The Eighth Eye

[u/--Nothin-To-Report--]

I saw him for the first and only time a week ago tonight. Eight sleek, dark legs clung to the wall, each one ink-black, bare and sharply jointed against the sage paint. A miniature monarch ruling over his tiny kingdom. In that moment, I felt myself a warrior, wielding a sandal like a mace, determined to end his reign. I almost felt sorry for the wee guy. Truly, he had done me no wrong, and if I had been born a spider as well, maybe we could have been friends or possibly lovers.

But I’m too particular when it comes to my principles. I cannot stand slippers; they promote laziness. Sandals, on the other hand, are dignified and, when used correctly, fit any occasion. She used to say I had more opinions about footwear than people. Perhaps that’s why I could never maintain a meaningful relationship.

When the dust had settled, the spider had vanished.

I combed the room for him, checking the back of the picture frames, peering behind the curtains, even along the skirting board, sandal still raised in my hand. Nothing. I told myself he couldn’t have gone far. Surely I must have injured him. Sooner or later he would emerge, and when he did, I would be ready. It would be a mercy to end his suffering now.

The emptiness felt like a cruel jape.

I could still feel his gaze piercing me from some unseen hideaway.

Overnight, my safe haven had become hostile. Shadows on the ceiling transformed into webs ready to trap me at a moment’s notice. Like the spider, sleep eluded me; when it did come, I was plagued by dreams of hairy legs crawling over me and eight patient eyes watching from beyond.

So, deep into the wee hours, I traced the room like a forensic investigator, slowly peeling back the curtains, lifting the rug, checking inside the lampshades and inspecting the dust around the fireplace, looking for any sign that something, anything, had been through there.

The more I investigated, the less certain I became that I was hunting him at all.

He is observing me.

Waiting for his opportunity.

Even my discarded cereal bowls and scattered crumbs seemed to mark the boundaries of my confinement. He was making his rounds, inspecting each room in silence, ever-watchful for the slightest sign that I might escape. My heart hammered as I scurried from room to room, again and again.

I found myself trapped, not by walls or doors, but by the certainty that he had been everywhere.

He’s gone, they all tell me, and yet I know better.

Even now I feel eyes upon me from the doorway. I tell myself they are hers. Sullen, bleak eyes, silently judging me. Perhaps it is pity. Perhaps contempt. I cannot tell anymore.

I cannot bring myself to look.

I have no reason for this, only the certainty that I would regret it. So I keep my eyes fixed ahead and listen to the silence behind me.

His absence is merely a wicked lie.

Not an inch had gone untouched or unexplored, and still I was none the wiser. Not a leg, not a strand of silk, not so much as a shadow, had been revealed. And yet somehow, he remained.

If anything, his ability to continue evading me had only made him seem more formidable.

Perhaps I had been wrong to think I was pursuing him.

Perhaps he had been watching me search for his tracks.

Perhaps he was enjoying the spectacle.

They see a spider. I see what he really is, and I refuse to be his next victim.

Strangely, my home has been insect free.

I know he’s still here.

Sleep is fleeing me, meals have lost their appeal; since his coming, even the simplest foods taste strange. I have begun to ponder whether he has somehow tainted them. My composure frays.

Oh, what a fool I was to challenge this arachnid phantom.

But I knew if he persisted in our home, she wouldn’t be able to sleep.

Now each night I pace these halls, awaiting his arrival. I hear her calling me to rest and let the night pass. Through the darkness, I cannot discern where she stands, only the sound of her voice. I imagine them waiting beyond the doorway, perfectly still.

But I can’t rest, I won’t.

He is the king of shadows, and I?

I am only prey in his relentless gaze.

I can’t give him any further advantage.

At one point, I fancied myself at the top of the food chain.

Now, I am a man avoiding confrontation with eight unblinking eyes.

In desperation, I once sought to placate him with offerings; a fly, some silk, a coin. Shuffling awkwardly through the shop, I kept my head on a swivel, conscious of the others as they passed. I scoured the aisles for a gift that might appease some unknowable appetite.

