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  • Writer's pictureNeon Mariposa Magazine

Spiders on Goodrich Avenue by Zach Murphy

A fine mist lingered as Dao went for an early morning run on Goodrich Avenue. The only problem with running before sunrise is that she was the first person to brush through all the spiderwebs that formed overnight. It isn’t a particularly comfortable feeling — sticky strings clinging to your face. Dao didn’t fault the spiders, though. In fact, she admired their ways. How did they spin such intricate beauty?

On the way back to her small art studio, Dao noticed that one of her shoes became untied. After tying the laces, Dao popped back up and gazed upon an imposing mansion. The thing looked more like a castle than a home. Ambitious vines sprawled across the bricks, as if wanting to smother the enormous structure into oblivion. Dao stood there and wondered how much it would cost just to heat the place, especially if the people living there had cold hearts.

Just then, an elderly man wearing a painfully obvious wig and a bitter scowl poked his head outside of the lumbering front door and yelled, “Do you have a problem, miss?

“No,” Dao answered, quietly.

“Then why are you standing there staring at my house?” the old man asked.

Dao paused.

“It’s ugly,” she said.

Dao sped off with a satisfied smirk. I am a spider, she thought to herself.

Zach Murphy is a Hawaii-born writer who somehow ended up in the often chilly but charming land of St. Paul, Minnesota. His stories have appeared in Peculiars Magazine, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, WINK, and the Wayne Literary Review. He lives with his wonderful wife Kelly and loves cats and movies.

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