"Would you like something to drink, sir? Some champagne perhaps?"

RSF considered, and nodded dismissively. "Sure." Some champagne would be nice, he supposed. He was glad to be leaving Mexico. He hadn't enjoyed his time there, he only went because his father had insisted on it. Father had visited Mexico when he was young and constantly raved about how great it was. RSF looked down at his right hand, at the polished gold ring on his third finger. Father had given it to him for his birthday several years before, he had worn the ring for as long as RSF could remember. Father called it his “lucky ring,” and he credited it for bringing him all of his success. RSF didn’t believe in luck, strangely. Nevertheless, RSF was thrilled when his dad finally passed the gold ring along from father to son. Father had given him lots of amazing gifts over the years, the ring was just one of them. This year, Father booked him a vacation in Mexico, all expenses paid. RSF considered himself an adept deal-hunter, and he couldn't turn down a free trip to Mexico, so he figured he might as well. That, and he had to find something to do between the Kentucky Derby and Cannes.

The stewardess returned with a glass of champagne. "What's the holdup here?" RSF asked, accepting the glass from her.

"My apologies, sir. There was a medical emergency. Our staff has been assisting a passenger, I think we'll be cleared to take off shortly." She seemed to be talking louder than was strictly necessary, probably hoping that the other passengers would overhear and stop bothering her for updates. She smiled and walked away. RSF muttered curses under his breath and slammed down the entire glass of champagne in one gulp.

Just then, a group of people emerged from the rear of the plane. It was the same group that had boarded the plane 20 minutes before, and they were wheeling a man down the aisle in a wheelchair. The man looked pale, his eyes were rolled back in his head, and he was slumped down awkwardly in the chair. He looked unconscious, and the people seemed to be moving him off the plane with some urgency, so RSF scooted his legs away from the aisle to make room. Minutes after the group exited the plane, the pilot announced that they were clear to take off. RSF sighed with relief.

RSF had managed to drag his friends Carson and Travis along with him to Mexico, but they cut their trip short and left two days before. They wanted to party it up and do the usual "ragin' bros" thing, which RSF was normally up for, but he just hadn't been in the mood for it since their day-trip to the ruins at Teotihuacan. During the day-trip, RSF became separated from the group and started wandering around by himself. He ducked into a small shop with a sign outside that, among other things, said "Cerveza," which immediately drew his interest. When he went inside, he was surprised to see the huge assortment of trinkets on display. Most were typical touristy junk, but there were also some impressive carved masks and figurines. He picked up one small statue of a fierce-looking warrior with a spider symbol across his chest.

The old woman behind the counter piped up "Ahhh. El Hombre de la Sombra, the Spider King!"

RSF glanced over at her. She looked to be about 200 years old, and had an awful toothless smile, and spotty wrinkled skin. "Who?" he asked.

The woman looked puzzled. "Jou do not know who thees eez?"

RSF shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I've never heard of him." As he moved he could see that the woman's gaze did not follow him. She was blind. So how did she know which figurine he was holding?

The woman cracked a mischevious smile. "Well do jou wan to hear abou' heem?"

RSF looked at his watch. "Sure," he said. Why not? He had some time to kill before his friends would wander back this way. "Dos cervezas, por favor." The woman grabbed two beers from the fridge behind her and opened them both, sliding them across the counter as RSF took a seat on the stool. Over the next few hours, the woman proceeded to tell RSF the legend of the Spider King.

* * *

As the story goes, there once was an ancient king - a "Tlatoani." For his swiftness and prowess in battle, he earned the nickname "Tocatl Tlatoani" or, "the Spider King." The Spider King ruled for years, and his people loved him. He was respected by all, and feared by all who threatened his power or his people. The kingdom enjoyed years of peace, prosperity, and even-handed justice under his rule. The people were elated when they learned that a male heir was born - "Long live Tocatlitua (the "Little Spider")!" they shouted. As the years wore on, though, it became apparent that the despite the Spider King's wisdom and impartiality when it came to matters of state, he had a blind spot when it came to his son. The child terrorized his handmaidens, mocked his teachers, and refused to obey anyone other than his father. The Spider King was blind to his son's shortcomings, only grinning and telling his frazzled servants that the child was Alaxuactl reborn - the fiery god of battle and strife. Other children didn't want to play with the Little Spider, and finding playmates took a great deal of coaxing from parents with high aspirations, who offered up their children in hopes of earning favor with the Spider King.

