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Something was pulling the salesman back to Finn’s house, despite it being too early for a spider to be collected. There was some pull that told him something was wrong, and he needed to be there.
He knocked on the door lightly, so as not to startle anyone. In theory, the spider had just worked early this time, so no one should be there to answer his call. Immediately after the salesman had that thought, the door to Finn’s home opened, with Finn there ready to greet him.
“Finn!” the salesman grinned. “How are you feeling, my boy?”
Finn smiled and opened the door wider to welcome the salesman inside.
“You won’t believe what happened!” Finn exclaimed, a broad smile on his face. “I cried out a spider and now it’s gotten huge! Check it out!” He didn’t wait for the salesman but rather ran towards the kitchenette off of the dining area.
The salesman did all he could to hold back his anger and frustration; this little twat had ruined a good spider. Now he would have to wait for the perfect opportunity for another victim and lose out on a collection chance.
Alas, there on the counter lay a beautiful beast, unlike the salesman had ever seen before. The size of a baseball and completely white in color, a fuzzy, fat, spider sat on the counter, contented to stare at its surroundings. Its large, green eyes almost had bioluminescence to them, its abdomen was fat, its legs were short, and it looked more like a white tarantula than a spider. At the ends of each of its stubby legs lie two appendages, gripping appendages like that of chameleon hands. All in all, it was a giant version of what the salesman had seen under the scope, and all that was missing was the nest to collect.
“My, she truly has grown. You say you cried her out?”
Finn leaned up against the counter with his arms folded, a smile on his face, like a proud six-year-old showing an adult some feat they had accomplished.
“Yup, didn’t hurt one bit. Had a really crazy dream, with you in it, believe it or not, and then I woke up crying. She came out of a teardrop; you don’t think there are more in my head, do you?”
That’s not how it worked. One spider to rule them all, so to speak. Once that drop hit your eye, it was like a sperm load heading to the egg: whichever spider hit that sweet spot behind the eye first, won, while the rest usually died in the cornea. On very rare occasions a second spider will settle in the other eye, but it was with the rarity of having a twin birth.
“No, son, it doesn’t really work that way, and I’m surprised she grew this big.”
“Son.” Finn closed his eyes and chuckled, while the salesman focused on the magnificent creature that did nothing but stare back at him.
“You say you dreamt of me?” the salesman asked without looking away from the spider. He reached out his hand to caress one of the white, fuzzy legs. The spider reluctantly allowed it, flinching away at first.
“That I did. Well, rather,” Finn looked at the crouching salesman, “I dreamt of my father that left when I was a boy.” At this remark, the salesman rested his hand on the counter in front of the spider and paused to face Finn.
“Your father you say?” the salesman asked innocently.
“Yes, and the spider as well. The spider gave me some interesting memories.”
The salesman moved to stand but before he lifted his hand from the counter, the spider took the opportunity to take a bite. From below its green eyes and white fur, came a set of thick, white fangs with dark purple tips. When it struck the salesman’s hand and drew blood, it also released a dark purple liquid from ts fangs into the salesman’s bloodstream.
“Fucker!” the salesman shouted. He held his hand tight, squeezing the area where the spider had bit him.
“Yes, she does give quite the sting, doesn’t she? Just wait till you real back in pain from the memories, your memories, apparently.”
The salesman looked up from his wounded hand to face Finn in the eyes.
“What did you say?” The salesman felt his stomach growl and his insides squirm; it felt like something was inside his intestines, moving around at will.
“You heard me,” Finn replied, a smirk on his face. “This spider’s worst memory is of you, killing him.” The salesman stared at Finn in disbelief.
“That’s not possible,” he scoffed. “I haven’t killed anyone.”
“Actually,” Finn raised a finger, “yes, apparently you have: the previous spider salesman.”
From beneath the salesman’s skin, he felt the running patter of an army of ants just below the surface. He began stretching desperately at his skin, clawing out chunks of flesh with his skinny fingers. The skin that remained undamaged began to turn white, and the salesman felt his abdomen bend forward in half.
“I guess that’s the salesman’s true gift to a lucky few; I get to hold the secret to eternal youth now.” Finn walked up towards the salesman, the salesman realizing that he was shrinking in the process.
“Apparently, I have to keep your seed alive or I lose this gift,” Finn grabbed an empty jar from the counter behind him. “But at least I don’t have to keep you alive.”