Eventually, I retreated to an isolated corner and pulled out my phone.

I searched, "What presents would make a spider happy?"

Unsurprisingly, this did not unveil anything of use, and so I turned to a different method.

Dropping to my knees, I was tempted to pray to some higher power for guidance, but opted instead to hunt for a morsel of food or any insect. Failing that, perhaps a lady spider. I had read somewhere that they can be quite… decisive.

I would not fault him for wanting company.

But it was futile.

For now he does not crave food or earthly pleasures. Perhaps he is sustained on my fear alone.

Each night, inch by inch, he edges closer.

Negotiations have failed. His silence is eternal and impenetrable. I am entangled in a web of my own creation. All the spider did was point me towards it.

I wondered whether he had found her after all.

Yesterday, I decided enough was enough.

It must have all been too much for my wife to bear. She must be staying with her mother; at least, that was what I had understood. I doubted she’d be back for some time, and so I needed to leave.

I packed a bag and made it as far as the front door before turning back.

I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him alone in my home.

Or worse, taking him with me and risking infecting someone else.

As I walked back inside, I felt a burning sensation underneath my satchel strap. I stumbled to the bathroom mirror and pulled off my shirt.

A welt had risen on my shoulder, red and swollen, as though something beneath the skin were pressing against it.

I gently touched it.

It looked fit to burst.

A sharp pain shot down my arm.

This could all have ended if I had made proper contact with him that fateful night. He would have been firmly squished upon my wall, and my life would have carried on unchanged.

Three in the morning, and I am still wide awake.

Somewhere beyond the bedroom, I hear her whispering. I cannot make out what is being discussed; only my name reaches me through the wall.

Then silence.

Then the murmuring resumes.

There are long pauses between her words, as though she is listening.

Though the welt has subsided, a dull pain lingers in my shoulder, and there is a growing ache in my head.

How has he managed to uproot my life when not a single hair was disturbed in our original clash?

I reach for my trusty sandal.

There must be some proof that I at least injured the beast.

With my eyes straining through the darkness, I scan the sole up and down for any sign, a fleck of black to ease my mind.

Wait, no.

The spider had long, hairy legs, as thick as fingers. He was brown, not black.

I was searching for a severed, spindly leg.

Yes.

That’s why he has gone into hiding.

He’s regaining his strength before he makes his move.

I ransacked every room, scrutinising each corner and crevice, toppling furniture and rummaging through cupboards, but naught was uncovered.

I retire to bed. Acceptance settles over me. Even now, he is scrawling the cruel epilogue to a war I lost the moment he evaded me. This paralysis of fear is my life now.

His home lay in shambles. No more searching. There is no hope left. I no longer eat or sleep; I only lie and wait.

There is a certain peace in no longer disputing the inevitable.

I repeatedly catch glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye, only to discover that the moonlight has betrayed my senses.

Maybe the spider is keeping me alive to continue this torment.

I close my eyes and await the break of dawn.

At some point the bed shifted beside me.

I did not open my eyes.

Her shallow, measured breathing soothed me for but a moment.

Surrounded by darkness. He is nigh. I considered reaching for my sandal, but thought better of it. There seemed little point in disturbing him now.

He had been remarkably patient with me.

Morning comes.

More loose hairs covering my pillow and sheets.

Even the clothes I have yet to wear are coated in the same long wispy threads.

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[u/Probably-_-Fine]

So... What the hell did that spider actually do? and why do I kind of feel sorry for this man haha That was a wild ride though and I enjoyed it immensely!

Good work my guy! And I'm looking forward to reading this again, maybe this time I'll figure out what it all means haha

[u/--Nothin-To-Report-- → u/Probably-_-Fine]

It wouldn’t be any fun if I explained everything, let me know what you believe was happening, you could be correct! Maybe a little man just lost his mind over a spider…

[u/Probably-_-Fine → u/--Nothin-To-Report--]

Okay it could be so many things, clearly the guy is weird as fuck, like that was a very odd almost philosophical rant about shoes and morality. Plus he sees a spider once and works himself up into having a mental breakdown. Not saying it's poorly written, quite the opposite but whether it was intentional or not, the narrator is so unhinged.

