This was written for my Creative Writing class. No, it is actually NOT the most frightening experience I've had, it was just the one that popped into my head as it happened recently (the summer of 2011). Enjoy.
Creative Writing
The Time I Almost Died
I donned the work gloves as I stepped outside into the warm, summer air. I was asked by my mother to remove all weeds from a section of dirt near our driveway. Originally, that area was planned to be filled with brick or bark, but the project had been set aside until the weeds overtook it. I decided to start weeding the area nearest to the road and furthest from the driveway. A small shovel and a large shovel were my only tools I possessed to assist me in my task. The ground was densely covered with dark, green vegetation, becoming less thick near the road, where rocks seemed to be growing instead of weeds.
I began with the weeds easiest to pull. As they were removed, several different types of small insects scurried away. I saw many ants, a few earwigs, and on occasion, small spiders. Other insects that don’t have the honor of being mentioned were also observed. The infestation became worse as I neared the thicket of vines, grass, and miniature bushes that sat in the middle of the area.
I paused and enjoyed the sun as it was not midday and therefore relatively cool. I walked over to the shade of an ancient crabapple tree located next to the area I was weeding and sat on the cool, dewy grass. Then, I realized I was quite thirsty and walked inside my house to drink a large glass of ice-cold water. I exited the cool house after finishing drinking and back into the warm day to resume my task.
I started to pull the stranger weeds. Some were large with vines that weaved their way around the other plants, choking the stems. Others were like bushes; so thick that it seemed to be one large mass instead of several smaller plants clumped together. I started to imagine myself a giant and the insects as animals or humans. They were at my mercy as I pulled away their cover and homes of grass, dandelions, and pricklies. I decided to be benevolent and not kill every single bug. I would pull away a weed and watch the ants scurry away to cover. However, I squished every single earwig I found. They deserved no mercy.
I rested, slightly annoyed at having to spend the day weeding this infested patch of weeds. I looked back over what I had cleansed thus far, and was proud. I noticed a few particularly large weeds up ahead, and attacked them with my large shovel. As I removed the large dandelion plant, I saw several spiders scurry away. I was startled. Although I did not like
spiders, I certainly wasn’t afraid of them. I tossed the weed over to a wheelbarrow nearby, already holding the previously pulled weeds. They lay in the cavity, becoming more and more limp as the sun stole their moisture.
I wiped my brow clear of sweat as the summer’s sun beat down on me. I decided to weed post-haste to finish this time-consuming task, and found the gloves I wore inhibiting my ability. I removed the glove from my right hand, the hand I used for pulling, but not the left.
I moved over to where the dirt met the concrete of the driveway. The weeds grew under the concrete, making them difficult to pull, as if the weeds had calculated a battle strategy to counter my efforts or removal. As I pulled one chunk of weeds out, I saw a colony of ants swarming where the weeds once stood. I watched them amble around, amazed at the amount of ants. The sheer number proved that this area was obviously more infested with all sorts of insects. I also saw some of my favorite bugs: rolley-polleys. Now, that is just a nickname as I do not know the real name. Rolley-polleys have a hard shall and several legs. Whenever they feel threatened, they curl into a ball, protecting their inner and weaker self. Rolley-polleys feel threatened quite easily, so I left them alone and let them crawl about. I moved over to another clump of weeds, no doubt filled with assorted insects and arachnids.
I plunged my right hand into the thicket, reaching far down so my fingertips rested on the roots of the plants. I ripped out the mass and noticed a spider. It was a curious spider, colored black with red on its abdomen. There were several other of the same type of spider in the clump. The spiders quickly scurried away to another batch of undergrowth nearby after being exposed to the light of the midday sun, so I could not see what the pattern of red was on their back.
As I sat, squatting, holding the weeds in my right, ungloved hand, realization hit me with the full force of a sack of bricks and then some. The spiders I saw were black widows, the most poisonous spider in existence! The weed fell from my grip. I looked at my right hand, slowly coming to the realization that it wasn’t covered. What seemed like an eternity, but was just a few seconds, I realized something once again. Those black widows were lying in wait next to my right hand when I pulled those weeds. They could have easily bit me. I could have died!
I stood up and backed away slowly, still in shock at the several realizations that lead to the knowledge that my life could have ended. I walked slowly, and then picked up speed until I ran inside the house, leaving one glove on the porch, the other still lying abandoned in the dirt. I called for my mom and related my story to her. She didn’t think that black widows lived here, but at my description of the spiders, she believed me.
Perhaps the motto that can be taken from this story is “always be protected” or “never plunge into potential danger.” However, I know that when I go weeding, whether it be a flower garden or another place, I will always be wearing my gloves to protect me from any insect that lives in the undergrowth, paying no heed to the slowing effect of the gloves. For, who knows what manner of ghastly fiend may be lurking in the still darkness of the vegetation?