“Eww… oh my god!” My girlfriend sat up, gripping her phone in profound disgust. I looked over, curious as to what sparked her revulsion.
“What is it, baby?“ I half chuckled as I lowered my phone, locking my eyes onto her.
“This… what just popped up on my feed… it just made me uncomfortable.”
“OH MY GOD!” She shouted suddenly, her long blonde hair shaking as she covered her mouth with her trembling hand.
“Are you ok? What is it?”
“I think I’m gonna puke!” She exclaimed as she gagged, dry heaves rocking her diaphragm.
“Are you ok?” Worry seeped through my pores as I sat up in my recliner. After a few seconds, she settled down.
“I’m fine… I think. I don’t know.” Her facial expression betrayed her words as the sweaty lines in her forehead deepened, her lips curled in a look desperate for reassurance.
“What did you see? What is it?” I repeated.
“It was an old photo on Tik-Tok.”
I rose from my seat and plopped myself down next to her, the cloth seat cushion curling around me. I leaned in close and hugged her, the warmth from her body comforting.
“Can I see what it was?” I pressed. I had to see what caused her so much uneasiness and consternation.
“NO!” She screamed, flailing her legs up as she kicked at me. The hard rubber soles of her slippers impacted my shoulder as she scooted away to the opposite side of the couch. Tears began streaming down her reddening cheeks as she clutched her phone to her chest.
“Hey… hey… baby…” I soothed, “I just want to be able to comfort you… ok? But to do that… I need to see what you saw.”
“NO!” I jumped, this outburst more vociferous than the last.
“Look, you said it was an old photo, right?”
“Y… yeah.” She sniffled.
“Was it in black and white?” She nodded.
“Was it gross?”
“Yeah.” Her confidence and trust seemed to build with each of the simple questions.
“How did it make you feel, baby?”
“Not safe.”
I sat in silence for a moment, thinking I misheard. My heart fluttered; a sudden wave of dread washed over my being. What was going on? She had never acted like this before. Did I even want to see whatever it was if it bothered her so badly?
“Baby, I know you’re upset… but whatever you saw can’t hurt you, ok? It was on your phone, it’s not real.”
“I know.” She sucked a snot bubble back into her nostril as she loosened her muscles. A slight tinge of relaxation came over her as she scooted back over to me.
“I’ll show you.” She crossed her pajama-covered leg over my own as she opened her Tik-Tok and pulled up whatever had bothered her. She covered her eyes with her palm as she handed her phone over to me, the massive glitter case was slippery from her greasy hand lotion.
I stared at the image.
The photograph was black and white, dated late nineteenth-century. Depicted were two men, mustached cowboys that each held repeater rifles. A thick tree line stretched skywards in the background of the grainy photo. The two cowboys stood at either side of a massive wooden cart that resided in the middle of a muddy horse trail. Inside the cart, plopped down in a heap, was a gargantuan, shiny, black tarantula.
The hairy legs of the spider sprawled over the edges of the cart, the numerous beady eyes were dull and lifeless. Blood stains ran down the carcass, surely the result of gunfire.
The more I stared, the more I realized that this spider must’ve weighed thousands of pounds. Its proportions would’ve been better suited to an elephant or a whale as opposed to an arachnid. Then I saw the sign.
Resting on top of the tarantula’s body was a crudely constructed wooden sign…
Bessie.
It’s name. Or, at least, what the cowboys had named it.
The cowboy on the right was also holding a sign. The grainy image quality made the painted text hard to discern, but I eventually made it out.
Avert your eyes. She’ll find you.
A chill ran down my spine as I stared into the spider’s dead eyes. I looked back over to my girlfriend, who was curled up in the fetal position, her body nestled up to me. She gazed up at me, her eyes puffed up from the tears. She pointed back to her phone.
“L…” She whimpered, seemingly unable to speak.
“What?“ I leaned in, my ear touching her lips.
“Look.” I sat up, staring at her. Her lip quivered as I slowly turned my head back to the phone screen.
Bessie was gone. An empty cart.
The spider had disappeared.
Before I had time to process, I glanced over at the cowboy, the pose identical to when I had first seen him. In fact, the photo seemed unchanged aside from the missing tarantula.
The sign’s text, however, had changed.
You were warned, Jason.
My name… that’s my actual name! It knew my name!
“What the fuck?” I exhaled in shock, my eyes watering. Suddenly, a loud, guttural creak. I looked up, my eyes fixated down the dark hallway in front of me.
“What the fuck?” I repeated. The bony arms of my girlfriend wrapped themselves around me as she clutched me in a vice grip, her sobs hysterical.
She heard it too.
Upon this realization, my heart nearly stopped. It wasn’t.., it couldn’t… it couldn’t be! The air felt charged, a presence other than ourselves invading our collective consciousness.
A scurrying sound scratched against the floorboards as my girlfriend screamed. I was frozen in fear, absolutely petrified. My mouth ran dry as the darkness closed in. A sense of impending doom rattled my skull as I continued to stare down the pitch black hallway.
Ssssssssss.
A hissing sound emanated from the hall as the scurrying drew nearer. Then, a tip of a leg, a hairy leg, each individual strand of hair raised on end. The exoskeleton came fully into view as it crawled and climbed up the wall in sickening taps; the bends of its legs curved upwards and wrapped themselves over the ceiling.
Bessie.
It screeched as I saw the beady glow of its red eyes… eyes that seethed with rageful indignation. The glossy, five-foot long fangs dripped a gelatinous pink liquid that resembled pepto-bismol. My girlfriend’s blood-curdling shriek agitated the creature as a massive, sticky web shot out from its still hidden abdomen. The spider turned its massive orifice as my girlfriend’s legs became entangled. She clawed and grasped at the sofa as the arachnid pulled her towards its sword-like fangs.
I reached for her hand but came up empty as the screams pounded at my ears. A spray of crimson and a horrific, bone splitting crunch filled the room as I scrambled to my feet.
Bessie’s barbaric devouring reached a climax as its feast showered the walls in sheets of red. The spider’s high pitched wails and hisses intensified as it swallowed what was left of my girlfriend, my love, into its pulpy mouth. The slurping sounds roiled my stomach as I backed away, slowly making eye contact with the beast.
Bessie looked at me, and, after pondering a moment, lurched towards me in one explosive jerk. The walls cracked as I ran out of the front door and into the rain drenched street, my body flailing manically. The 9/11 call I placed was hysterical and full of inept blubbering. Eventually, the operator calmed me down enough to make sense of the nonsensical.
The police couldn’t understand the spider webbing, and, honestly, it was the only thing that ruled me out as a homicide suspect. The house was empty, which was fortunate since the foundation was “broken beyond repair.”
I was an inconsolable mess, the love of my life brutally slaughtered without any forethought or hesitation. Through the tears and panic attacks, I remembered something from earlier.
The sign.
I pulled out my phone, finding the tarantula photo once more. The cowboy has been replaced by a cowgirl. Her blonde hair flowed down her flannel shirt, her face unmistakable. The sign she held, however, echoed the same, predetermined fate.
You were warned, Jason.