Sorry for taking so long to update; I wanted to take some time off to let people start reading this story- and anticipating an update;) If you tuned; I want to take a moment to thank you. Especially the people that reviewed, favorited, and followed One Day More.

Reviewers: Scoochiexd and ILikeFanFiction. Thank you both for favoriting as well!

Hope you all are well!

WC: 2402

Have you ever experienced a moment in your life when something terribly wrong is about to happen; and all you can do is just sit there, suspended in time and unable to move. That's this moment right now.

The scream that escaped my lips was piercing; the kind that makes the screech of nails on a chalkboard sound like a lullaby. Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one to shriek as the charging mass of matted fur and sharp teeth came barreling down the aisle. So many people were on edge already; and I had just given off a spark in a powder keg. A woman, sitting with her husband shouted. And being closest to the snarling beast it was her hand that was ripped cleanly off as the wolfman sank his yellow fangs into her flesh. Mr. Tall appeared behind the beast and wrapped his arms around him, whispering something into his ear that caused the wolfman to relax. Mr. Tall lead him back on stage and into his cage. The two twisting sisters attempted to assuage the audience as best as they could. The woman's hand was pumping out dark red blood and she was screaming.

Mr. Tall picked up the severed hand and gave a loud whistle. Small men in blue hooded cloaks, with thick arms and legs, hurried over to Mr. Tall who had whispered something in the ear of the screaming woman that caused her to go silent and stiffen. Mr. Tall grabbed the lady's bleeding wrist and with his free hand produced a leather pouch from one of his many pockets, then sprinkled a sparkly pink powder on the woman's stub of a wrist. He attached the severed hand to the woman's arm and nodded to the men in blue cloaks, who took out needles and lots of orange string. Then to the astonishment of the audience they began sewing the hand back onto her arm!

After a while the little people in blue cloaks stopped sewing. And my stomach was anxiously rolling around; Steve's hand was rested firmly on my forearm comfortingly.

"Move your fingers." Mr. Tall said, she said nothing and stared at him. "Move your fingers!" he said again this time she wiggled them. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart finally started to slow down. The woman started shaking her hand as hard as she could. But everything seemed as good as new and her wrist was no longer bleeding.

"You will be ok," Mr. Tall told her. "The stitches will fall out in few days and you will be fine after that."

"That's not good enough! What if he had bitten her head off?" The man that had been sitting next to the woman was directly in front of Mr. Tall, his big face beet red.

"Then she would be dead," Mr. Tall was calm and collected. His straightened his red top hat and red gloves before addressing the man once more. "Tell me, sir, where were you when the wolfman attacked?"

"Well…. There was no time.. I couldn't…I wasn't…" the man stuttered around, trying to fine a fitting answer. But there was none: for he had been about to run away, and save himself.

"Listen to me," Mr. Tall said. " I gave everyone here fair warning. I said this show could be dangerous. This is not a nice, safe circus where nothing goes wrong. Mistakes can and do happen, and sometimes people end up a lot worse off than this young woman. That's why these shows have been outlawed. Things usually go on without any problems or people getting hurt, but safety is not something we can always guarantee."

Mr. Tall looked at the audience now and proclaimed loudly, " Now is your final chance to leave until the end of the show. These sorts of things happen, and no promises will be made to keep you safe. If you are afraid; please, leave now."

"Do you want to go?" My hands were clammy, and I felt wound up tighter than a box spring.

"No way! Things are just starting to get fun." Steve grinned wickedly. And I slowly nodded and smiled shakily. I could tell he was having a good time, and I didn't want to rain on his parade. A few people left, but most stayed, including the woman with the injured hand.

Dancing girls got on stage and performed while the men in blue cloaks walked around selling goods to the audience. Mr. Tall informed us that there would be more for sale at the end of the show, so I saved some of my money for then. Steve and I both bought rubber dolls of Alexander Ribs, clippings of the wolfmans hair ( it was thin, wiry and sharp). They also sold glass statues like the ones I'd seen Rhamus eat. I bought some candy while Steve asked how much the statues cost. The little cloaked man said nothing and continued on his way leaving a bewildered Steve in his wake.

"You think they're human?" He asked me as I attempted to fix my ponytail.

"Of course they are! Perhaps they're shy, and that's why they don't show their faces or talk." I shrugged. Steve became silently, absent-mindedly running his fingers over my hand. I cleared my throat loudly but he took no notice: his dark eyes were transfixed to the stage awaiting the show to restart. I pulled my hand away, scowling.

The next act was a man named Hans Hands. He told us about how his father was born without legs and had to learn how to get around on his hands. He had taught his children how to get around on their hands as well as any one could on their feet. Hans picked four men at random from the audience and promised a gold bar to anyone who could beat him in a race; they could remain on their feet and Hans would use his hands. The over confident men took up the offer, believing it would be easy to win. Using the aisles as a racetrack they took off at a sprint. Hans totally destroyed them, and I clapped excitedly when he won, wishing I could do something amazing like that! Hans did some gymnastics next; I was transfixed on his impressive skills. Too soon he was finished, and Mr. Tall was prepared to introduce the next act.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Crepsley and his amazing performing spider Madam Octa!"