The salesman felt the pull of muscles from both sides of his hips; it felt like being punched on the inside. His skin began to stretch, something was trying to break through. The salesman screamed as he shrunk, his abdomen melding into a rounded form. From his sides sprouted white spider appendages, painfully tearing through his skin, like giving birth to six sets of arms on his sides. These new arms were raw, and the slightest breeze against them felt like a thousand pins and needles poking at his skin over and over. He soon lost the ability to scream, his nose melting off of his face to be replaced by multiple sets of eyes, forcing their way up from under his sensitive skin. He still had his one set of normal arms, although they were covered in white fur. He could feel a dozen more eyes underneath his forehead, under his current set of eyes, and some near his ears; they were just underneath the swollen, pink skin, ready to pop and spew whatever liquid may come forth.
When he went to scratch at his face to free the eyes underneath his skin, all of his appendages scratched at his face, not just the normal set of arms. He couldn’t scream anymore, his mouth was gone. Underneath his chin lay a gaping maw, ready with sets of white fangs to bite into anything. His arms (and new legs) attacked his face violently, leaving nothing behind but dozens of green eyes where skin used to be; there was no face, only eyes. There was nothing left of the salesman but a bloodied spider, sensitive to any gust of wind against all its open wounds.
“Now it’s my turn, father,” Finn said. He lifted the spider salesman into a jar and closed the lid.
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Heavy curtains were drawn, making an already dark room seem impossibly darker. The salesman didn’t bother knocking, rather, he slowly opened the squeaking door with one long arm. The familiar stench of death wafted through the salesman’s nostrils, making him grin. His mouth had been cleaned up quite nicely since his last dose, but somehow that classic, distrustful salesman’s smile came through.
Nothing had changed since the salesman’s last visit here, except for maybe the body. The room was still in a state of distress, the room fan was on, and the tv was on. On the couch lie the salesman’s ripened fruit: the body of the poor soul that bought a Russian Tweezer just a few months earlier. It was administered the same way all of the spiders are, and it was harvested, like this, every time.
The victim had his head resting on his shoulder but he was looking upwards, towards the sky; it was a most unnatural position. One eye had been cleaned out and in its place lie an adult Russian Tweezer resting on a pile of eggs. The females have the unique capability of holding donor sperm until a time as they desire to fertilize their eggs, such as when they reach maturity.
The female had chosen her time and had come crawling out from behind a sack that had developed behind the victim’s eye. The damage done to the brain during this experience kills the user but allows the female to lay her eggs in an ideal location: an eye socket.
“Perfect,” the salesman whispered. He coaxed the angry mother spider into a large, glass jar; the egg nest he gently scooped up into a separate jar, careful not to damage any angle of the nest so that every egg inside was safe.
The victim was left with his head unnaturally twisted up towards the sky, with one eye missing, and a cleaned-out eye socket. The eyelids remained intact, but if you looked down from a certain angle, you could see the pink and purple mash of scrambled brain matter through the white sheen of bone. It was a clean sweep once the salesman was finished. He chuckled to himself, donned his hat, and tiptoed out the door.
“I bet this will be a delicious meal,” the salesman mumbled. He brought the glass jar of the mama spider up to his face to eye her in greater detail. “My, my, yes, you are a beautiful, red specimen; I’m sure you will deliver a bloody mess.”
Back in his caravan, he gently placed the nest into a large enclosure.
“I’ll be back for some of you later.” After ensuring the nest’s comfort, he emptied the red spider into the square glass compartment intended for “collecting”. Like with the spider before her, he brought the walls in close so that she was trapped between the glass for his viewing pleasure. Bringing his head down close to the jar so that he could face her one on one, he cranked the handle, ending her life between two glass panes.
He collected her dew, administered some to himself, and sat back into his seat. The flashes came on strong; she must have recently killed him and laid her nest.
The first image was that of a young man staring at himself in the mirror, angry and unkempt. The salesman was seeing the vision through the eyes of this man, the same man he had just harvested the spider from moments ago.
The next moment, the man was walking to a nightclub with no weapons, but certainly filled with rage and the intent to harm. The salesman had no control over the body as he watched “himself” wait in line, pass through the doors, move amongst the crowd, heading straight for the back doors with intention. The salesman didn’t know where this was heading, but this person’s worst memory held the basis of rage and anger, which usually ended with an orgasmic high for the user.
