"With the sight of our fellow-creatures…in moral and physical degradation so abject; under a tyranny so arbitrary, wanton and barbarous; it is utterly astonishing, that our compassion and sympathy should be so timid and calculating, so slow and cautious."

- Elizabeth Heyrick (UK, 1824)

I was six years old and seven hours into the eight-hour road trip. I sat in terror as the largest, black spider wriggled out from between the AC vent on the ceiling. Its grotesque spindle legs writhed as it crawled across the tan fabric and stopped directly over Lilly’s head. I tried not to make a sound. I inhaled quietly despite the nauseating air of the back.

I kept my mouth shut; convinced in my naivete that any noise from me would set the creature off, making it drop from the ceiling. I slowly leaned forward, wincing at the reeling sound of my seatbelt. I couldn't hear what Lilly and my mom were saying, but I was sure it was about the best way to get rid of the spider. The hot air in the back coagulated and I began to sweat. Minutes passed as they continued to debate. I imagined what they must be saying. "Should we open the window?"

"Will we have to pull the car over?"

They were the grownups. They always knew what to do.

After five minutes of my eyes cutting back and forth between them and the spider, my nerves couldn't take it.

"Please just do something!" 

The whole car fell silent. Fear had caused my plea to come out much louder than I had intended. Lilly raised her eyebrow at me, confused.

"Do what about what?"

My face paled. She didn't know. This whole time they were talking nonsense while the unseen danger hung in silence.

"The spider." I whimpered. I was crying now. The adults didn't know. They couldn't see. But this was my mom's car. Wouldn't she know if there was a spider in the air vent? I pointed up towards the ceiling and Lilly's eyes followed. She screamed. My mother, a veteran of driving through havoc, kept the steering wheel steady down the freeway. She glanced through the rearview mirror to interrogate the back seat.

Now there was action. Napkins and cups were pulled from crevices. Even my brother on the opposite end of the back seat was shouting suggestions. Movement. Panic. Fear. 

~ The Tyranny of the Spider ~ 

“They Rick-Rolled the Epstein Files.

There’s measles in Texas.

The PBM Bill failed.

The planes are falling.

They yell at a man at war

He is on my ceiling with eight legs.

But I can’t see a driver.” - (US, 2025)

As everyone else worked to find the closest weapon, I watched as the spider slowly crawled back through the slots in the vent. We later sold the SUV. Not because of the spider, we just needed a bigger car.