"Wow, that is a lot of books!" Claimed the librarian. Nathaniel stood behind the massive stack of encyclopedias, research guides and even a children's book which was a guide to common garden spiders. He had been scouring the school library for an hour, looking up anything remotely related to arachnids and other eight-legged creatures.
"Uh, yeah. I'm doing a project on…spiders." He answered dishonestly. If only it was a school project, rather than a mission to see whether he would die from a spider bite or not.
"Well, have fun then." Chirped the librarian. She scanned all of his research materials and sent Nathaniel on his way.
He spent the next two hours pouring over the pile of books, trying to find the one spider that had bit him. He saw big spiders, small spiders, microscopic spiders, spiders that lived in water, spiders that ate fish. Spiders that could grow to the size of a CD. He felt a shiver travel down his spine. All these different spiders and none of them could be the one that had bitten him. He read the books, once, twice, three times. Nothing matched.
He slumped back in the uncomfortable library chair, putting his hands over his face. There was nothing. It was beyond frustrating. The library had been a bust. Should he go to the hospital? Maybe the spider wasn't even dangerous at all. It seemed like his brain had concocted a worried cocktail, swirling the fruit of doubt around in his mind. Nathaniel reached into his bag, pulling out a piece of paper and a mechanical pencil.
To whom it may concern, he began.
My name is Nathaniel Miller. I'm a high school senior who lives with my mom, in an apartment in the north part of Chinatown, in New York City. Today, I was bitten by a spider, left inside my backpack by my chemistry teacher. It sounds fake, but why else would I lie?
I'm probably going to end up dead. It sounds really horrible, and tragic. I'm terrified. If you find this, please tell my mom that I love her. Tell her to cremate me.
Sincerely,
Nathaniel.
He put the pen down, and sweat began to roll down from his forehead to his cheeks. What would he do? He couldn't go back to Professor Parker. Definitely, not. His life was over.
He picked up one of the spider books, his mind attempting to make him once again dig through its pages.
"This is absolutely useless." And he put the book down.
Or, rather, he tried to put the book down.
It was stuck.
How in the world was it stuck? He waved his hand around lightly, trying to see if maybe the bond between his skin and the cover would break. Nothing seemed to work.
"What the hell?" He put his other hand on the book, seeing if he could pull it free. However, the exact same scenario occurred. Now both of his hands were stuck to the opposite sides of the book. Was there some sort of glue on the book? It was fine before! There had to be a plausible explanation. However, no plausible ideas came to mind.
Spiders are primarily known for their abilities to stick to a variety of surfaces.
A passage from the book jumped into his mind. Spiders could obviously stick to surfaces. People, however, could not.
What if a person was bitten by a spider? Then could they? His jaw dropped open, his eyes widening in a feat of shock. The book dropped off of his hands.
Nathaniel got up, running to the library's closest bathroom. His stomach seemed to be doing flip-flops, a menagerie of gymnastics and somersaults. He needed to puke, to get everything out of his system. Could spiders puke? Humans could.
Nathaniel burst into the closest stall and kneeled over the porcelain throne. He tried to get it up, but nothing happened. Not even a trace of stomach bile. It felt pitiful, attempting to make himself sick.
Spiders are primarily known for their abilities to stick to a variety of surfaces.
He was definitely overthinking. If he tried to stick to the bathroom wall right now, it wouldn't work…right?
He pressed his hand against the grimy wall of the bathroom stall, attempting to press his skin to make a sticky bond. It didn't seem to work until he tried to pull away once more. It didn't work, his hand stuck just like it was to the book.
He pressed his other hand against the wall. It stuck too.
What was happening to him?