The flashes progressed to that of the salesman watching this man push his way through a crowd of well-dressed people. He wasn’t dressed for this occasion, noting his dirty and torn office suit he wore slacked over his thin frame.
There were white, black, and gold balloons everywhere, and he must have just missed some grand reveal since the floor was as scattered as the ceiling was with balloons; some must have had helium. The salesman’s character didn’t seem bothered by them or just didn’t notice the balloons as he kicked his way through dozens to the back of the large ballroom. He pushed his way through metal bar doors to the back alley where people were smoking and chatting, ironically wearing high-end clothing while they stood on damp concrete next to garbage bins. Like in the ballroom, the people here stared with disapproving eyes as the salesman bullied his way to the back of the alley where a man stood talking with three women.
He wore a lavender suit, had thick, wavy, blonde hair, and a smile that could light the alley with its brightness. His back was turned to the salesman, who had grabbed a crowbar that was propped up against the nearest trash bin. The salesman watched behind his character’s eyes with excitement that penetrated the flesh; he could feel the rage and adrenaline that this man felt. Although he didn’t know why he was angry at this man, it didn’t matter. Whatever this man had done to the salesman’s character was enough to drive this man to outright murder him, and that’s what he did.
The salesman watched with overflowing excitement as his character smacked the man behind the knees with the makeshift weapon. It brought him down to a kneeling position, where he cried out and turned to face his attacker. The man must have known his attacker as the look on his face was priceless: it was the look of prey staring up at a predator, and it was the look of “oh shit, I’m fucked.”
The weapon came down on the back of the man’s neck, bringing him down to the floor where the salesman brought the bar down over the man’s head. The first time he hit him, his head bounced back, like a ball. The salesman’s weak frame of character had to bring all his strength down to crack the man’s skull. Blood came from the impact wound in addition to leaking from multiple orifices, and screams of women and men alike were faintly heard in the background. The cracking of the man’s skull against the wood and the pavement somehow outweighed their screams, although he did catch a glimpse of “Someone call 911!” among the screams.
The salesman could taste the familiar taste of iron-rich blood on his mouth, and he realized his character was smiling while he pounded the metal bar down on the man’s skull over and over until he was just hitting the pavement. The sounds of the metal bar reverberating off of the pavement and of the heavy breathing from his character were the last things the salesman heard before coming out of his high.
Part VI: https://night-write.com/2022/07/11/the-spider-salesman-part-vi-vi/
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https://www.creativeuncut.com/gallery-42/di-hydra.html Hydra interpretation
You gotta love a great horror interpretation on a hydra , a beast with multiple heads. Found this beauty on pinterest – feel free to follow me there.
pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/MutilatedMoth/
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Scrounging up ideas for the future; blog to include monster artwork and more scares.
Artwork of Beasts for Beasts
I look forward to posting my own monster creations as well as share guest posts of monsters as well. I find amazing artwork of strange creatures here and there, so I can add that.
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/ZG4zyR Other scares to include…
I think I’ll continue to post all things monster-related, from “Top Ten” posts to poems and art. Most of this will still be of my own design, but I look forward to collaborating with others as well.
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Finn rarely dreamt of his father anymore. All he could see in his mind’s eye was a dark figure walking away. That figure soon turned around to face him, but there was no face there. His father’s image was a man in a trenchcoat with a hat that hid his face. He couldn’t remember anymore if that’s what he looked like when he last saw his father, but it was what his mind created to hold his place.
The faceless father figure was soon retching on the ground, dry-heaving nothing in particular. From the wing muscles came legs, spider legs, right out of his father’s back. There were eight, thick spider appendages sprouting out his back; heavy, they kept him on all fours. From where a mouth should have been, lay a set of fangs. From that gaping hole came a screeching that pierced through Finn’s mind, running a pounding headache throughout it.
“Stop!” Finn screamed through the screeching, which did not stop.
The man-spider did not stop screaming for what felt like an eternity. When the screaming ceased, the puking began. Instead of vomit, up came a sea of small spiders, alive and wriggling over one another. The spider-thing that was once his father’s image began to shriek again, this time with tears streaming down its one dozen eyes and growing, popping up from under its skin like pimples popping a hard white stud out from its hole.
The growing sea of spiders started making their way towards Finn, his father reaching out with one spider appendage as a cry for help. There was nothing to be done to stop the flow of spiders coming from his spider-father’s mouth; he wished he could end his father’s misery, but knowing there was nothing to do, Finn turned to run.
