White Rabbit Chapter 2

2.

Delores was only a few feet into her epic excursion when the feeling of penetrating panic began to overwhelm her. It felt as though the path was caving in, swallowing her up, and she said a curse word or two to Robert Frost and to herself for taking the road not traveled. “There is a bloody reason it is not traveled!” She complained angrily. She walked through several thick spider webs and frantically tried to clear them from her face before she decided to no longer prolong the inevitable and started to run again with her hands stuck out before her face. The path got colder and darker but there seemed to be more and more space as she progressed. There are few actions in the world that makes a person feel as free as running wildly in the dark, perhaps, running wildly naked in the dark, or night swimming. She began to feel less trapped although there was no sign that she was getting anywhere. Then as she began to smile at her liberty the ground gave out and Delores began to fall.

The feeling of falling is another thing that makes you feel free. But a fall should not be endeavored unless you have a soft landing arranged, are wearing a parachute, or else, you have no desire to live anymore, in which case you should pick the most splendidly tall building, tower, or mountain and make it worth every meter. The Eiffel Tower is a popular site and an estimated 400 people have committed suicide by jumping. Delores read a romantic story of a woman who jumped off it from over a hundred feet up and landed on the roof of a car. The owner of the car visited her in the hospital and after she recovered from her injuries, they married. Delores loves love stories. But she wasn’t in Paris, or tucked naked in her bed reading Emily Bronte or of what other people do or have done, she was in Maine falling down a deep dark hole. She kept falling but didn’t seem to gain any speed, in fact, she slowed as she progressed and was seemingly stalled by a series of thick spider webs until at last she felt herself lying in a bed of strange dry leaves. She could tell how they shifted that it was an enormous pile. It was still dark and she couldn’t see anything. The thought of the spiders that must have created those webs made Delores shiver and she frenziedly tried to free herself and escape.

But before she could, crawling up to her was a light which was one such spider and of considerable size. It was strangely glowing and the approximate size of a grapefruit, with legs. It was a youthful spider curious as to what had fallen through and destroyed its web. Then came another and another and another and they surrounded the hyperventilating girl who reached in her pocket for her inhaler that wasn’t there. It must have fallen out, she panicked. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, scooting away from the glowing spiders frantically. She wanted to keep her eyes closed but if she was to be devoured something inside of her wanted to see the culprit doing the devouring or perhaps offer a last-ditch defense. When her eyes opened there were hundreds of glowing spiders all around her and they parted for two large adults which were furry and the size of pumpkins to make their way to the girl.

“Who are you?” A strange voice asked angrily.

Delores couldn’t rationalize any of this but she was always terrible at rationalizing so she responded quickly as though it might save her life. “I’m Delores Marlowe.”

“Delores Marlowe?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” She replied nearly hyperventilating.

“Well,” the course high-pitched voice responded, “You ruined our web and we are none too pleased.” The ugly face of the spider and its eight dreadful eyes looked up and Delores looked up and could see with the glow of the spiders that she had fallen through the middle and had in fact ruined a series of intricate webs.

“I am sorry.” Delores said weakly. “I didn’t choose to fall.”

“Didn’t choose to fall?” he balked. “Is that all you have to say in your defense?”

“It seems.” She said.

“Well, I didn’t choose to be a spider. But here I am.” He paused to let his profound statement sink in. “I’m George and these are my children. This here,” he pointed with a furry grotesque leg at the other large spider beside him, “is Jan, my mate.”

“Jan?” Delores never fancied meeting a spider named Jan, nor a spider named George, nor to be in a hole of 100 glowing spiders the size of grapefruits and pumpkins.

“Hello.” Jan said softly. She backed up nervously when Delores moved forward still sitting on her backside. She propped herself up with her arms and looked around discouraged at her situation.

George continued. “These are our children.” And Delores looked at 100 and some strange smiling faces. 800 and some eyeballs all feasted upon the pretty sight of her. Delores was overwhelmed with panic but it was perhaps so much panic that she seemed calm while her insides were churning wickedly. The thought of being eaten by the spiders was petrifying. “Well,” George went on, “you going to make things right?”

“How do you mean, sir?” She was nearly in tears.

“We expect you to fix what you have broken. Can you mend our webs?”

Delores’s mind was in panic. It was a confused mess of pumpkin mush and fear. “I have never—I mean, I don’t have the—uh, how would I, um, mend your—”

“Needle and thread.” George replied. “You will find the pattern to be simple enough. The children can show you how to get started. Children!” He called.

“But, but I don’t…”

“Have needle and thread? There,” he pointed to a tackle box that was lying near her in he leaves under a couple of his kids, “you will find all that you need in there.”

Delores suddenly felt fortunate that she had been taught by her grandmother how to mend and sew on weekends in Connecticut when she was ten. She grabbed the green tackle box and opened it and there was a large spool of silk-like thread and a large needle. Threading the needle was fortunately easy and several of the interested child spiders climbed over her to help her see what she was doing. Also, in that tackle box, curiously, were her pink inhaler which she put in her pocket and an interesting-looking key unlike any she has ever seen before which she kept as well. She had been an amateur thief all of her life. Normally, spiders crawling all over her body would give her the shakes but in this case she was determined that the only way not to be eaten would be to do what George asked her to do. She carefully climbed up the walls and to the different levels and did the work she was asked to do. It took her several hours but at last it was completed and Delores successfully climbed down the side wall to the bottom where George and Jan waited.

“I am finished.” She said triumphantly. They looked up and seemingly approved of her work.

“Thank you, Delores Marlowe.” George said. “You made things right. People don’t usually make things right.”

“You are welcome, sir. And thank you for not eating me.” She said smiling figuring in her clever brain that if she thanked them for doing something that they didn’t do before they did maybe they wouldn’t. That is how her brain worked.

“We don’t eat Deloreses.” He replied simply. She didn’t inquire for fear they might reconsider.

“Now If you please, could you kindly tell me which way is the exit?” She was hoping he would oblige and sure enough all of the spiders lined up on a path which would lead her to somewhere, and somewhere is better than nowhere. As she walked away Delores at last thought of the abnormality of talking spiders which she didn’t previously consider. But where she was, which she had yet to consider entirely, and everything was about to get even stranger.