sorry for the crammed paragraphs, its certainly not my fault its like that. :P enjoy!!
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Glen Arachnid stood outside on the porch of his England home. It was a mansion right smack in the middle of a court location, but the porch was without a roof. The weather was that of a down pour, so he held an umbrella that domed over his head. It was shaped like a spider, with its legs stretching down with flaps of skin in between to protect against the rain. The only good spider, Glen thought.
He was only ten years old, with enough trust from his parents, who trusted everything by the way, to stay home alone. That particular day he stood out in the rain, he was waiting for them to come home from a dinner rated 'adults only.'�
His fancy attire was soaked despite the protective spider above him; he had been standing on his porch for more than half an hour. His straight black hair had been straightened even further by the water, and it ran onto his black suit.
He held his favourite hat in his hand'his derby, and shielded it. His grandpa gave it to him before he passed on, so he treasured it like a pirate would treasure his riches. A few drops of water would bead onto it now and then, but it wasn't bad enough to make him panic.
On the streets, cars passed him and he watched as the people inside glared at him with disgust as the young boy stood on his own outside of a giant house. Most of the people in his neighborhood were snobs, and would only be concerned about someone so young being alone if they disliked the parents, which most people did.
They owned the only factory in their town of Grass Hill. It was a gear factory, and they were shipped all over the world to help machines in need; that of which Glen would often brag about, though no one seemed to care. They were extremely rich, but their lack for a roof to the porch of their house was only because of the taste they owned in architecture. They didn't like the idea of being cramped inside and outside, so they simply disposed of the roof to add more 'freedom.'�
Glen pulled out a pocket watch after so long, and it read a late time. He wasn't surprised though, it was already night the time he had walked outside to wait, and the moon could be hazily seen through the beads of rain that drenched the streets. The moon peaked through thin clouds that unnaturally were filled with tears for the evening. He waited for another few minutes until he realized the spider he was holding wasn't protecting him anymore. He dropped it, and let the rain pour down. He knew he would catch a cold, but he was used to them after they're parents bad taste led to 'I don't like the look of the fireplace.'� Glen wouldn't brag about that often; he would actually scold his parents behind their backs for it.
From the dark of the street, and the black and white effect of the evening, came a bright red car that lazily pulled in front of Glen's mansion. Two men wearing jackets to match their car, one short and one tall, came out and approached the boy who stood clueless on the porch. They too held umbrellas, the strangest he had ever seen. They were the most dome-like and spider shaped of them all, he thought. He picked up his own as they slowly walked the steps of his house, and then bowed in unity.
'Excuse me, son, I hope we're not interrupting any feelings of glee or excitement, but we bear terrible news.'� The short one said.
The tall one nodded, 'Very terrible indeed.'�
'It's about your parents,'� The short one began.
'Your fair parents,'� added the tall one. They both took off their hats and placed them on their chests and told Glen his parent's car was found smashed on the side of the road close to the factory, and that they were nowhere to be found. They bowed again and apologized, putting their red derbies back onto their heads, and headed down the stairs. By the time they reached their bright red car, Glen had already dropped his umbrella again. His face was expressionless, as he watched the strange men pull away from the dark surrounding of his dead-end road.
Glen creaked open the big wooden door of his home, and marched inside. He marched up the left staircase in the lobby, and he marched into his room. He slammed the door behind him and put his back against it, sluggishly slinking to the floor. Tears reached his eyes before long' he was now without parents at the age of ten.
Water drenched the cherry wood floor as it crept off his jacket to form little puddles. His room seemed empty now, as everything he owned was bought by his parents. His bed, was dust, his dresser, nothing. His toys and closets, gone. Everything had no value now he didn't have parents.
Feelings of guilt soon flooded his mind as he remembered that he often had thoughts of running away while his parents were still alive. His anger built up while he sat, back against the door, and his attention was drawn to his bed sheets, which meant nothing to him by the way.
His thoughts he conjured up about running away always associated tying bed sheets together and throwing them out the window'so that's exactly what he did.
By the time he had them all in a row, he was furious. Tears ran down his face and he jerked open his window. The rain had turned into a thunderstorm, sharing his anger. The lightning crashed outside, and he took a final look into his room before he leapt out the window, the bed sheets being his rope. He landed on the ground and looked up at his window. This was the get away for him, even though he could've easily walked out the front door. He walked to the porch and grabbed his umbrella, swung it over his head, and trumped down the road.
