I didn't kill the spider.

I just loosed a spider into the wild.

I can't remember the last time I did that because I don't think I've ever done that before.

I am usually terrified of spiders.

But a couple nights ago, I re-watched James and the Giant Peach; James Trotter didn't kill the spider. He protected the spider from his insane aunts Spiker and Sponge. Little did he know that later he would befriend it...her, rather, Miss. Spider.

So, tonight, I couldn't kill the spider because James Trotter didn't kill the spider- though the spider fell on my leg, I still tried to pick it up with a piece of paper but it refused, more terrified of me than I of it. Then I lost it** altogether, until a dance student found it across the room still scrambling away to safety. I lunged at it, wanting to save it from terrified squeals and spastic stomping feet.

I don't know that I rescued the little insect. It probably didn't feel very rescued. What small thing does when a giant reaches down for it?

More to the point: a movie based on one of my favorite children's stories influenced me to befriend- to take mercy upon- to rescue- not to kill- an otherwise scary and misunderstood animal.

Ah, I feel something that wants to be written.








**edit- 6 December: I did not 'lose it' in the sense of going stark, raving mad- I actually lost the spider. I couldn't find it, I was so sad.