One day, the Little Spider wandered into a portion of the palace that was being rebuilt, despite being told repeatedly to stay away. While the Little Spider crept in the shadows watching the men working, the roof collapsed, killing the Little Spider, along with dozens of craftsmen. The Spider King was inconsolable, and he withdrew for days to his private quarters to mourn. After several days passed, the king stole away in the middle of the night without any word to his advisors or bodyguards. A city guard claimed that he saw the king heading north into the mountains. It was known among the people that the northern mountain ranges were inhabited by nomadic groups of Braxuacote - witches who practiced dark and evil magical arts. Days later, the Spider King returned, and declined to provide any explanation for his whereabouts. Over the next few weeks, things seemed to return to normal. A large public funeral was held for the Little Spider, and the Spider King returned to his duties. It seemed to the people that their king was recovering from the loss of his son, and everyone was greatly relieved. Over the next few months, however, the Spider King began disappearing without explanation. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days at a time. Each time when he eventually returned, it appeared to his advisors as though he was fatigued, as if he had been exerting himself physically. The absences grew longer and more frequent, and the king began to look increasingly weak upon his return. One absence lasted for several months, and during that time the Spider King's chief military officer assumed control of the government temporarily. When the Spider King finally returned, he was so weak he was unable to stand. He took to his bed for several hours, and disappeared again. He never returned to the palace. In the months that followed, there were scattered reports of people seeing the Spider King at various locations throughout the city, but none of those reports were confirmed. It seemed to everyone as though the Spider King had simply vanished.

Soon after the Spider King's final disappearance, the military chief permanently assumed the throne. Although the people missed the Spider King, they accepted their new king, and life continued as normal. Years later, one of the palace servants found a hidden compartment in the king's chambers that held one of the Spider King's private journals. The writings revealed what had befallen the Spider King in his final months. As many had suspected, during his trip into the northern mountains after his son's death, he came into contact with a Braxuacote tribe. In fact, he had sought them out. He begged the witches to restore his son's life, and offered any price in return. The witches told him that they lacked the power to bring the Little Spider back. However, the witches offered the king one last opportunity to see his son and say goodbye. According to the witches' religion, the souls of the newly-dead pass from the World of the Living to the Land of Shadow for one month. The Land of Shadow is the gateway world that lies between the World of the Living and the Kingdom of the Dead, and the recently deceased souls spend one month in the Land of Shadow so that their ties with the World of the Living can dissolve, and they can peacefully pass to the Kingdom of the Dead for eternity. The witches offered to let the Spider King use an ancient talisman that allows the wearer to utter a spell and temporarily visit the Land of Shadow. The Spider King agreed, and he visited his son in the Land of Shadow that night. He spent hours in the Land of the Shadow with his child, laughing and hugging him, crying and telling the Little Spider how much he missed him. The Little Spider appeared much as he was in life, though his spirit form appeared fainter, more like a ghostly reflection than a human being. When he returned to the World of the Living several hours later, the king's grief overcame him. He slaughtered all of the witches so that he could steal the talisman and keep it for himself. He returned to his palace with the talisman, and from that day forward he began visiting his Little Spider nightly.

Despite his nightly visits, the king felt his son slipping away. The Little Spider's bonds to the World of the Living were becoming weaker by the day, and the king knew he would soon lose his son to the Kingdom of the Dead forever. The king mourned, and stewed over the problem even as he was forced to return to his official duties. Around this time, the Spider King attended a public execution of several convicted criminals. The king sat on the dais behind the condemned, and as the first criminal's head was hacked off, the king felt the witches' talisman twitch. The king ignored it at first, but with each successive execution, he felt the talisman twitch again and again. Puzzled by this, the king nevertheless continued on with his duties for the day, returning to his private chambers that evening. He planned to visit his son in the Land of Shadow, perhaps for the last time.

When the king used the talisman to enter the Land of Shadow that night, he was shocked when he saw his son. The Little Spider's appearance had deteriorated significantly. He was pale, lethargic, and the outline of his spirit was hazy and indistinct. He was nearly gone, the king knew. Just then, the king was surprised to notice that there were several other spirits swirling in the air around him, seemingly bound to the witches' talisman. As he moved the talisman back and forth, the swirling spirits seemed to follow it, like moths flitting around an open flame. He recognized the faces of the spirits, they were the men who had been put to death that afternoon. Suddenly and without warning, the Little Spider sprang to life and pounced on the swirling spirits, devouring them all within seconds. The king was stunned, unable to comprehend what he had just seen. It appeared as though the Little Spider had inhaled the spirits, consuming their life force, destroying them. The Little Spider's visage immediately became clearer and more defined. His face returned to its normal color, his appearance restored to what it had been when the Spider King first visited him during his trip to the mountains. The Spider King was shocked, but relieved to see his son recover so quickly.

In the coming months, the king figured out that the witches' talisman could be used to capture the souls of the recently dead as long as the Spider King was near their bodies in the hours that followed their death. Once bound by the talisman, the king could take the captured souls into the Land of Shadow and feed them to his Little Spider with ease. He also found that the talisman gave him a strange sense of where and when tragedy would strike, as though it sensed death and suffering, and drew the Spider King towards it. This was extraordinarily helpful, because as long as the king provided his son with a steady stream of spirits to consume, the Little Spider remained firmly in the Land of Shadow, and never passed beyond into the Kingdom of the Dead. The king believed that he had conquered death, and that his Little Spider would remain in the Land of Shadow until the king died, and they could then pass into the Kingdom of the Dead together. The king visited often, feeding his Little Spider, and spending hours in the Land of Shadow playing games and laughing with the boy.