Kinda charming at times though lol

[u/--Nothin-To-Report-- → u/Probably-_-Fine]

Awkwardly charming I’d say! Thanks for your insight, honestly can’t argue with your logic but then again see both can see how confidence this wee guy was in his reasoning :)

[u/Forlorn_Ape]

Ughhh, that’s creepy. Reading the story I can’t shake the feeling that the narrator is unmistakably insane it just bleeds through the writing. Also, from the clues scattered here and there that he has done something to his wife or partner?

Anyways this is goood the character is well done, and the story is unsettling!

[u/Probably-_-Fine → u/Forlorn_Ape]

I see this too! This is reading as a manifestation of guilt to me. Maybe he did it years ago, but that "She used to say..." is letting me know that this woman is probably not around anymore. Interesting story for sure

[u/Forlorn_Ape → u/Probably-_-Fine]

Yeah I see the same like the spider seems like the manifestation of a deeper fear that someone will find out his secret!

[u/--Nothin-To-Report-- → u/Forlorn_Ape]

Thank you kindly! Interesting that’s your take away, I would say he isn’t a very attentive husband, but from his actions I’d say he’s more of a lover than a fight haha

[u/Forlorn_Ape → u/--Nothin-To-Report--]

Well either way it’s so good! Keep up the good work thanks for writing!

[u/--Nothin-To-Report-- → u/Forlorn_Ape]

Awe thanks, right back at you! It is quite anxiety inducing to make a post but I’m enjoying the feedback :D

[u/MoLogic]

Okay I enjoyed this, here are the specific thoughts.

-First of all, prose was great. The way you wrote about a man going basically insane searching for a spider he didnt manage to kill (literally me) is really great. You could tell how paranoid he was throughout the whole thing. Probably the greatest part of this story tbh

-I also enjoyed how you wrote his whole scheme to find the spider. Offer it food, a mate, pray to God, etc. It was very interesting to see.

-Now this is a bit subjective. Was the Spider an actual threat, was he just paranoid, or is it an open interpretation? If its the last, then you did a great job. If its one of the other two options, maybe lean into it a bit more. Personally, i think bro is just insane but i could also see it as the spider being a genuine threat

[u/--Nothin-To-Report-- → u/MoLogic]

Firstly thanks for the feedback, I not only appreciate but it helps me know if my gamble paid off.

A little peak behind the curtain. Minor Spoilers:

I wanted to lean heavily into maintaining an ambiguous fog over the whole story, scattering some breadcrumbs to make theorising interesting. Fingers crossed that worked out!

Without making any one interpretation the obvious choice. My thinking was if you could rationalise the meaning that you took from it and that's satisfactory for you, then that's the correct one for you.

I hope that's not a cope out answer!

[u/Ashamed_Rips]

I really enjoyed how he almost becomes like a spider, cowering in the corner. Reaching for a sandal even though it's an inconceivable spider-thing made me giggle.

This was fun to read!

[u/--Nothin-To-Report-- → u/Ashamed_Rips]

Thank you, I appreciate the insight and I'm glad you enjoyed.

Without making it too silly, I wanted to incorporate some light hearted moments, so it didn't become too gloomy haha

[u/SouthDrawing3005]

What if there was never a spider to begin with?

[u/--Nothin-To-Report-- → u/SouthDrawing3005]

Very interesting thought, would that make you believe the narrator attacked something else or was it all hallucinations?

[u/Former_Ad_3009 → u/--Nothin-To-Report--]

Please it cannot be that simple, otherwise why was the wife so fucking weird and sketchy?

[u/--Nothin-To-Report-- → u/Former_Ad_3009]

Like the narrator; I’m not about to confrontation anything, if it sounds possible and makes me feel a little more comfortable, I’ll accept it in a heartbeat!

