The Unfortunate Orphan

Oh, why did it have to be spiders? I apologize deeply, but if you are one of those individuals who find spiders interesting, cute, or, dare I say it, you love the little fanged, death carriers of the minuscule realm, than I have little more respect for you than an extraterrestrial being unable to fathom the simple act of flipping a coin. Apologies, allow me to introduce myself. Actually, I will not. My name, race, nor any other aspects of my personal life are of your concern. All you have to know about me is that I am currently on an expedition for a lost heirloom that is rightfully mine, that I am not well-liked in my hometown, and that I absolutely loathe spiders. However, It seems that I must tread through my disgusting enemies in order to achieve my goal. Such is the case when you are in a position like mine. Alright, allow me to explain.

I was about five years old when I discovered that I did not get along well with other children. They would place spider webs on my door and on my dinner table, and I would respond by making jam out of the nightshade berries outside my family home and mix a few jars in with their mothers' raspberry and fig preserves. Oh, how I would laugh when their cute little faces would turn purple, blue and then white as they choked on their daily bread and milk. As I grew older, things got...more desperate. My mother died when I was twelve, and my father had virtually been unheard of for my entire life, so I took up living in my childhood home, where the other children would continue to make my life difficult. Every morning, I would be greeted with hollowed stones being thrown through my window, and every evening, smoke smelling of rosemary and garlic would flood my home through my chimney. One Sunday, when I went to Mass, I had discovered that my usual spot in the pews had been crudely engraved with the image of my face with eight scrawny little legs, with the words "Your mother was a hussy and a witch" written below it. Honestly, how immature children can be. Not to mention the age of my home was starting to show, and who'd be happier to join me in the noble quest of living than the venomous balls of black death, spinning their cotton beds in the rafters. Oh, how it made me shudder to come home from Mass to knock them all down with a broom! Alas, twas the story of my life, until, that is, on one particular Tuesday morning.

I had woken up early that morning, shivering from the morning air that leaked through the cracks in my window. I trudged to my cupboard and grabbed my last crust of bread. Guess I would have to make more this week. After breakfast, I took to the river to do my laundry. I then decided to traverse from my normal schedule and take to the forest to pick some berries. I didn't care which ones, I just needed some time out of the town, where the closest five-year-old could point and shout the latest obscure slur in their limited dictionary. I stumbled upon a blackberry bush, and just started picking, falling into a sort of automatic trance. It was about sunset when I began marching home, half expecting my house to be trashed by the local kids. I was pleasantly surprised to find the house in good condition, or at least, in no worse condition than it already was in. To celebrate, I thought I'd make a nice pie. I mixed and kneaded the dough, cooked a nice large pot of jam, and got it ready to bake. After the pie was done, I decided to take a nice, juicy bite from the center. It was right then that I discovered something, unusual. A piece of paper had made it into my pie!

I don't understand how such a thing passed my devout cooking skills, but out of sheer curiosity, I began to read it. The thing was folded six-fold, producing a surprisingly large sheet. The note went on and on about some nonsense about a maiden who swallowed a serpent, and regurgitated a ring embedded with rubies. It then stated that the ring was passed down through generations, bringing good fortune and protection to the family that held it, and that now, anyone with half a mind would pay millions for it. I had wondered where the note had come from, since I didn't write it, and my mother was illiterate til the day she drowned, God rest her soul. That's when it hit me. My father must have written the note! This meant that there was a familial possession that rightfully belonged to me. I turned the sheet over to find even greater news. My father had sketched a map on the back, and the ring was kept safe, just on the other side of the woods! This was excellent! My next chance at a fortune was just a hop and a skip away! I got so excited that I jumped in the air and threw the note away. This would not have been so unfortunate if a blackbird had not been waiting there to grab its latest meal. Just my luck. The little beast took off, heading into the direction of the town square. No! I couldn't let the little gremlins get their hands on my fortune! I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, praying the bird would fly by, but it was all for naught. The tallest kid of the pack snagged the bird from the sky and plucked the note from its beak. I could practically see the sneer on his face ten feet away. The moment they all looked at me, they knew the note held something really good. It was only a moment before the children had pounded me to little less than nothing and ran in the direction of the woods.

I simply sat there, pondering my future now that it had surely been done away with. Oh, how I wanted to strangle that idiotic bird until its tiny little head popped off. Why me? Why did I have to suffer, standing alone in the town as the other children ran off for my fortune. If only I had some other way to enter forest before them. And that's when I remembered. There was another way into the forest. It was through the back, where I could cut through the plains from behind my house to pick berries without ever entering the town. I had taken it once, as well. Only once, though. The path was laid with several briars, old traps from hunters, and of course, more spiders than a normal human being would be comfortable with. After I had returned home using that path, I promised myself I would never take that trail again. But this occasion was different. It was either take the frightening trail, or remain in this bloody town while others squandered my inheritance. I needed to find that ring. So, as you can imagine, I eventually mustered enough courage to take the trail. You can also imagine, I ran into several inconveniences on the way, including a viper that nearly took my large left toe, and a spiked bear trap that seemed too large for any animal, including a bear. But, I found the spot. I remembered from my father's map that it was a small circular pit in the ground, illuminated by sunlight, and surrounded by trees. The ring must have been in there. I got ready to reach in, when I saw it. A huge clump of black mass dead in the center. Spiders. Oh, why did it have to be spiders! If the ring was in there, then I was going to have to reach into there and grab it, ignoring all those little legs bushing up on my skin. As you know, this is the situation you find me in, and now, I can hear the other children coming. Thank you for listening to my story, as I do not believe I will be able to document it otherwise. Now, if you please, could you maybe reach in here with me?