His unconscious made him run in circles from old rooms in his childhood home to areas at his workplace, but he couldn’t escape his screaming dad spider and the waves of mini spiders that followed.
Finn kept running but looked back to see the spider-thing screeching in weird notes, clearly in pain. The flow of the spiders from its mouth became fierce and soon its stomach extended from within. From its eyes, large spiders burst through, gnawing on the edges of the eye sockets. Its stomach stretched until the thin strands of muscle holding the skin together began to tear. Mounds of tiny spiders ranging in size and color came spewing forth from within the spider-thing, while the rest of it began to melt away. The shelf of the spider-thing dissolved into nothing quickly once it started, leaving only its sea of spiders behind.
Finn turned to run but felt weird walking. Looking down at his legs, he was horrified to see one set of spider legs where his pair of human legs should be, and the hairs on his arms thickened before slowly turning into the rough skin of spider appendages. He tried to scream but nothing came out; somehow the feeling of screaming without being accompanied by a scream was the more terrifying aspect of his situation. The muscles around his vocal cords hurt, but still, not a sound.
Flashes of someone’s memories came flooding into his mind’s eyes, even behind closed eyes. Soon everything went black and Finn was left to sleep it off.
Part V: https://night-write.com/2022/07/10/the-spider-salesman-part-v-vi/
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The salesman kept giggling to himself once alone in the caravan. He only paused once his horses whinnied back at him, responding to his laughter.
“Oh, you hush up there; I’ll be back shortly to bring us home.” The salesman turned back to face his shelves. “Now let’s see what’s on the menu tonight.” A dark red bottle caught his eye, the color of blood but with what appeared to be glitter. “Ah,” the salesman smiled. “I remember making this one. What a rare gem indeed! How have you come along?”
The salesman administered a droplet of the bottle’s contents onto a slide and slid it under the scope. The red fluid was hot pink through the eyes of the scope, and the glittering gold flecks seen throughout the fluid were in fact clusters of spiders strung together, their legs intertwined into a relatively large mass. Each spider had big black eyes, tiny abdomens, and very long, slender legs. It didn’t appear to be an aggressive species, as they were without visual fangs.
“My, my, your colonies have certainly grown since I last saw you.” The salesman used an eye dropper to extract more from the bottle and administer a few drops to himself. He took a deep breath and exhaled a light red fog from his nostrils.
“Ah, yes. Aged like a fine red wine. The memory may be gone, but the effects are still oh so strong.” The salesman’s sagging, droopy eyes began to take on a firmer, more youthful appearance. He turned to face a tiny, circular mirror hanging from a hook nailed into the frame of a shelf. He grinned wide, baring his teeth, but his smile shrank to nothing once his thin lips retreated, embarrassed. “Maybe it’s time to break out a big one.”
The salesman grinned again, this time eyeing the various spiders on the bottom-most shelves and the floor tanks. In the center of the right shelf on the very bottom lay a bright red beast with a bulbous abdomen, and it adorned ten black legs and two sets of fangs. The salesman took a hand magnifying glass and eyed the spider-like beast eyeing its supper. He practically licked his thin, purple lips; his tongue was certainly dancing behind his black teeth.
“A fresh one. I think it’s time to harvest a fresh one,” he said to himself. “Come here, beautiful.” He reached into the tank, laying his hand flat. The spider took its time inspecting this new visitor but did as it was alluded to do and it walked onto his hand. He lifted her and brought her to the table with an arm mechanism. Setting her into a square, glass container, he closed the lid and kissed the top. On the side of the table was a crank that wasn’t easily noticed. The salesman turned the crank, causing two parallel sides of the glass container to move inward towards one another, ready to squish the spider within.
The salesman kept the grin on his face all the while cranking the handle, watching the spider panic. The glass walls grew closer while the spider tried to find a way out. As the glass touched both sides of the spider, holding it in place, the salesman stopped. He took his magnifying glass in one and adjusted himself to see the spider. She twitched and her legs were moving frantically, but she could not escape. With his free hand, the salesman turned the hand crank and watched the spider meet her pressurized death.
Ensuring the glass was truly kissing, he move the crank forward a few times for luck, hitting a halt with each attempted turn. The juices from the spider dripped down into a pan hidden within the desk; it collected the juices into a bottle no larger than a silver dollar. It was a black fluid with yellow globs floating throughout it; it reminded the salesman of a miniature lava lamp. Once the fluid had been collected, the salesman cleaned the glass container and helped himself to one drop from his newly collected bottle.
