Said the Spider

By Sasha McCallum

When Saffron travels home to abscond a stifling, plastic life, she meets an escapee from a local religious sect. Lark is sick, battered, and strangely disengaged from the real world. As Saffron nurses her back to health and introduces her to new possibilities, she reveals an extraordinary set of abilities and an unrestrained character.
But Lark has secrets even Saffron might not be able to accept.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sasha McCallum
• Release date: Nov 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463145883

Sasha McCallum

"Talent and success are perpendicular to each other." Sergei Dovlatov

Book preview

Said the Spider

By Sasha McCallum

Copyright © 2018 Sasha McCallum

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this ebook, please encourage your friends to download a copy from their favorite authorized dealer. Thank you for your support.

This story is fiction; characters, towns and incidents are the product of the writer's imagination.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Other titles

Sample of Oculi

Chapter One

Savage Falls

The roads were steeper, more winding and far lonelier than I remembered, lined asphalt the sole sign of human life for lengthy stretches between towns. A decade living in the hustle and bustle of Mexico City had altered my perception. These ranges were cold and green—foreboding shadows lay in wait amongst meadows of pine and fir. I used to be afraid of straying too far beyond the tree lines when I was little, but now the wilderness on all sides of me inspired a sense of elation. This was the beginning of why I had come back and it was a comfort the first of my nostalgic sentiments was a positive one; I took it as evidence I had made the right choice.

One last lungful of fresh alpine air and I wound the window closed and turned the heating up a notch. The temperature decreased steadily as I climbed further into the hills but it was still the wrong month for snow. I would reach Savage Falls in about an hour according to the GPS. I tried to relax and slow the car down. These roads were dangerous, many a horror crash had occurred during my childhood. I imagined the car accidents formed the backbone of the local news because there was nothing else to report. From the information I'd updated myself with, my destination was still a quiet, sleepy town—beautiful but boring. Perfect. Confronting the past would provide more than enough to occupy my wary psyche on arrival.

It was time to go home. Weird that I still thought of it as home after all these years. Home is one of those things you can't change; the word and the feelings associated with it linger forever. In Mexico, my life as Belen Abreu had begun to show cracks. I could pretend all I wanted but I couldn't cover up the attacks of anxiety which had begun to occur when I was supposed to be wearing my public persona. They refused to be silenced, as though something inside me was screaming to get out, something that hated who Belen was. So I responded, I left her life hanging in the shadows, flew back to Big Sky Country and prepared for re-entry to the house I left twelve years ago as Saffron Crowe—notwithstanding a few serious alterations. Maybe Belen could be resurrected if Saffron managed to retrieve her poise, but for the next month, she was history.

It felt good to adjust my appearance, change my hair and make-up style, switch back to English and return to the States. Shedding Belen was easy, but I was profoundly uncomfortable being Saffron again. My inclination was to reinvent myself, start afresh—a powerful urge that needed to be quashed—only Saffron could resolve the issues my subconscious had now. I needed to unravel the pieces of memory I still held and stitch them together into something coherent. I always knew the day would come, but it wasn't clear whether I looked forward to its eventuality or dreaded it. I was a real person when I was last in Savage Falls; more a child than an adult and definitely damaged, but genuine. Back then my identity was uncontrolled, un-compartmentalized. Now each natural quality had been edited and sieved out for use in another mask, another recreation of myself. Over the years, as I met more people, I absorbed their characteristics, mastered and recombined them. Belen may have been paid to act but the pretense had spilled over to every other part of myself. Too often lately I was convinced there might be nothing left underneath the façade, nothing real to salvage. Thus the cracks. And now, here I was.

My plan upon arrival did not involve meeting anyone except the doctor; he was necessary and when I reached deep, I was looking forward to seeing him again. Taking on the identity of someone I barely knew would be difficult, but I had a feeling he would be a good guide. Aside from him I would probably blank myself out, keep my head down and my mouth shut; see if anything stubborn began to show through.

My mother would laugh at me thinking like this. She would accuse me of being melodramatic, that no normal person needed to make an effort to be real. In doing so she would imply she was normal and I was not. I didn't need to travel home to face my mother's ghost; she'd always been there, in my head, pointing and sneering, as if I were a prank gone wrong. Ironic I should turn into a narcissist after a childhood spent being put down and criticized. A defensive strategy, I supposed, to cover up deep insecurities. I tried to wipe the frown from my face as I drove, then remembered I was free to create as many lines on my face as I wanted for a while and narrowed my eyes indulgently again. Screw Cait, screw the whole shitty world.

A grievous yowl from the backseat reminded me I had a passenger to consider as I swung around the bends. Guido was protesting in earnest and I eased my heavy foot on the accelerator. It was an illegible mystery to be in a rush to meet my ghosts; they could wait.

Sorry, boy. Not far to go now and you're going to love Linwood. Lots of nature to explore.