*
At the same time, the two men with bright red jackets who delivered the 'bad news,'� were heading toward the graveyard placed on the hill of Grass Hill. Their umbrellas fended off the rain as they always did, and they continued down the now mud road of the graveyard. Both of them hummed a tune they were familiar with, the song of Spiders with Umbrellas.
The Spiders with Umbrellas were a group who fancied red. It was a color of power, which was exactly what they sought. They're spider-like umbrellas were a symbol of their specific meeting time; when it rains. They would arrange meetings at the graveyard when the news would announce a storm, but no planning would be made if it was to be a false alarm.
The short one leaned on the last gate to pass through before they reached the top of the hill, and opened it with a small key shaped like spider legs. The tall one bowed in thanks and continued through, followed by the short one. Most of the group was already at the top waiting, each dressed the same as the other' bright red suits and derbies.
'How did it go?'� One of them said to the short one. He took off his hat and bowed to his leader.
'It went well Mr. Arachnid, you're not worried about your son?'�
'Not if he's well out of the way to our plans.'� His face was blank, his moustache almost covering his mouth. His wife was gripping his left arm, her face also blank. It was pale and simple, her kind eyes didn't seem fit to have no expression.
The short one bowed and took his place among the group, trailed by the tall one. Mr. Arachnid looked over his rag-tag group of power hungry performers, and then gave a slight grin. 'So this is it then, very well. Let's get on with planning.'�
One of the men, a little shorter than Arachnid, but with a fatter face, spoke up. 'The gear factory then, your flow of money Arachnid. . .you're sure you want to shut it down?'�
'Positive.'� Was the reply. His wife nodded as well. 'We've got no interest in money, we won't need it by the time we're through.'� The group began to silently discuss the comment. No money didn't seem to be a good idea. Arachnid put up his gloved hand to silent the group. 'Think about it gentlemen. Power is much more valuable. Money won't be an object by the time everything we want will be in our grasp.'� He began to pace about and around the little circle of henchman. 'Everything you've ever wanted, will be given to you just by asking. We'll own this land, and the land beyond that, and even beyond that. One piece for you.'� He said, handing off a cracker to his comrade. The fat faced once looked up at his boss in confusion. He only smiled and continued. 'Think of this as your land. One for you, and you, and even you.'� He stood back in his place among the group after handing a cracker to every one of them. '. . .Now eat it.'�
There was a silence, and no one moved. They looked from one to the other. '. . .Well, what are you waiting for?'� Arachnid asked sluggishly.
They didn't give any second thoughts and wolfed the crackers without speaking. When it was done, they looked to Arachnid and waited for a response.
'How was it?'� He asked them, smiling. 'Was it easy?'� Then, a thin man in the group looked around at everyone, seeing who would answer, but no one would. He spoke up in a rather harsh tone towards the leader.
'What is this Arachnid? Are you making a fool out of us?'� He said, his arms up in the air, his umbrella not blocking him any further. 'What is he doing?'� He turned and paced the circle of people, looking them all dead in the face while he spoke. 'You've all eaten a cracker, isn't that splendid. . .'� He said, dropping his arms in sarcasm. He then turned to face him again. 'Got any more for us Arachnid? Polly got a cracker? Why don't you ask us?'� He then stopped and looked him in the face as well as he heard the caulking of a gun.
'I suppose you didn't like your piece of land then?'� He said, no expression. 'You don't need it then.'� And he shot the thin man. He fell to the ground, bleeding the color of power. They all looked down at him, then back up to their boss. 'Now tell me again!'� He said louder. 'Was. . .it. . . easy!?'�
They all nodded, not causing any more trouble. Arachnid chuckled, 'Exactly, now let's head onto the factory and do what needs to be done. Power is within our grasp, now let's take it, and live off the fat of it.'�
*
Glen sat with his back against a gravestone that night, completely clueless that only a few yards away, at the top of the hill, his mother and father had gathered with a group of strangers. His grief had him ignoring the gun shot, it was only a crash of thunder to him. He stared off at the town, while he was a ways up the hill, high enough to have a nice view. He watched the lightning bolts hit the poles set up to purposely keep the town safe. It was a nice sight, but not that night. Everything was miserable through the eyes of Glen. He looked up at the sky to see if the clouds were on their way out of town, when he saw a shining light through the rain. It was the only star twinkling through, and it was large. Glen stood up as it got bigger and bigger slowly. Then it descended towards him faster, so his eyes widened and he put up his umbrella with a hope it would protect him. It came faster and faster, and it made a whistling noise that filled the air. He also heard a gasp of breaths coming from up the hill, and he glanced up to see silhouettes of a small group of people looking in the same direction he was. One of them saw the boy, and motioned his group to follow him out of the graveyard. Glen had enough time to watch them leave before he turned his attention to the falling star once again.