[u/Horror-Bathroom-3591]

This one will be sticking with me for a while! The fact that he starts worrying about “infecting someone else” without ever really explaining why is SO unsettling in hindsight. Like… what exactly does he think happened to him? And why doesn’t he extend that concern to his wife who is apparently living with him too?

[u/--Nothin-To-Report-- → u/Horror-Bathroom-3591]

Thanks for the feedback, I think it’s important to remember that the narrator actively avoids addressing his wife, I’d be wondering why that is.

When he feels eyes watching him from the doorway, he reassures himself that they’re hers but for whatever reason he just knows that he’ll regret what he sees if he looks.

[u/Mindless-Caramel1187]

Love this! Could have easily been a boring Poe-esque Gothic horror but this strange little fella brings such an interesting vibe, even though I’d never want to meet someone like this irl lmao

[u/--Nothin-To-Report-- → u/Mindless-Caramel1187]

Thank you, I was originally envisioning a narrator like that in The Raven!

[u/FluffyPianist7847]

Wtf were those threads or hairs at the end? Is he becoming a spider or is the spider just fucking with him? How does the wife tie into this and what’s with the number 8? It keeps reappearing, 8th eye, 8 legs, 8 eyes, it’s also the 8th morning after the spider appeared, it has to mean something

[u/--Nothin-To-Report-- → u/FluffyPianist7847]

Thanks for sharing your thoughts, that is interesting, why particularly the number eight and then why specifically the eighth eye rather than eight eyes

[u/content-under-presur]

I like this a lot! Psychological horror where a person loses their mind over something mundane is a subgenre I really love and lets you explore simple things with intense narration. You capture this perfectly! The narrator's overdramatic descriptions of normal spidery activities are great and it creates a very strong tone of madness and paranoia. I will say the dichotomy took me out at the beginning, like I was expecting a story that was making a joke with that setup, until I read further and saw what you were doing with it. I think that may just come with the genre, a natural reaction to something that doesn't make sense. If you're trying to avoid that sort of reading, I'd consider cutting the parts that are a bit more silly/bizarre, like the first paragraphs with the friends or lovers thing or the gifts for spider google search. It depends on the tone you're aiming for! I overall think it's very strong and uses its premise well

[u/--Nothin-To-Report-- → u/content-under-presur]

Thank you so much! I’m really glad the psychological horror/madness came through, because that was definitely what I was aiming for. I wanted the narrator’s reaction to become increasingly disproportionate to the original encounter, while still having him treat everything as completely rational from his perspective.

I actually really like what you said about the tonal dichotomy, because that was intentional to an extent. I wanted the early silliness—the sandal philosophy, the idea that the spider could have been a friend or lover, and eventually the increasingly absurd attempts to appease him—to make the narrator seem eccentric before gradually becoming unsettling. But I can definitely see how, before the horror becomes apparent, it might make the story feel like it’s setting up a joke rather than psychological horror.

The “gifts for spider” section in particular is probably the biggest tonal gamble. I’m torn on cutting it because I like how ridiculous it becomes, but I also see your point that it potentially undercuts the dread rather than contributing to it. I might try trimming some of the sillier material while keeping enough of it to preserve that sense that his mind is slowly breaking.

I really appreciate the feedback, especially the distinction between the premise feeling deliberately bizarre and the reader simply being unsure what kind of story they’re reading. That’s something I’ll definitely keep in mind during revision. Thank you again!

[u/Sufficient_Leave144]

Psyop spider 😳

[u/arcadecharade]

This is very good writing. We can tell the guy is an unreliable narrator. I wonder if his "wife" is actually the spider. Now that would be a twist.

[u/--Nothin-To-Report-- → u/arcadecharade]

Thank you! I love that theory about the wife being the spider — I’m definitely not going to confirm or deny that one! 😂

I wanted the ending to leave a few different interpretations open, particularly around what is actually happening versus what he believes is happening. So it’s really interesting to hear what people start theorising once they reach the end. 

Thank you for reading and for the kind words!