In the five years I'd had Guido, he came with me almost everywhere. There was no point in having a pet unless they travelled with you and Guido and I were inseparable. A diminutive, plain, tabby kitten, it had been the obvious scorn in his eyes which attracted me, as he peered at the pet store clientele disdainfully from his cage. Within six months of taking him home he'd grown into a heavy-set, brooding tom with a penchant for salmon who got pissy if I left him for too long. When I spent a week away last month he'd flatly refused to come near me on my return, sulking for two days before he relented with a lap nap. Generally an easy companion, he spent most of his time snoozing. His occasional screams brought me back to reality, never allowing me to turn in on myself for too long. I needed that.

It was late afternoon by the time I coasted past the Savage Falls welcome sign, the sun long since dipped below the altitudinous horizon. The mist, which would have burned off during the day, was beginning to resettle around the surrounding peaks. That was a familiar sight but the town itself had changed—the buildings were more numerous, larger and flashier, turning the photos I'd scanned online into boldfaced reality.

A Safeway supermarket with a giant parking lot stood at the southern end, and many of the non-historic buildings had been torn down and rebuilt over the years, including the police and FWP offices. Driving around some of the roads I remembered, my old elementary school was one of the few places which remained unaltered. Empty and lonely at this late hour, rust-colored leaves swirled about the courtyard in the chilly breeze and collected in piles at the edges of buildings and gutters. As it came into view, my return to Saffron Crowe buffeted me and I started to shake and become nauseated. I did not want to hang around in this area but was forced to pull over, lean against the steering wheel and wait for it to pass.

The first of the ghosts was greeting me and it was as unfriendly as expected.

The attack eased quickly and within minutes, I was able to continue my journey. I headed back to Bowden Street, the main road running through the middle of town, and pulled into the Health Center at the northern end, also newly built. Two other vehicles stood in the spacious parking area; the culture shock at having so much space occupied by so few people was extreme but not unpleasant. I sat in the driver's seat for a few minutes indulging in the feeling of empty expanse. Sometimes it scared me how an anxiety attack could switch so swiftly into a sensation of pleasure, but I would not sacrifice it.

At last, leaving the window open a crack, I got out and stretched lazily. I wasn't accustomed to driving much, let alone for long periods. The front door to the Center opened and a large, broad-shouldered man in a wrinkled suit emerged.

There she is! he yelled as he hastened toward me.

A local GP and probably my mother's only friend had gained weight, grey speckled his thinning hair at the temples and creases lined his face. The deep rumble of his voice and ready smile were still easily recognizable and I was flattered he was kind enough to greet me. My memories of Dr. Hamish Roche were far more cheerful than my memories of my mother, but I was still taken aback when he didn't hesitate to envelope me in an embrace. I patted his shoulder, unsure how to react—it had been twelve years, after all.

Hello Dr. Roche. Long time, no see.

We'd had little contact other than a few superficial emails and the fateful phone call three months ago to tell me my mother had been released from her mortal chains. He stood back and looked me over with a smile.

Little Saffy Crowe, he said affectionately. You were never shy about calling me Hamish, no need to start with formalities now you're all grown up. I delivered you, you know.

I remember.

You've turned into a stunning creature. He studied my face suspiciously. Have you had work done?

I... No. He watched me splutter and his face broke into a wicked grin, reminding me of all the banter we'd exchanged in my adolescence. I'd forgotten your dry sense of humor. You're very forgettable. I slipped quickly into the niche.

A useful trait to discourage long-term enemies, he returned and searched the car over my shoulder. Are you alone?

Did you expect an entourage?

You know, Cait told me you married. I raised my eyebrows in amusement and Hamish laughed. She did have her ways.

She sure did. She might have been just as big a liar as I was myself. Perhaps the only thing we had in common. I hoped anyway.

Haven't lost your American accent then. He took the opportunity to change the subject. Welcome home. He squeezed my shoulder again and I felt a bit like crying at the kindness in his voice. Come inside and we'll get you sorted out with keys and info.

The inside of the Center was rustic, dark-stained wood walls punctuated with large windows overlooking the outside greenery and paintings of equally green forest scenes.

It's an improvement on that ugly little clinic you used to work from, I commented.

Got two other doctors employed under me now too. Things have changed since you've been gone. I'm done with patients for the day. You have time for coffee and a chat?

All the time in the world. Guido was probably asleep.

Coffee please, Tania, he sang out to a woman behind a reception desk before leading me through to an ample, non-medical looking office. Perhaps he had an adjoining room where he did his examinations—the sheer size of everything from the barren stretch of carpeted floors to the ceilings high enough for a second floor, was impressive. He sat down behind a huge desk and I took a seat opposite. Leaning back, he rested his chin on his index fingers, narrowed his eyes, putting me under the microscope.

You've been gone a long time, he said solemnly. How was your trip?

That was an easy enough question.

The flights were awful, the drive beautiful. The temperature suits me.

That's not what I meant! he barked and I jumped and stared. I wasn't sure how seriously to treat him. Saffron Crowe, don't you dare pull wool over my eyes, he cautioned.

I'm not— I stopped. Perhaps I was pulling wool. God, did he really know me so well? Surely not, not after so long. What was he even asking?