There was no more whistling now, and it was no longer falling, but the star he had spotted had landed right in front of him, without touching the ground. It floated in mid air, casting a glow onto Glen. He dropped his umbrella, and didn't feel the rain pelting down. His curiosity and astonishment caused him to reach out and grab at the light, but his fingers slipped through it and was engulfed by it. It slid up his arm and crept onto his body, slowly spreading a feeling of lightheadedness. He dropped forwards while he fainted, and fell into the light.
*
Glen woke up in a warehouse, lying on a metal sheet several floors up. He looked around and ran a hand through his hair. It was shorter than he remembered, and the sigh he let out was lower as well. He grabbed his throat in surprise of his sudden gasp of a low voice. He looked down at his hands and they were bigger, with hair beginning to sprout through. He put his hand to his mouth and felt the thin beard on his face. All he knew was that he was much older, and he didn't like it all.
He ignored it for a moment, as he needed to get down from where he was to figure out what exactly had happened. He grabbed the side of the platform he was on, and began to descend using the rods sticking out as a ladder. By the time he reached the bottom, he had a better view of the ground. Everyone he passed gave him an odd glare, but he ignored them, he wanted to find a way out of the warehouse more than anything. He walked up to a man pulling a U-boat, and asked him where the exit was. There were no words, but a finger, pointing in a northwest direction. Glen nodded his head towards him and headed in the now desired way.
It was a seemingly short walk to the lighted door, there was a lot on the boy's mind; the fact he was a boy still even scared him. He kept out the door and continued on a familiar road, but looked back at the warehouse; it wasn't there last he remembered. He continued on, but stopped half-way into town to look at his hands again. His current age was unknown, he needed to find a date on a stamp perhaps. He kept down the road, and the town in the distance became clearer; it was burning, which was odd.
Wait. . .he thought, It's BURNING! He started into a run into the town he called home. Fear struck his heart as he beat the road away and turned corners until he reached the court where his Mansion was sitting at the end. Their were no flames in the court, and as he ran towards his home, he felt drops of rain begin to follow him down the road. The lights that circled the area were crashed, they were no longer going to cast their mysterious glow. Their were vines growing up the walls of the Arachnid mansion, which certainly weren't there the night Glen ran away.
That's right, Glen thought, I ran away last night! What's happened? And he ran up the roofless porch to slam the door open. He tried it a few times, but it was unsuccessful. A few moments later, the maid came down after disapproving of Glen's harsh knocking.
'What do you zink you are doing?'� She said in a french accent. Her dress was black, and she held a dusting mop in her hand' the typical maid. Glen found she was attractive, which he never used to find when he was 'younger.'�
'I was um. . .attempting to break and enter into my own house, thank you very much.'� He replied.
'No no no, this iz the house of the Arachnidz. They do not like visitorz.'�
'You don't understand.'� Glen pleaded. 'This is my house, my parents died yesterday and. . .'� Then he stopped himself as she mumbled something while he thought. If he was older, it wasn't yesterday. He needed a different approach. After only a few seconds of thought, he agreed on his first idea.
'Excuse me,'� He said, and pushed past her. She screamed and beat him with her dust mop, but he ignored her, sneezing now and then. What's happened to my home? And just who is living here?
He stormed up the stairs that creaked as he walked, and slipped into a door, locking it behind him. He heard the maid run away in fright, but he didn't care. He was now in a secret passage he mad made that got him around in short cuts to certain rooms, including his father's study.
By the time he reached the part of wall that lead into the study, he heard voices coming from inside. He didn't pay attention to them though, all he cared about was that someone was invading his deceased father's personal space. He stormed through the door and ran to the office desk without looking at the men's faces, until he reached it of course. He saw the man sitting in his own chair, in his own study, doing what he did most of the time.
'. . .Dad.'�
'Glen?'�
There was a silence, and the man standing beside Mr. Arachnid began to force Glen out of the room. Glen didn't say anything, only stared. His father stood up and put up a gloved hand, stopping the man's progress, returning the stare at his son. He wore red, something Glen had never seen him wear. A golden spider shaped badge was on his shoulder, and his red derby sat on the table. 'It's been, a long time.'� He sighed. Glen didn't say anything. He pushed away the arms of the man who didn't try to resist, and he walked up to his father, staring him right in the face.
'You were dead.'� He suddenly said angrily. 'You make me sick! How could you LIE!?'�
His father soon straightened up and brushed his sleeve, nodding to the man accompanying him. The man returned the nod and began to force Glen out again.
