I believe in conspiracies. I believe that when I kill the most scary spider on earth who is living on my front door, that spiders from all over the world communicate through an invisible network to plot against me.

When I encountered this dangerous pet, about twenty minutes ago, I was determined to squash it between the door and the frame. However the spider almost jumped out and I ran for my life. When I got back to the front door, there he was… Waiting for me.

He was sitting patiently, almost next to the key opening, like it was planned. I confronted my worst fears to put the key in, there was no one nearby to help me, and as I put the key in the spider tried to jump at me and I backed out as quick as I could. There the spider was, hanging from my keys. I was looking around me, trying to find a way to enter my house safely without being captured by the spider. I removed his thread from the keys with my foot and guided him towards the pavement. There, I ended his suffering. Or well, mine.

As I enter my house I am afraid of each little spider, of our spider pet’s brothers and sisters. That they might take their revenge on me and crawl on me while I sleep. Or jump on me while I sit at my desk as I type this. Or maybe that all the drowned spiders in the toilet will resurrect and form a really big spider in order to eat me.

Some people believe that from an evolutionary standpoint, we developed arachnophobia in order to survive. A survival technique; inherited by our great great great great grandfathers. My mom was never afraid of spiders; but I’d like to believe that my arachnophobia stems from evolution rather than just plain anxiety.

The monstrous pet was one and a half centimetre big. The spiders in New Zealand can grow up to seven. I wonder how I’ll survive.


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