A daddy longlegs braces himself for his fate after two girls find him in the shower Bam! Crash! An earsplitting noise awakens me from my peaceful nap in the damp tub. My most feared enemy, deathly water, gushes down violently, leaving my eight nimble legs completely soaked. Oh, how cold and uncomfortable water is! Miserably, I clamber up onto the side of some kind of bottle (I’ve been in this family’s house long enough to understand the physics and names of objects) and wrap my delicate legs around it. Hopefully those awful humans with those horrible, daddy longleg-killing arms don’t notice me. And so it goes on for five gloomy minutes, water splashing everywhere as those happy humans jump around, too carefree that they don’t even see me clinging to the bottle, even when one giant, dangerous hand clamps upon the top. I am frozen with terror, frantically attempting to camouflage, like my leaf bug friend Joe. The two humans scream with delight and disappear from the tub. Frothy water still drains below, and I don’t dare crawl down. Finally. Calm once more. Or . . . not. There is a piercing shout, and I perk up, alarmed. Have the humans discovered me? The door swings open, and loud footsteps follow. I cower frantically in the corner of the drained tub, hoping to conceal myself. A childish voice yells, “Ahhh! Spider!” I’m very insulted by this incorrect statement. I’m not a spider—I’m an arachnid in the order name of Opilione. Spiders have eight eyes, and we daddy longlegs have two eyes. That’s the irritating thing about humans—their misjudging myths. Then suddenly another voice, deep and unfriendly, shouts, “Let’s kill it! Quick! Get a paper towel!” After water on my enemy list, paper towels are next. Those horror white sheets can squash someone as small as me in a millisecond! Nooooo . . . I think, whimpering. Well, I had a good life. At least I won’t have to withstand another one of Grandma Georgia’s lectures about being late home again. And then I see it. The paper towel. Menacing and terrifying as it hovers above me, ready to strike. I poise my legs, digging the ends in and bracing for the worst. But the worst never comes. Because . . . There is a protesting, high-pitched shout, and I spot the adult and taller girl with dark hair argue. The younger girl peers into the tub looking frightened and withdraws from the room. I feel hurt. Why are humans such scared-y insects? Soon, the paper towel retracts from the tub. What is going on? Why haven’t those unpleasant humans thrown me in the trash yet? The tall girl leaves and returns with a slender magazine. Drat. She’s just decided to kill me in a different way. Don’t humans have any sympathy for us poor harvestmen? But then I listen closely and the firm, girlish voice returns—“I think I can scoop him up if I’m careful.” My insides tingle with a tiny sensation of hope. The word careful means to be controlled and slow. That is a good sign. The magazine slips under me and I crawl forward uncertainly. Should I risk it? But I am already off the ground. The world blurs as I am brought along like an amusement park ride. I grip the edge of the magazine tightly. A breeze gusts behind me, making me feel slightly woozy. After several more bumps, there is a creak, and the magazine settles gently on the ground, waiting. The humans watch in excitement. I gaze out beyond the wide front door at the open world before me waiting to be discovered. Lime green bushes and the endless sky stretch before me. The leaves rustle from the trees as if greeting me. Bright sunlight—much more dazzling than the dimly lit house—radiates warmth. Although my mom tolerated me venturing past our nook in the garage corner, I was never allowed to wander off somewhere entirely unfamiliar. So, this was my chance. My chance to run wild and to adventure. Glancing one more time at the house, I crawl away silently, feeling a new thrill. Perhaps humans—ones with kind hearts—weren’t so bad after all. Because of them, I am now free.
