The Creeping Terror 

A True Story From My Writing Life

Stardate: 18/07/2017 Richard’s front room.

It began as a tingling that I quickly dismissed as nothing. The tingling continued, so I brushed myself down and carried on typing. A little later, I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye. ‘Pft!’ I huffed, must be going crazy. It happened again. Something black was moving. Ordinarily, I’d have jumped up and wrestled the lion or whatever it was, but I’ve had trouble with my eyes this last week, so dismissed it as wobbly-vision. 

When I felt something crawling up my shorts, I took more decisive action. I placed my iPad to one side, cool as a cucumber, honest, then leapt up. A spider fell out of my shorts and legged it under my writing chair before I could get him. I was not pleased. I like my writing chair and didn’t/don’t want to move. So, the waiting game is on. Who’ll blink first? Who’ll win this war of attrition? And most of all, should I put my trousers on? These are just some of the questions I shall try to answer when I next update you on THE CREEPING TERROR!

Disclaimer: The above image may or may not be an accurate representation of my foe. 

Spiderling No More

Spiderling No More

It shifted around the tabletop like a mote of dark dust caught in the draught of two open doors. An atom of charcoal, the little creature jigged its way between mine and my brothers’ fingers unaware of the giants we were.

“It’s an ant,” said Jonny.

“No it’s not, you idiot, it’s a fruit fly.” Pete shook his head, his eyes flicking left to right as though loose.

“If it was a fruit fly, it’d fly. Geez, you lot are imbeciles,” huffed Alfie. He was older than Jonny, Pete and me, and liked to prove his intelligence at every opportunity. But I knew better.

“You’re all wrong.”

“Who says?” hissed Alfie.

“Says me. It’s a little spiderling.”


“Clean your ears out, I said spiderling.”

I watched our tiny guest bob up and down as if agreeing. Either that, or the earthquake that was our oldest brother’s approach, Gordy, caused such vibrations as to lift the tiny spider repeatedly into the air.

“What are you lot doing?” Gordy’s usual no-nonsense arrival.

“We’ve caught a spider-thing,” exuded Alfie.

“There ain’t no such thing.”

“There is!” protested us younger four.

“Wanna bet?”

“You’re on.”

With that, Gordy thrust his hand down on the table like a great fallen slab of stone. “Now it’s a splatter-ling. I win.”

He was off before we could catch him; just an inkblot stain remained.

That was the day I realised how precious life was. One splat and you’re gone.

November 2nd

There is a cold, fog settled over the landscape. The grey obscures the Summer gone and softens the introduction of unseen snows. Yet, despite the poor visibility, the fallen curtain reveals the impossible: millions of cobwebs. The spiders have been busy during the night with their trampolines and sports nets. If not for the November fog and the run I still took, they would have remained invisible and I would have missed a miracle of this time of the year. There’s always something to see, you just have to look.

These Worlds

Suspended in time

Held in place

Invisible thread

Reflected face

Hundreds of droplets

Each a world

Draped all about

Life unfurled

Created by spiders

Or by God

I’m unsure which

These worlds are odd

Sparkling glints

In moments born

A million more

Upon my lawn

Watched intently

Until they fade

A beauteous morning

These worlds have made

The Spider (Horrific & True Tales)

I took this photo myself. I apologise that I daren’t get any closer.

We have a spider

That’s ever so large

She hangs from our window

The size of a barge

I wander up to her

And peer through the glass

But all I can see 

Is her gigantic ass

She’s covered in blood

That pours from her teeth

She’s eaten the postman

But that’s a relief

She gives me the feeling

She’s biding her time

What she doesn’t know

Is that I’m biding mine

For if she does hanker

To clamber inside

I’ll splatter her good

Or sprint off and hide