As usual, I turn on the light switch and my bedroom glows instantly. Peace emanates for a millisecond until I realise there is a visitor in my aura. I notice him pretty much immediately as the pink crystal lampshade illuminates the ceiling. Perhaps he is from outer space. He is dark, and has eight legs. He jumps across the romanesque rock squares that make up the white moulding just above my window. He does not need to cast a shadow. He is quite happy to sit and stare. I am not. I quite understand its protection signifier, but I’d rather it protect me from outside in, rather than inside out.
I cannot go to sleep with said creature, perhaps he will spiderman my face and crawl into my mouth somehow while sleeping. This is my actual worst nightmare. One time (at bandcamp), I was in the bathroom in front of the mirror and the thing crept up on me from behind my shoulder. It was terrifying, jumping up and down in a manic, er mania, did not do anything to exterminate my phobia. Since then, if there is a thing in my vicinity, it is my sole pathway in life to have it relocated to the great outdoors, and if needs be, I will do the job.
Standard times in a standard home would denote that my mum would save me, alas, she passed into spirit around about twelve months this bank holiday. I have been unhappily waiting for the horrendous moment where I am unable to scream for her at the top of my voice. I must be my soldier and complete the mission to its gruelling end, single-handedly.
It crouches and brings itself inwards as I ponder on how this is going to work out. The ceiling is quite high, and I am small. Not like a hobbit, but thereabouts. The best invention next to the wheel, is the empty box. Thankfully, I ordered a cute pair of red vintage Converse only last week and I am reaping the rewards of spending money for nothing.
An empty shoe box is my best friend. It’s the only way I can deal with the things. Except of course this one is on the ceiling. I take a purple tulip from my vase and the scene plays out beautifully as it crawls inside the petals, carefully and like superglue, it hangs to the stamen, I then drop the flower into my best friend, the end. Actual events see me reaching with a bendy stem and scenario numero deux involves thing landing on my face. I return the flower to its rightful place in the vase, and continue to attempt the extradition.
“Be imaginative,” the universe calls to me, I observe my room. It is filled with imagination, just not logic so much. The thing starts moving again towards the wardrobe, this is a negative situation. It will be impossible to complete the mission if it decides to live there. I scout my room one more time. Lightbulb. An umbrella. Long enough to make contact, long enough for me not to be freaked out by touching the creature.
The nose of the umbrella is now right infront of its eight thousand eyes and it doesn’t appear to be even slightly startled. This is war. I tap the umbrella, KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. I am winning. It does not appreciate the vibrations and cowers with fright, but does not move. The empty box in the meantime is now sitting against the skirting waiting to play catch. Deep breaths. The aim, is to push it gently so it falls down in a straight line plummeting into towards its cardboard happiness.
Unfortunately I quite forgot about its superhero web talent, I scream. Like a parachute but not, it shoots downwards – rapidly – deliberately missing the box, landing on my dark coloured carpet underneath a swathe of papers.
“Be brave,” voices reason. I move the papers and, I scream. It’s sitting inside the paper fold of tee designs and research. I duly scream again. I throw the papers into the empty box and open the fold so it has the freedom to walk into a corner.
Screaming (again), I remove the important papers and quickly jam the lid shut. See, the umbrella was long enough and long enough. The empty box on the other hand, is stout and approximately two millimetres in thickness. My inside refuses to hold its now temporary house in my bare hands all the way down the stairs, through the hallway, into the kitchen, through the lobby and outside into night darkness. More imagination required, a-ha! Using my fluffy white slippers with butterfly and flower embroidery detail as you would do oven gloves, the cardboard igloo is safely taken through mortal heavens, I save myself.
And all is well and serene once more.