The Scream

Warm water ran down my back as I lathered shampoo through my hair. My eyes were closed as I scrubbed. I leaned back into the stream of warm water to rinse my hair, opened my eyes, and heard a hideous scream escape my own throat. A short, sharp, scream of fright, the kind Mom used to make. The kind I try so hard to avoid making. There, just a few inches from my head was a skinny, long legged spider.

I felt silly for having screamed and the spider, who had just been inches from my head, did his best to climb a wet strand of web to the relative safety of the ceiling. I attempted to keep my eye on the spindly creature who at least twice escaped my field of vision when he again fell toward the warm bath collecting in the tub below.

I couldn't help but think of Mercer Mayer's "Little Critter" and his constant spider companion. I wondered if Mrs. Critter ever screamed at the unexpected company.