The moment the drop hit his eye, a wave of pressure was sent through the salesman’s body. It felt like gravity had taken form and was able to travel throughout his body in one big wave from his head to his toes. For a moment, his eye burned, making him wince in pain, but then the memory came.
In one flash, he was a suburban mom feeding children. He saw himself kiss the head of a child, but then he felt himself fill with anger and resentment. The next flash was another child he was feeding, this was the source of the rage. The freckled child smiled, the salesman as the woman smiled back, but it was forced.
The salesman rubbed his eye, as the memory was very strong. The next flash hit him with the pain of an oncoming migraine. He was still the woman and he was making batter and mixing in white contents from a bright yellow bottle with black lettering and a red warning label on the side. The next flash showed cupcakes in the oven. Then the salesman was at the neighbor’s door, handing the cupcakes to the freckled child from earlier.
The next flash is of the salesman preparing lemonade and putting the same substance into one of the four glasses he had prepared. The tainted glass went to the same freckled child as before, although this time he was nearly twenty pounds thinner and he was much paler. Then a tirade of flashes flew by the salesman’s vision, showing this woman causing a child’s sickness time and time again and through various methods; her favorite was that of drink delivery because the sugary drinks seemed to hide the toxin well. There was even a flash of the salesman with his hand over his mouth trying to hide a smile when the freckled child vomited at a pool party; he had to leave the area because he couldn’t contain himself.
Flash after flash flew by until he reached a funeral that felt more like a celebration where you couldn’t show how happy you were on the inside. This was a woman’s darkest secret, a secret that brought her to meet the salesman and eventually to a point where she met her untimely death.
The salesman had his arms and legs sprawled out on all sides as he came to while sitting on the stool. The poorly lit caravan was a good way to come back down to reality: slowly and calmly without too much external stimulus. He widened his eyes and blinked a few times to stretch the muscles there. Looking down at his hand, he saw his liver spots begin to fade. The loose skin that once covered a skeleton of a man had fattened up and gained a pink hue. The hairy moles on his arms disappeared, and his once blackened gums filled with new, pink tissue to showcase a set of pearly whites. His once stringy hair gained volume, curls even, and his sunken eyes came forward from their hidden crevices that were his eye sockets.
He was age-regressing, becoming younger. The only things that didn’t change were the salesman’s soul and his cackle, one that his horses would never become accustomed to.
Part IV: https://night-write.com/2022/06/26/the-spider-salesman-part-iv-vi/
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“I can get you three Hookwink spiders for $150 or two Vietnamese Wrattlers for just $99! All you do is let them in, they feast on your negative thoughts, and you get to live a stress-free life! Just picture it!” The salesman waved his hand high into the air above the sun, his long fingers casting stick figure shadows on the driveway pavement. He curled the other boney, stick fingers on his right hand around the man’s shoulder, as though he were a long-time friend.
“Anytime you have a bad time, you forget it! Or at the very least, the spiders pick away at the thought until it goes away from your conscious thinking. Consider it a symbiotic relationship. What’s your name, young man?”
“Finn, but uh, does it hurt?”
“Not at all, Finn, my friend, not at all. You won’t feel a thing!”
“And what’s a symbi-whatever?”
“A symbiotic relationship is when two species of plant and/or animal co-exist and benefit the other species. For example, these tiny spiders get to live in your brain and feast on negative thoughts and emotions while you get to live a much happier life! You both benefit from living together, you see?”
Finn wasn’t a year over thirty but suffered from depression for most of his life. He was getting to the point where he just wanted to lie in bed and sleep all day, and waking up was a chore. Nothing made him happy, there was nothing to look forward to in his life, and he was beginning to question what the point of it all was in being alive. At this point, he was literally willing to try anything.
“So how does it work?” Finn asked flatly.
“Glad you asked, my boy! Would you like to see them? The tiny friends that you use with an eye dropper are best seen through my eye scope. Would you like to come to my caravan to see them? You can take your time choosing your new best friend. I’ll tell you about them all if you would like!”
Finn glanced over the tall skeleton man’s shoulder to see an old gypsy-type wagon drawn by two black, large horses; they looked like a pair of Clydesdales with long manes, and they were pretty much as large as the wagon they pulled.
The sun was setting and there were no birds singing or crickets chirping; there wasn’t even a hint of wind. The air was still and the neighborhood was silent, lonely.
