Embryonic Araneae
Hope Petersen
"Untitled" Travis Klancher
It’s dark in here
I can’t remember when I got here
I don’t remember a before
It has always just been me snugged into this pocket
I am all folded up
The space is small
What fills the gap is something not quite water
I can hear muffled sounds
I hear a voice
Softened still by the space between
another voice
The orb lights up
A foggy glow through the skin of my place
A shadow is nearing
The small circle descends upon my egg
The bayonet pierces right next to where I am curled
Something tears
Light begins to stream in
I am falling
I land where it is hot and bright
Three large beings above me
Six eyes stare back at my eight
Their mouths open wide
And make a sound that screams at my insides
I jump
I try to scuttle back to the remains of my home
My eight squishy legs are too shaky for this,
Never have been unfolded from the den
They can’t hold me up
My dance turns to panic
I don’t think they are ready
This new place begins to feel wrong
Sucking in the air leaves me breathless,
It's so thin compared to the orb
Did they give me this skinny breath to breathe?
The warmth of the orb leaks out through my legs
I make one last attempt to get back to the egg
I recognize a small pointed end in the grip of the being
It was there when the orb broke open
And think, “Was it the laughing faces who banished me?”
I don’t understand
My small round body gets tangled in my own lanky legs and
I teeter, tumble, roll
Right into their pointed weapon
It mushes straight through me like the jelly in my orb,
This descent takes more time
I shrink like the broken orb
The brightness above forces my eyes shut
And as my body goes cold all over
I open my eyes
It’s dark in here