Before I could come to any conclusion he reached both arms across his desk and demanded, Give me your hands.

Er... I tentatively pulled my chair close, leaned forward and put my hands inside his. Gripping them loosely, he shut his eyes and breathed in an extravagant manner. I don't know if it was meant that way, but the performance was whimsical.

You've changed, Saf. He made the announcement with an air of disappointment.

It's been twelve years, of course I've changed. I wiped the smile from my face and he shook his head impatiently.

You must be honest with me, he said, eyes still shut. Why are you back?

It was spooky that I wanted to answer this impertinent demand, but before I could respond the receptionist entered with a tray and placed it on the broad desk between us. The doctor finally opened his eyes and allowed me my hands back.

Close the door, please, Tania, he said as she scurried out with a secretive simper. When the door was firmly shut, he relaxed his face and leaned forward, a gleam in his eye. I waited, guarded. How long are you here for?

A month, maybe more. I'm not on a schedule, I'm here to slow down for a while and figure out what to do about the house.

Belen Abreu, he whispered reverently and my eyes widened in surprise. What are you running away from?

What am I meant to say to that? No wool. I thought I was coming back to confront things, I said tensely and he cackled at my discomfort.

Belen Abreu has made a name for herself in Mexico, but you keep your private life out of the public eye surprisingly well.

It's not so difficult, I'm not big. I'm a bit shocked you know the name.

Help yourself to sugar, he said with a sweeping gesture.

I'm not supposed to... What the hell. I added a heaped spoon to my steaming cup.

That a girl. Would it surprise you to learn that Cait was proud of her actress daughter?

I would never believe it. She hated me from the day I was born.

She didn't hate you, she was simply ill-equipped for motherhood. You were sent to your father for good reasons.

And I'll always be grateful to you for orchestrating that.

You knew it was because of me?

Of course I did. No one else understood what she was like. No one else cared. I took a sip and felt my eyes roll backward. Oh my god, that is good.

You're kept on a strict diet?

Strict everything.

Cait was a difficult woman right up until the end, he continued sadly, but in her own miserable way she took pride in you. She let comments slip every now and then. On the surface they were derogatory but, well, you knew her, she wasn't the type to talk about anything unless it interested her and she always had a little glint in her eye with you.

Before your phone call I'd heard nothing for over six months. And even then it was just one of her letters full of crazy talk. So crazy I never replied to it.

Guilt began to manifest at the image of my mother, lonely and bitter, talking about me with pride. How awful; I tried to wipe it from my mind and attempted to harden my tone.

Belen was left behind in Mexico, I'd rather you didn't use the name. It's unlikely anyone here would recognize it but still.

Understandable. He folded his hands on the desk in front of him and smiled gently again. You were always my favorite, I thought of you as family. Seeing you again, looking so wonderful, has made my year.

You counseled me through some tough times, went above and beyond. The depth of this truth came back as I sat looking at his kind face; it was hard to believe I'd lost a sense of the support he provided me with in my turbulent youth.

I hope you can still see me that way. I worried about you no end when you left, being in a foreign country at such a young age with a man you barely knew. But look at you, you've done amazing, made something of yourself. Your father treated you well?

He was a dream compared to Cait. He became my manager.

He didn't push you too hard, did he?

I didn't mind, it gave me something to concentrate on, a goal. The world I got pulled into in Mexico was very different. Having a father involved in the business made the transition easier but I think he was as surprised as me that I turned out to be okay at playing roles.

And how does he feel about his cash cow coming back here?

He's pissed I'm unavailable but I never told him where I was going. I brushed the question aside with a sniff. Tell me about Savage Falls. A lot seems to have changed in only a decade, is there anything I should know?

Well, he huffed, depends on what regard you ask in. There are many more anonymous faces who rent houses and cabins short and long term to get away from the rat-race, so people aren't all in each other's business the way they used to be. I wouldn't worry about being incognito, people are unlikely to recognize you as Saffron let alone Belen Abreu—you've changed too.

You knew who I was, I pointed out.

"Older and wiser than most and I was expecting you, waiting for you. You still have that unmistakable, haunted look in your eyes, I suppose it works to your advantage on screen."

I don't know, I shrugged. Maybe it's just being back that's put it there.

Must be strange. The town has grown, the residents have got wealthier; tourism has blossomed in winter due to the new ski facilities and resort. If you're wondering who is still here... He scratched his chin. I think many of the kids you grew up with have moved away but a good majority of them also come back for winter vacations. If you're going to be here a while you might run into them.

The suggestion would have been amusing if it wasn't so tragic.

I drove past the elementary school, it brought back some unfortunate feelings. I was picked on mercilessly at that place.

You seemed so impervious to it at the time, he said thoughtfully. Do you know why they picked on you?

The usual, I was different.

You didn't need them. You were comfortable being alone and they didn't understand that. As unfair as it sounds, I think you bothered them more than they bothered you—no matter how hard they tried they couldn't get a rise out of you.