“We can chat for as long or as little as you would like, my friend! Come, come! I insist you see my beauties I am so proud of raising!” The spider salesman’s lanky legs hopped a bit as he crab-walked sideways towards his dilapidated caravan that held wonders too interesting and curious to pass down.
“Yeah, ok. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to at least look at them.”
“That’s the spirit, I knew you would be a smart cookie!” The salesman practically skipped to the back of the wagon, pulling down a set of stairs that led to a locked door.
“Beyond this door,” the salesman pulled a key from a necklace hidden under his shirt, lies the key to end your suffering. You just have to choose.” He gently slid the tip of the key into the lock until the head was halfway through, then he forced the key the rest of the way in before turning the knob.
The inside of the caravan was dimly lit, with small, fake tea-light candles strung together as the only source of light. On the left and right walls were tightly fitted shelves that all held small glass jars with strange mesh/cork combination tops. The jars were different colors and some were larger and more plentiful than others. There were nametags below each section of jars and it was clear which were the popular ones based on the volume available and rack space dedicated to them. The Forest Fonts Spider seemed to be a popular choice, with a bright purple bottle that almost twinkled with neon light at certain angles. On the floor and bottom-most shelf were the larger specimens, some the size of quarters, housed in vivariums. They ranged in colors from mostly shades of black to otheres with more radiant colors and hues.
“Feel free to start anywhere but I strongly recommend the Sapling Tappers or the Brooder Stems; both are related species that focus heavily on childhood nightmares and removing childish-based fears and emotions. Lots of my clients have been able to repel some nasty inner demons with those babies.” The salesman’s thin fingertips pointed towards the top shelf on the right-hand side where Finn could see a series of white bottles and a set of very baby blue bottles sitting together.
To the right of them was a very dark shade of blue bottles that caught Finn’s eye. The tag below said Crocodile Tears.
“Ah, so you’re drawn to the darker shades of life? My, my, I wonder what happened to you,” the salesman said casually as he took a seat on his low stool in the center of the carriage. He spun around to face the back wall and rummaged through a small desk; the driver and one passenger could sit on the other side of this wall.
When he spun back around, he brought a tabletop with him that moved on a mechanical arm to sit between the salesman and Finn. Upon the table lie a unique microscope with a steampunk-like look to it; it looked to Finn to be very old.
The salesman didn’t need to stand up to reach the top shelf and grab one of the dark bottles Fin had been eyeing. He took a syringe, extracted a bit of the dark fluid, and placed a drop onto a microscope slide before slipping it under the scope and turning on its power. The microscope had two sets of eye lenses, one for the salesman and one for the customer. When the microscope powered on, a small light came up from below the scope somewhere.
“Have a look while I find us some friends,” the salesman said as he began to make adjustments with the knobs on the microscope. Finn looked around from left to right around the outside of the cabin of the caravan, trying to find some sign of life other than himself. With no one to catch eye contact with to say, “I saw him here with this man!”, Finn decided there was no point in worrying about whatever may come. Might as well take a chance at happiness, no matter what weird form it showed itself.
He squinted his eyes near the scope but wasn’t truly touching the eyepiece.
“Come closer, boy, come closer! They can’t jump out and bite you, lad! These little pets are your friends, and these are a unique set you have chosen, I must say!”
Taking a deep breath, Finn moved forward and hunched slightly to get his eyes to adjust to the scope. Beneath the lens lie a world unlike any other. The medium in which the spiders were suspended was similar to that of spaghetti noodles in a translucent, dark blue soup. The spindles that intertwined housed thousands of tiny spiders that Finn didn’t notice until the salesman increased the magnification. The tiny moments of light that Finn had seen through the tube were the spiders themselves, as they were a beautiful shade of light blue and they let off light blue bioluminescence; they shimmered among the dark blue suspension fluid, like stars twinkling in the night sky.
“These fellas pick up mommy and daddy issues as well as your own personal biggest fears. Some people have a tough time adjusting to them at first because the lifestyle change becomes something so different than the life they once led, it’s too sharp of a change.”
The salesman leaned back from the scope to address Finn directly. “I think you would be able to handle these little guys without a problem. I’m not sure what kind of demons you fight, but if they are some deep ones that you don’t understand, these guys will open your eyes.” The salesman finished with a giggle.
“I would recommend three drops for you, which runs $150, but I can give you this one-time deal of $99 if you would like!”