A man, who was tall and thin with white skin and a crop of orange hair, appeared on stage holding a small wooden cage and dressed in dark red from head to toe. He had a long scar down the left side of his face, it reached his lips and it made his mouth look like it was stretched up the side of his face. He had started to make a speech but I wasn't paying any attention to him. I was looking curiously at Steve, who had been the only one in the audience to gasp loudly at the entrance of the man. He had gone ghost white, and was trembling all over.

"It is not true that all tarantulas are poisonous," Mr. Crepsley said. His voice was deep, and it caught my attention. I looked away from Steve and onto the stage. "Most are as harmless as the spiders you find anywhere in the world. And those which are poisonous normally only have enough poison in them to kill small animals.

"But some are deadly!" I flinched at his sudden seriousness. "Some can kill a man with one bite. They are rare, and only found in extremely remote areas, but they do exist.

I have one such spider," Mr. Crepsley said and opened the cage. My heart was picking up speed again for the few seconds when nothing happened. And I almost started hyperventilating when the biggest spider I had ever seen crawled out; it was green, red, and purple and it had long hairy legs and a huge fat body. I started breathing hard and shaking like a leaf. Now it was Steve that was looking at me strangely. The spider walked out and sat there waiting. He finally put two and two together and sat back with a big grin. I was absolutely terrified of spiders. They paralyzed me with fear, no matter the size of their creepy little bodies.

And this one was the size of a small purse dog.

"Madam Octa has been with me for several years, " Mr. Crepsley said. "She lives far longer than ordinary spiders. The monk that sold her to me said some of her kind live to be twenty, sometimes thirty years old. She is an incredible creature, both poisonous and intelligent."

All throughout the small introduction the strange orange haired man gave the blue hooded people lead a goat onto the stage. Mr. Crepsley produced a small tin flute from his pockets and played a few short notes. The spider swiftly jumped through the air and landed on the goat, which was bleating as he tried bucking the spider off. Madam Octa hung on and soon her fangs found the base of the goat's neck, and sunk in.

The goat become stiff and fell over, tears pricked my eyes when I thought it had dies, but worse still it was breathing! The poor goat….

"I have trained Madam Octa to not kill with the first bite. But should we leave the goat like this it would surely die," Mr. Crepsley blew the flute again and the spider bit the goat once more. The goat shook violently for a second then went stiff, it was finally dead.

I felt absolutely horrified of the arachnid's sharp fangs, and nearly fainted at the thought of her sinking her fangs into me!

A few people stood, clearly feeling the same discomfort as myself.

"Do not move!" Mr. Crepsly hissed. "Remember your earlier warning; a sudden noise could mean death." Madam Octa stood on two legs, and as Mr. Crepsley played a small tune she backed up still standing like that. Then she climbed back up the table.

"You will be safe now," Mr. Crepsley said as the people re-took their seats. "But please; do not make any loud noises, or else she may come after me!"

I couldn't really register anything outside the realm of my own fear. As the strange performer smiled it made him look all the more frightening. I didn't want to look like a wimp so I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. He had the spider crawl up his body; first perching on his head like a funny hat, then resting on his chin and spinning a web downward. The thought of those hairy legs all over my face made me shiver. I was nervously chewing my bottom lip as Madam Octa started swinging about level to his ears. As she swung upward once more Mr. Crepsley threw his head back and the threads of the spiders web snapped. She went sailing into the air and ended up in Mr. Crepsley's mouth.

I could feel myself turning green at the thought of her sliding down his throat. But when the man faced the audience once more, he showed how the intelligent spider had stuck her legs out at the right time; catching on his lips. Madam Octa started puffing in and out, like a balloon. Mr. Tall then appeared with a small flute, the same make as Mr. Crepsley's.

He played a fairly simple tune. And the spider began moving around the man's mouth. Getting over my initial shock I realized she was spinning a web. When she finished she lowered herself down and Mr. Crepsley did something I found profoundly revolting; he ate the spiders web.

I wanted to vomit right then and there, but my fear still had me in a chokehold. In my mind I was only mildly worried about the spider, but my body betrayed me and keep me focused on the arachnid as she awaiting her next command.

"Delicious. Fresh spider webs are a delicacy where I come from!" grinning gleefully at the audience, he retrieved his flute and started playing expertly once more. He made Madam Octa lift a tiny set of weights over her head; just like a human. Afterwards he set up a small dining table. Complete with silverware, plates, and even cups. She ate her dinner of flies and other insects in a neat and orderly fashion. I soon found myself unwinding and becoming slightly relaxed as time went one. I had come to the conclusion that Madam Octa was a truly marvelous creature.

I turned to tell Steve that maybe I was starting to get over my phobia, but he wouldn't respond when I called his name. Not until Mr. Crepsley had left the stage.

"This is awesome!" he said excitedly, rubbing his hands together. "This is so freaking awesome!"

"The spider? I agree, though I think I might be having nightmares for weeks now." I shivered.

"Not the spider, the man! Crepsley. Who needs to dream up monsters when there's one right in front of you? You don't know who he really is, do you?" Steve looked worried and looked around nervously for any signs of the strange orange haired man.

"Like you do." I snorted.

"I, in fact, do." He sneered. " Which is why I hope that he doesn't know I know. For both our sakes…"