The king's journal only hinted at what was to come, however. Had he not slaughtered the witches, they would have told him that visiting the Land of Shadow too frequently will disrupt a person's connection to the World of the Living, and that over time the king would begin to have difficulty remaining in the World of the Living. As the months passed, the king continued visiting the Little Spider regularly, even as it became more and more difficult to remain in the World of the Living. Eventually, his ability to remain in the World of the Living became limited to mere minutes at a time, and then mere seconds. And because the Spider King never died a natural death, he could never pass to the Kingdom of the Dead. Thus, the king soon found himself trapped forever in the Land of Shadow, only able to briefly visit the World of the Living in order to collect newly-dead souls for his Little Spider to consume. Due to his grief, he remained unable to let his child move on to the Kingdom of the Dead. So, the Spider King and his son remained there forever, trapped together in the Land of Shadows.

The old woman told RSF that the legend persisted to this day, and modern inhabitants of the area often report that when tragedy strikes and several people die, an unsettling presence can be felt, and a shadowy figure can often be glimpsed out of the corner of one's eye, only to slip away too quickly to be spotted. People believe that the Shadow Man, "El Hombre de la Sombra," is the Spider King. His connection to the World of the Living is so tenuous that he now appears only as dark, faint shadow, creeping silently around the bodies of the dead, before disappearing into thin air. He can be found wherever there is death and destruction, reaping his harvest of suffering and misery of others, filling the witches' talisman with fresh souls, and returning to the darkness to feed the spoils to his son, "El Chico de la Sombra," the Shadow Child, his Little Spider.

* * *

"Another glass of champagne, sir?" RSF snapped back to reality. He was on the plane. First class, as usual. He shook his head and the stewardess walked away. His mind had wandered back to the old crone's tale of the Spider King, the Shadow Man. There was something about the woman's tale that had disturbed him deeply, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He went through about 15 beers while the woman was telling the story, and he was hammered by the time his friends finally found him and dragged him back to their hotel. In the days that followed, RSF refused to leave his room. He couldn't explain why, and his friends quickly lost patience with him and took off for... somewhere else, who knows? He stayed in his room for the rest of the week, only emerging to check out of the hotel and head straight to the airport to catch his flight. Ever since he heard the legend of the Spider King, he had felt an unsettling presence around him. He couldn't articulate it or even understand it completely, but he just felt as though he was being watched, that he wasn't alone. And even more disturbing is that he felt that he'd had this sensation for years, but only noticed it now, like a small wound that suddenly grabs your attention and makes you realize you've been in pain for several minutes. RSF glanced down at his father’s gold ring. He couldn't escape the sense that the ring was connected to his feelings of unease.

"La araña!" the woman across the aisle shouted at RSF. He looked over, and nearly jumped out of his skin. It was the old crone from the store. She cracked that awful toothless grin and, despite her sightless gaze, she pointed her thin gnarled finger directly at the ring on RSF's right hand. "Ese anillo pertenece a las brujas!! Nuestra talismán!! Los muertos están viendo!!" she shrieked over and over again. Her unseeing eyes lit up like two blood-red orbs, emitting a piercing red light that flooded the entire cabin. She continued shrieking at the top of her lungs. Panicked, RSF shot a glance towards the front of the plane, looking for help, looking for answers, looking for anything. No one else in his section reacted to the woman's shouts, no one turned around to look at what was happening, no one seemed to be reacting at all.

Just as quickly as it started, the woman's shrieking stopped. The bright red light dissipated.

RSF looked back across the aisle and the seat was empty. The woman was gone. He jumped up into the aisle and looked from the cockpit to his right and then to the rear of the plane to his left. The old woman was nowhere to be seen. Impossible.

"Sir, please take your seat. We're about to push off from the gate and you need to be seated." RSF turned to face the stewardess, and she gasped when she saw him. "Sir!? Are you alright? You are pale as a ghost!"

RSF slowed his panicked breathing, trying to regain his composure. "Umm, yeah. Ok. Sorry. Yes, I'm fine, I think I just uh," he looked down at his tray table and his empty champagne glass, "I think I just drank my champagne a little too fast, I got lightheaded for a second."

The stewardess looked relieved. "Oh, I see. Alright well please let me know if there's anything I can do to help," and she walked past him.

RSF slumped down into his chair and fastened his seatbelt. Minutes later, the plane lifted off from the runway, with RSF on board, borne aloft on the tears and suffering of countless widows and orphans, an invisible miles-wide sphere of restless spirits swirling around him, begging noiselessly for release.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2883659&forum_id=2id.#27916784)

although you were the inspiration behind the post, it's not "about" you

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2883659&forum_id=2id.#28112560)

*gives an understanding nod two paragraphs later*

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2883659&forum_id=2id.#27917156)

also, rsf GAPED

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2883659&forum_id=2id.#29402728)

Loled at this line. 180.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2883659&forum_id=2id.#29419155)

180.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2883659&forum_id=2id.#31905915)

ljl @ this clown

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2883659&forum_id=2id.#33054618)

180

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2883659&forum_id=2id.#33054654)

🤣

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2883659&forum_id=2id.#48950379)