April 2023
Alone in a Field
iPhone 8, photo editor
Fond Memories
Before moving to New York, the narrator recalls some of her favorite moments and places in Bellevue “GABBY!! Hurry up! We’re going to be late.” My sister’s voice echoed from the bottom of the stairwell. I slowly got up, deciding if I should move even slower to annoy her. My family was moving because my dad got a new job in the big city, and it felt like billions of miles away. I thought that if I could go back and change the past, I would make sure that he had never quit his old job. If he would have been happier there, then maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t be losing my entire life. I walked upstairs to the door that I always walked out of, thinking nothing would ever be the same ever again. I slipped my shoes on, opened the door, and stepped outside on the porch. I slammed the door shut with a big boom. I walked down the blue stairs where I would sit and watch the pouring rain smack on the ground every time the rain came pouring down. It was the best spot to just sit and listen to the pitter-patter of the rain bounce off the roof and onto the porch. All of a sudden all these other memories came rushing back to me. I thought about the red-leafed tree in my front yard where I would climb to the top just to see my neighbor’s house. I thought about the rocky driveway, where I would skate down to get to the road. We passed the street where my friend and I would play and yell “CAR!” every single time there was a car. One time, my family and I bought a little green plastic man that told cars to slow down and we put him on the curb. My friend Rae and I decided to name it Slow Joe. As we passed my friend’s yard, I was transported back to the memory of when we would lay a blanket and play with our toys when we were little. I remember one time we pretended that her yard was an imaginary house. We would play house with our little plastic toy foods. I started feeling a little upset about the move. I wished I could go back. I wished I could do life over. Do it over the right way. If life worked that way, there wouldn’t be so much pain in life—the disappointment and unhappiness that makes life miserable. I’m not sure this move is the best move, I thought to myself as tears welled up in my eyes. All of a sudden, Raeghan was rushing toward me, and I was approaching her yard. Once she had reached me, we started walking toward her front porch. One time I remember that we had Otter Pops. I can still taste the sweet, tangy flavor in my mouth, turning it purple. And we just sat there, not talking, just enjoying each other’s company. It was those fond memories that I didn’t want to leave behind, those memories I was clinging onto. I could tell she was trying to cheer me up. She was always trying to cheer me up when I was upset. “Are you excited for dinner? We’ve got pizza and watermelon,” Rae said to me as we walked along the sidewalk. There was a long pause. I didn’t answer. I could tell she was trying to cheer me up. She was always trying to cheer me up when I was upset. We had been friends since we were very young, so she had gotten amazing at it by now. We approached her door, and as soon as she opened the door her dog Lila was rushing toward me and jumping on me. She had the biggest grin a dog could have on her face. Her dark brown, chocolate hair shed all over me. Her coat was so shiny it was like the sun reflecting off water, but dog hair. Her claws were sharp, but it didn’t hurt. It felt pleasant to see how excited she was to see me. Somehow I was able to get out of that frenzy and get up the stairs. All with Lila on my trail. I raced out to the deck and so did Raeghan. As soon as we got outside, we ran down the stairs and raced to her clubhouse eagerly. We started chatting. “Hello!” My mother’s soft voice filled their empty backyard as she walked through the door. “Hey!” I said eagerly to Raeghan. “My parents are here. Come on—let’s go eat!” Not only were my parents here, but Charles was here too! Charles was my older sister Ellie’s boyfriend; he was sweet but very shy. I’m guessing also overwhelmed because he has one brother. There are five kids in our house. I am the youngest. Which was very fun; usually I had someone to play with. But sometimes I didn’t like having six parents instead of two. We rushed up the stairs to go see my family and Charles. As soon as we were all here, we started to dish up. As I walked through the line of food, I could smell all these different smells. It smelled like our neighbor’s cooking. Alone in a Field I thought about this restaurant down the block that had the most amazing mac and cheese bites I’d ever had. They were breaded and steaming hot as soon as you got them. The restaurant had this glass case of different-flavored ice cream. They didn’t want anyone to touch it, so they put this sign on it that said, Please don’t tap the glass; you’ll scare the ice cream. Cloud Nine was the best restaurant. Mostly because it was like home: it was only in that location. It was one of a kind, just like the place that I call home. The table where we sat was made of fake glass and didn’t fit that many people. The