Caught in Spider Web

The Thread That Waits

Taylor always thought her fear of spiders was irrational—something to laugh about, a quirk she could someday outgrow. But fear has a way of reminding you it’s real.

The woods were still that afternoon, wrapped in a golden calm. She followed a narrow trail, leaves whispering beneath her boots, until the air itself seemed to tighten. Then she walked straight into it—a nearly invisible web stretched across the path, clinging instantly to her face and hair.

The first touch made her flinch. The second made her stop breathing. Sticky silk wrapped around her arms, her shirt, her mouth. She raised a trembling hand to brush it away—then froze.

A spider dangled inches from her eyes. Black. Glossy. Watching.

Her heartbeat grew sharp and fast, the sound pounding in her ears. She whispered, “It’s fine,” but the words broke apart before they left her lips. Each movement only pulled the web tighter, the threads biting at her skin like something alive.

The spider twitched. Moved closer.

Panic came hard and sudden, drowning out reason. She thrashed and clawed, stumbling backward through the trees. The web tore in sticky ribbons, clinging to her skin, her clothes, her hair. She could feel it crawling—imagined legs on her neck, her shoulder, her hand.

When she finally broke free, she was gasping, trembling, alone. The sunlight looked wrong now, too bright, too sharp. Fine silken strands still glistened on her arms. She brushed them off again and again, but they wouldn’t go away.

Behind her, deep in the shade, something shifted. A faint stretching sound, like silk being pulled tight.

And though she couldn’t see it… the web was already rebuilding.