Mr. Spider

Written by Cheyanne Foster

My story begins with a vicious faceoff between me and a black, spindly arachnid with microscopic black eyes. Every second, its body would twitch, and I waited in fear to see whether or not it wished to kill me. My mind juggled theories: did it come from the crack in the ceiling, or was it a gift of torment? The fact that it ruined my precious breakfast time made me even more upset. It hovered above my head while cereal balanced on a white abyss of almond milk, as if watching a sitcom of a teenage girl struggling between panic and gaining fortitude. 

A couple hours passed, and the couch welcomed me with its soft, velvety cushion. Throughout the day I completed chores, avoiding the eye and wrath of the spider which followed me. A click-clack resonated in my ears, then I heard a collection of footsteps, and realized my mother finally arrived home from her weekend trip to Vegas.

“Are you having fun daydreaming about walls, Judie?”

Great. Apparently the household camera captured me staring at the dull, white walls, and she must’ve thought that I found a new obsession. After staring at the TV screen, I jumped off the couch and we entered the kitchen together. She set multiple bags on the counter, smoothing her wrinkled clothes. A sigh escaped from her lips, and I noticed that her eyes seemed darker.

“Mom, I understand that you would like to rest now, and I hope you had a ton of fun, but there are more important matters as I speak.” She gazed at me calculatingly and incredulously. Perhaps I was being way too dramatic?

“Care to give me a better explanation?”

“That spider won’t leave me alone, I think we should get rid of it, don’t you think?” I pointed hastily at it, hoping she would grab a shoe and kill it since I couldn’t muster the courage to do so.

“What spider? There’s nothing there.” 

Not only do I feel inferior, but I begin to feel crazy due to her response. The spider crosses the room, inching closer and closer to the kitchen. As I stared at it move gracefully, I could feel the piercing gaze of my mother. I didn’t need to become a psychic to understand her growing concern for my mental state. She returns to organizing whatever was contained in the bags.

A gravelly voice which sounds as if it has lived many years says from behind me, “I shall depart soon after you complete a task for me.”

“What is it?” I ask, his voice being the only one I hear.

“Carry me to my home, as I cannot comprehend the way. I remember a bush outside of this castle. Please take me to my family.”

Before, it was fear. Now, it was guilt. Escaping from my mother’s view, I take a deep breath, and converge to the wall. The spider climbs down to me, taking his spot upon my stretched hand. The feeling wasn’t pleasant, but I realized that he had a family, and I can’t kill him. When we reach the front porch, he exclaims, “Over there!”

I lay him down on the rocks, watching him travel towards a nearby bush. 

“Thank you for your kind generosity, lady! May you be blessed for the rest of your prosperous days.”

A smile reached my face, and I felt like a hero. From then on, my fear for spiders vanished, and I continued to resettle them as they appeared sporadically in our home.

By Alexis Day

11 December 2025

Christmas nativity scenes have long been more than simple holiday decorations—they are artistic storytelling devices that capture one of the most enduring narratives in Western culture. Whether carved from wood, molded from clay, or arranged with hand-painted figurines, a nativity scene transforms a familiar story into a visual experience that invites reflection.

At the center are Mary, Joseph, and the infant Jesus, often illuminated as the emotional focal point. Around them gather shepherds, angels, and animals, each figure carefully positioned to guide the viewer’s eye toward the stable. For centuries, artists have used these scenes to explore themes of humility, hope, and community. Even the arrangement of characters is symbolic: the rough textures of the manger contrast with the soft glow typically cast over the holy family, emphasizing the idea of light emerging from simplicity.

The tradition dates back to the 13th century, when St. Francis of Assisi created the first live nativity to make the story accessible to everyday people. Since then, the practice has evolved into countless artistic interpretations—from lifelike displays in town squares to minimalist sets in modern homes.

For many families today, setting up a nativity scene is both a creative ritual and a reminder of the season’s deeper meaning, blending craftsmanship with tradition in a uniquely personal way.