by CJ

Sasha couldn’t remember how her wedding ring had ended up on the kitchen windowsill, all she knew was that at some point it became part of the clutter.

Discarded between bottles of medicine and a neglected pot plant, it should have been invisible, but she knew it was there – a golden flicker out the corner of her eye as she ate breakfast each morning.

In a way, it had become a universal constant – the sun rose in the east through the kitchen window, and, every morning, it caught the metal and winked at her. Even on the cloudy days, or at the height of winter.

Summer barely made a difference to its shine, until that one day in July where something black caught her eye instead. A small fleck, skittering across the stone of the breakfast bar.

Sasha screamed, already up and halfway across the kitchen in the second it took to register the spider’s presence, grabbing the counter for support. Her mother would have called it an overreaction, but as a phrase applied liberally to anything from a facial spasm to a heart attack, Sasha had decided that it didn’t really count.

For one, the bitch had been dead for decades, and Sasha wasn’t one to take advice from anyone busy conversing with worms. And secondly, if arachnids weretruly so harmless, why would there be instincts to say otherwise?

Besides, spiders were always better viewed at a distance; thank goodness she had her glasses on, or she would have lost sight of the tiny bugger already.

Instinctively, she went to yell for Roy to come and help; he was always so good with creepy crawlies. Not because he was unphased by them – though that certainly helped – but because he was gentle.

If she wanted them killed, she’d do it herself without half as much trouble, and he knew that. So, every time she called, he’d come running with a piece of card in hand, sometimes one half-wet from his watercolours if she sounded scared enough. Then, he’d place the card behind the creature, tapping in front of its path so it turned and ran directly onto the sheet.

With the bug safely secured, he’d carry it out the back door and return with a kiss for her cheek, that proud little half-smile on his lips.

But not this time.

Unfortunately, she’d long-since lost the knack for taking anything out herself – even small spiders scared her too much these days. Perhaps it was Roy’s chivalry that had finally done her in. It certainly felt like that sometimes.

For a while, she stood at the far end of the room, just watching the tiny black dot go round and round her bowl of cereal, trying to work up the nerve to get closer. But the longer she waited, the more her limbs locked up, a rebellion they staged daily even without a spider on the loose.

By the time the clock on the wall hit fifteen minutes, Sasha decided she may as well swallow her pride and ask Dylan to help instead.

Hobbling across the room, she sidled up to the breakfast bar, watching the eight-legged freak warily. It had stopped moving, for now, but she knew better than to trust it.

Narrowing her eyes, she leant down, snatching her walking cane from its place resting against the spare chair as swiftly as she could manage.

The wood was a comforting weight in her hand, but the triumph of retrieving it far greater. Maud would be eating her words if she’d seen a move like that.

Adjusting her grip on the stick, Sasha raised it into the air, feeling as much a god in her own right as Thor himself.

Only, before she could shake it smugly at her foe, the thing started straight for her, it’s beady little eyes intent with tiny vengeance.

With a yelp, she hurried straight out of the kitchen, down the hall, and out the front door, not bothering to lock it. She wouldn’t be gone for long, Dylan was only next door, but if that bloody spider wasn’t still there when she got back – she would be having words.