#7 The Needle

A list. Reviews. Constant traffic. A List. Reviews. Constant traffic”.

The spider repeated the phrase over and over as it stood there on the windowsill, an inch from Patrick’s inquisitive face.

“A list. Reviews. Constant traffic”.

“A LIST. REVIEWS. CONSTANT TRAFFIC!!!”

Each time it opened it’s mouth the words came out at an ever increasing and alarming rate.

Patrick could see the uneasiness in it’s face. It was as if the spider itself didn’t know what it was saying and wanted it to stop as well.

“A LIST!!!”

“REVIEWS!!!”

“CONSTANT TRAFFIC!!!!”

The spider was bellowing now, trying to catch it’s breath in between every convulsive blurt as the words spilled over the edges of it’s tongue, weaving and winding as they navigated around it’s jagged fangs and echoed out into the surrounding atmosphere.

A  L I S T !!!!!!

R E V I E W S !!!!!!

C O N S……

Patrick threw himself at the spider, knocking it clean from the windowsill before it had a chance to finish it’s phrase.

Is this the search engine spider from stories long past?

Patrick was pretty sure the spider was not venomous and needed help but he wasn’t taking any chances. He had heard tales of how certain species of Asian arachnids were able to lure their prey into a transit pose through the use of riddle and tongue before launching their eventual attack.

If this spider turned out to be one of those arachnids, Patrick wasn’t waiting around to witness it’s parry.

As the spider hit the tiled floor below, Patrick quickly looked from left to right as he tried to locate anything that could be used as a weapon.

The windowsill was completely bare save for a few clumps of dust and hair follicles as well as a small glistening speck in the corner directly under the window joining. He was about to revert his attention back to the spider when a thought darted through his mind.

“The glistening speck!”, he said out loud. “The glistening speck!!!”

In one sweeping motion Patrick turned and rolled in the direction of the light, trying to gain as much ground as possible before the spider had a chance to regain it’s composure. He reached the corner of the windowsill and rejoiced when he saw why the speck had been glistening so much.

It was a sewing needle.

Razor sharp and made from hardened metal, it was the best he could have hoped for in this moment of need.

He carefully picked it up by the blunted end and dragged it back to the edge of the windowsill where he had previously stood a few short moments before.

Taking a quick glance over the edge he saw that the spider still lay dazed and confused on the ground below, it’s legs splayed in every direction.

He took a deep breath, tensed his muscles and hoisted the needle high into the air above his head.

Placing the butted end on top of his shoulder, he carefully ran an outstretched hand along the edge of the needle, acting as a guided support as he prepared to deliver his finishing blow.

He breathed slowly, looked down towards the tiled floor and was just about to tip the needle downwards in a ferocious and deadly spiral when he noticed a strange marking on top of the spiders head.

He dropped the weapon suddenly and knelt to his knees in disbelief.

There, etched into the back of the spiders crown were two distinct markings.

A dot and a dash.

“Could it be?”, he thought to himself as he knelt atop the edge of the windowsill, mesmerised by what he was witnessing.

“Is this the search engine spider from stories long past?”

Before he had a chance to ponder that thought, I came crashing and skidding to his rescue. I had finally plucked up the courage from behind the couch and wanted answers fast.

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