is taken into her. I watch her, fascinated. She knows I am here. She knows who I am. She knows what I know, and she has the answer to my questions. But she keeps spinning, slowly, deliberately, light coming from god knows where, flashing across the silken threads. And then I notice the light coming from her eyes. Her huge, bulbous eyes that look like mine, that look like his. That look like death’s…37

She weaves. And her web stretches as far as the eye can see. Between walls and vines and shadow-plants. All over tangle vines and over rocks and through and beyond the mist. It is everywhere, and reaches through the earth, to where the ants crawl all over my skin, shivers placating them and then exciting them. The Doubt never was anything but a reflection, and she finishes it quickly, leaving behind an empty husk.38

I can’t breathe. God, where are my lungs? I can’t breathe, and I am dying. Is this how it feels, to be dead? Is this how my mom felt, at the hospital? How grandpa and grandma felt as their life slowly ran out of time? How Jesse felt halfway-birthed, as he took both his first and last breaths in a new world that could never make room for him?39

No, it shouldn’t feel this horrible.40

No, not horrible. Wonderful. Because somehow, the violence kept me awake, when I should have been asleep.41

When I should have become one of them, and I should have forgotten.42

But I will never forget.43

And now the rage comes back to me. He said he’d loved me. He said he’d take care of me. He said he’d love me forever, and keep me safe. There was a night sky, so perfect, so clear. And then he came, arms wrapped around me, nerves like ants up and down my arms. They crawled, and I felt sick to my stomach. And I said no, I stopped him. I was strong, I was fast, I was good. I would not be pushed around. I was free, and I was intact.44

And then, I was dead.45

No. NO. NO. No no no no. Not dead. I had just opened my eyes. I had just won, the tears still in my eyes, still staining the face that once looked up to him with absolute trust.46

She spins her web, and the strands glisten. They reach everywhere, and she pulls them out into the open, where I can see. Where I can know, and be satisfied. 47

I had failed. He had a knife. He pounded, so hard, so brutally, and I couldn’t stop him. I could feel his weight crushing my chest, and I wanted to die. I wanted him to push that knife deeper into my neck, to feel the warm blood seep from my worthless body. And then it came down. I screamed, but not out loud. Only looked up at him with wide, wide eyes and felt the weight come down in my throat. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe! 48

Darkness.49

It is always followed by darkness.50

And I come out to the shadows, and look her straight in her beautiful, horrible eight eyes. I look and see light. She can see too far, she can see and do nothing but weave this eternal nightmare until the whole world is covered in sticky spider threads. I see wide-eyes, and the reflection of myself. We speak together. This is the same time, the same place, these are the same words that I told her. And I look for death as I looked for it then, an end to a life I was never supposed to live.51

She was more than willing to oblige.52

He woke up, panting and sweating. Soon they would come to get him. They had to find out sooner or later. He didn’t exactly leave an obvious trail but there are all sorts of high tech gadgets and trained professionals looking for someone exactly like him. Lovers are prime suspects. He knew that. It wouldn’t be long.53

He looked at the clock. Two hours of sleep. He wouldn’t get any more, he knew. He didn’t want to. Every time he did, he saw that damn spider. And thread, weaving in and out of consciousness, the sound of scuttling and the feeling of ants crawling up and down his spine. He shivered; even in the summer heat it was always cold. And even in the night there were always piercing eyes following his every move. An impending darkness, a veil over the once clear night sky, smothering him ever closer, so much so that he sometimes stopped breathing altogether. He had to get out of there, he had to escape the nets that were closing in on him.54

If it weren’t for his damn nightmares, he would be able to rest. God, if it weren’t for that damned spider. If it weren’t for those long, unforgiving nights that left him waking half-starved and half-living in this damned hell-hole of an existence.55

If she had only said yes the first time…56

But that day had passed, and he had proved his dominance. Except now, he wasn’t so sure. The nightmares would never go away. Somehow, she would find a way to torment him. With eyes wide, seeing everything. God, he couldn’t escape. He knew he couldn’t. She is everywhere. And, wherever she was, she had never really forgotten what he had done to her.57

And he knew she never would.58