Finn paused and looked down at the glass slide that held the drop of thought-eating spiders. “How long do they live?”
The salesman closed his eyes, smiled, and stretched his back.
“They are guaranteed for life, no issues, ever.”
Finn looked side to side again, noticing the larger specimens.
“What’s with the bigger ones? Will these spiders get that big?”
“Oh, no, no. Those specimens are meant for removing actual sickness. The infants are administered to a patient, and as adult, they are removed from your brain surgically once their job is complete; you wouldn’t qualify for one of those.”
“I’m not sad about that, sir.”
The salesman smiled wide, revealing a row of dirty teeth sitting in rotting gum beds.
Ready to proceed with the purchase, Finn took a deep breath. Glancing downward, something caught his eye on the floor of the last shelf, in the very back of the cab. It had a faint purple glow and it was tiny; the small bottle was hidden amongst a horde of larger bottles, but the light glow it emitted gave away its location.
“What about that one?” he asked, pointing to the glow.
The salesman followed Finn’s finger, squinting into the darkness of the tiny room.
“Which one is that, my boy?”
“The one with the purple glow.”
“There is no purple glow, boy.”
Frustrated, Finn crawled under the table, to the side of the salesman’s thigh, and reached in the corner for the glowing bottle. Going in blind, he cocked his head sideways to get a better reach. He knew he touched the right bottle when he felt a frosted surface over it..
He pulled his arm out to reveal the small bottle with glowing purple fluid.
“I still don’t see how you consider that a glow, but I suppose it’s purple.”
Before Finn could object to the glow, the salesman yanked the bottle from him and was already placing a drop under the scope. He moved the knobs back and forth, and only after adjusting the light so that very little light was present could he see the spiders within.
“There you are, you… things,” the salesman whispered to no one in particular.
Finn helped himself to the other end of the scope to see some unique-looking spiders suspended in purple, metallic-like fluid. It was primarily a purple sheen, but with certain movements of the spiders within, the fluid seemed to change to a rainbow formation briefly before returning to its purple hue. The spiders themselves were completely white, fuzzy, and had bright green eyes; they were almost cute in a way.
“And what are these spiders? How much are they?”
The salesman continued to stare into the scope.
“Um, well,” he adjusted the knobs. “I don’t recall having this species… It’s hard to say exactly what they might be best for, treatment-wise.” Finn continued to stare down the scope while the salesman gently scrolled through a unique landscape full of microscopic spiders.
“Purple is often the catch-all color, meaning anyone would be fine with purple, but the thing is, the color changes under the scope, so I can’t say that these guys wouldn’t take on the properties of another color. Besides, I don’t have any white spiders; these are unique.”
He leaned back from the scope with a cocky smile. “But I suppose I could sell you a few drops for say, $75? We’ll call them Beginners Luck.” The wide grin returned, dirty teeth and bad breath not far behind.
Something drew Finn to these spiders. There was a pull about them, as though he was already familiar with them somehow. He knew one thing for sure: he didn’t want to walk away from this caravan without them. He could see them glowing, no matter what the scrawny man said.
“How about five drops for $100?”
The salesman lost his grin for a moment, then burst into laughter. “A littler bargainer, aren’t you? Ok. five drops for $100!”
The salesman pulled out a clean eye dropper, sucked up a full vial full, and said, “Lean your head back please.”
Finn did as he was told but closed his eyes. The salesman giggled.
“Sorry, son; you’ll need to look at me. Open your eyes wide and look to the bottle on the far right of the cabin here; it will be far easier to administer to your eye this way.”
Finn did as he was told and soon felt the icey breath of the drops into his eye. It didn’t hurt, it almost felt refreshing, like a mint for your eyes. Finn rubbed his eye a bit before the salesman could stop him. “Ah, ah, ah, ah, careful there. Let the juices in to do their work.”
The sun was almost set. No one else had seen Finn in a strange man’s caravan. No one was there to witness his new beginning. The salesman gave him instructions not to wash out his eyes or add any drops to them for a two days, then he patted the lad on the head, and closed up shop. No one was there to see the exchange of money or to watch the salesman take off his top hat and bow before his customer. No one saw the spiders for sale, or watched the salesman drive away with his beautiful black steads. No one was there to see Finn collapse just inside his doorway.
Part III: https://night-write.com/2022/06/25/the-spider-salesman-part-iii-vi/
