I saw the spider’s shadow first. I was sitting in my car at the bank and the shadow was on the passenger seat. I stopped filling out the deposit slip and looked at the windshield. The spider was on the outside.
I had to move forward. The movement of the car made the spider skitter to the roof, out of sight. My heartbeat quickened. What were the odds that the spider would be at my window when I opened it? I reminded myself to breath and that the odds were in my favor. The spider would have to come toward my window just as I opened it. Everything was going to be fine. I considered not depositing my check.
I am being silly. I rolled down my window, grabbed the tube, and rolled the window up again. I breathed again and checked the other windows. Where was that spider?
I finished most of the transaction and had to reach out the window one last time. The golfball-sized spider came in. I stabbed at the spider with my pen and it fell. On me. There was a great deal of screaming.
I pulled the car to the side (having the presence of mind to get out of the way of the car behind me, but not the presence of mind to stop screaming. I tumbled out the car and ran several feet, leaving the car door open. I hit my hair, my sides, my arms, screaming and jumping up and down.
A woman came running across the parking lot. “Are you okay?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
I wiped away tears. “There was a spider…”
“Oh.” She looked around. “Okay.” A stiff smile on her face she backed away.
After considering calling my dad to come get me, I found the spider on the floor mat dead.
Why does putting our work out into the world cause so much panic? What is the reason for the sick twisting the stomach? Our lives will not stop because someone reads our work. They are just words on the page. Right?
Why do you think some of us are terrified to show our work? What could the most dreadful thing that could happen? What do we think will be revealed that will crash our universe? What is wrong with us?