‘Nurse, Nurse!’ There’s a spider - over there!’ Dave had been pressing the red button for, oh it seemed like several minutes. In the corner of his room he had spotted the web shimmering in a draft perhaps, or was some luckless housefly caught amongst its sticky threads now frantically trying to escape? Dave watched as a furtive black blob moved across from the web's corner. He imagined the spider - one long, thin, black, hairy leg feeling for vibrations, then waving it, as if sniffing the air, or jeering at the pinioned creature’s fear, before deciding to sidle over those thin, sticky strands which had oozed from its own bulging abdomen, for the kill. He shivered. Memories jumped into his head of gluey strands catching across his face in the dark cellars of his boyhood. And that recurring dream of the hairy black torso quivering on long probing legs whilst sidling, oh so slowly, over his own sleeping face, then, reaching the edge of his open mouth it would appear to hesitate and ... Oh! Oh!

At last the creaky-soled nurse arrived. ‘I can’t get it myself,' he said 'They told me to stay in bed and I’ve a phobia of spi…. arachnids … arachnophobia.’ He was quite proud to use the technical term in front of a medical professional.

Oh, don’t be tho thilly, Dave - nothing to be fwightened of. It’th only an Eratigena Atria, just an ordinary spider. Totally harmless … to you.’ She went to the spidery corner. ‘And you like it here don’t you, little one? You sort out those wretched flies. And look, Dave, look at what she's caught.

Dave looked - little white cases, waving, waving in the breath of the lisping nurse. Dave shuddered.  

‘We won’t hurt you, little one. Enjoy your scwummy meal.’

Dave breathed in deeply. Breath in. Control. Breath out.




He thought back to this morning.

‘You’re lucky,’ the voice on the phone had said. ‘We're linked with Redips, the new private clinic. They’ll have you right away.’

“Gosh,’ Dave said, ‘I wasn’t expecting that, so soon, not on the NHS, not for a hernia operation. I erm …’

‘Don’t you worry, darling. Sooner it’s over with ... So, shall I book you in?’

‘OK then. Is it an overnighter? I mean, shall I bring my PJ’s?’

‘No need, love. You’re provided for. Mind you, the gown they give you may feel a bit drafty on your youknowwhats.’



He’d be out tomorrow. Apart from the lurking house spider Dave had to admit this was … luxury. A large room all to himself. A bit of alright, all right. He started to flick through the tele channels. But he was interrupted.

‘Dave. Good afternoon Dave. I’m the consultant for your … operation. Now, let’s take a look. Up with your bed gown.’

Dave gazed up at the surgeon’s very attractive face. Her mouth opened slightly. She licked her bright red lips. And, oh, what beautiful eyes! She touched Dave’s hand. So softly. So delicately.

Dave saw the consultant’s green surgical gown balloon as she slipped it up over her shoulders. She turned away from him. Her black hair shimmered. Her hair - could it really be that long?  But on her back. Hair was covering her back! Then came a slurping whooshing sound. Dave leaned over to look. The sound was coming from her nether regions. No. It couldn’t be ...

The first of the strands flicked across Dave’s naked abdomen. He hardly felt it. But still he looked down. Another strand. Then more. Some were arriving from the other side of the bed. The nurse. Her bent-over, black hair-covered, fur-covered back faced him, too.  Slurp. Whoosh. Another strand. Another. His whole front was being meshed with strands. He wanted to pull the mesh off. But his arms were held tight to his sides. Then he was being lifted and turned and the silky strings kept coming. He was enveloped in a white shroud. It covered his mouth.

'There, there, Dave. All done. Nothing to worry about.'

He could hear the rubber wheels as he was swished along a corridor. The strip lights on the ceiling flashed by. Then he felt the thump of his trolley hitting double doors.

He was being hoisted. Then what a scene met him! A dozen giant cocoon shapes were dangling from the ceiling. They looked like a series of plump sleeping bags hanging up in some outdoor pursuits shop. But these were all white, except for small dark patches near their tops. Eyes, Dave realised, pairs of eyes. Some were blinking.  And some shapes were moving. Short, twitchy movements that created momentum and made the shapes spin slowly around on thin silky strands that attached them to the ceiling. Dave tried to move. But all he managed was to jerk his lower body.

'Twitchers,' thath what I call you.' It was the nurse again. Or at least it was the nurse's face. But it was a face now attached to a black hairy ... no ... furry body. Standing upright on four of her thin, bristly black legs she raised herself to move her face close to his. 'Fwesh, you thee. We like to keep you fwesh until ...'

'Until what? What do you do?'

'Well, we don't like eating hard bit-th. No. So we ...' she opened her mouth. 'Well, we ditholve you.' Juices, anticipating the feast to come, spurted from a shiny, wet, wobbling pink tube inside her cheek. 'It only taketh a couple of dayth. You can thee it thtarting to work on that twitcher behind you.'

Spinning slowly, Dave now saw, in front of him, the twitcher in question. The figure was no longer twitching but convulsing - its lower half curling upwards and then collapsing, curling and collapsing. And below the figure’s pleading, despairing eyes, the shape of a mouth wide open - wide open beneath the linen-like covering - howling its stifled, awful screams.