'No! Stop this dad, why did you lie!?'� Tears reached his eyes and he could barely say it again, 'Why did you liiiieee!!!??'�
The door was shut in his face when he tried to re-enter the room. He pounded his fists on the door until he turned to see a woman beside him. Anger flew into his heart again as he cried, and he grasped her in a hug.
'Mom! Why did you lie!?'� He begged for an answer while he hugged her. She hugged him back, but said nothing, and didn't respond by crying with him. After a minute of asking again and again why she lied, he looked up at her expressionless face. He saw a tear as she walked past him, but she never wept, but was serious. She always used to be, but never like that.
Glen stood for a moment until she turned the corner of the hallway. He punched the door with the side of his fist one last time and ran out of the house into a thunderstorm. It looked all too familiar' the night he was waiting for his parents to return from a dinner. He looked at the ground as something caught his eye. It was his umbrella, and anger only grew as he looked at it. He kicked it out of his path and ran out farther to get a good look at his mansion. There were bed sheets peaking out of the window, tied like they were used as a rope. He cried harder then before as he ran up the road to his parent's gear factory. It was no longer what it used to be, but was now a pointed building, flowing into the sky with wires and cables hanging out and hallways connecting many different rooms that seemingly were floating in mid air. It was an evil sight, and he hated it.
A man approached him that sported the same attire as his father, and glanced at Glen. He was short, with a familiar face. He didn't say a word, but stood beside him.
'What is this?'� Glen gasped.
'It's'
'What year is this?'� Glen continued, turning sharply to the short man. He was shocked at how familiar he was.
'I remember you. You're Arachnid's boy. Im terribly sorry I lied about your parents, but who can really be trusted these days.'�
'You're sick.'� Was all that Glen could say. The man laughed.
'I'm power hungry. And it's exactly what I got. See my jacket? It led to power.'� He then stopped and handed his umbrella over to Glen. 'I've got a spare, you look like hell all drenched like that.'� Glen pushed it away as he kept a stare on the building that was once a proud gear factory. The short man turned to look at it as well.
'We own the world, Glen.'� He began. 'It's too bad you had to run away.'�
Those words struck a memory in Glen's brain. He ran away last night, or so it seemed, but there was more. There was a star, and there was light. There was a dizzy feeling, and he woke up years later.
'This isn't real.'� Glen gasped and turned to run for the graveyard. He ran past everyone who tried to stop him and ask him what was wrong. He had one destination in mind, there was no stopping him until he reached it.
He kept going past the gates, and jumped the last one that blocked his way onto the top of the hill. He saw a deep glow coming from behind a cross tombstone at the top, and he looked behind it, to see the shining star that was there the night before. His eyes widened as everything seemed to clear up. So this is the future. . .he thought. He turned to look down the hill at the town, and watched the gear factory swaying in the distance. He smiled, and knew what he had to do. He turned back to the star and reached out for it, letting it drift onto his skin, and give him the lightheadedness he had felt before.
*
When Glens eyes reopened, he was standing on the roofless porch of his mansion, with his spider umbrella in his hand. It was raining, and a bright red car was pulling up in front of his house. It was an odd sight against the dark surroundings and black and white effect of the court. He looked down at his hands, they were smaller, and without hair. He was ten again, and he sighed relief.
The men with red jackets, one short and one tall, walked up the stairs to the porch, and bowed in unity, both holding umbrellas that were the strangest of them all. Glen only smiled at them, they were confused and ignored his glee as the short one said, 'Excuse me, son, I hope I'm not interrupting any feelings of glee or excitement, but I bear terrible news.'�
'Very terrible ind'
'My parents aren't dead.'� Glen interrupted, smiling. The two men then suddenly jumped with shock. How did he know? The short one coughed and looked at his comrade.
'I'm sorry, I must inform you that they are indeed dead and'
'What? Their car was found smashed on the side of the road? And they were no where to be found? Right? I know my dad is sitting in his office chair in the gear factory.'�
'Wrong, he's waiting for us in the graveyard so we can make our plans.'� The tall one said, with a hand following into his stomach. It was the short one's, which was accounting for punishment of what he said. Glen only smiled, and began to walk down the porch saying,
'I thought so.'�
Glen ran to the gear factory, and up the flights of stairs without any interruptions. He glided down the hallway and landed himself in front of his father's office. He looked up at the sign reading 'Mr. Arachnid and Company'� while he listened to the subtle voices inside. He grinned a bit, them marched inside. The door was surprisingly unlocked, but he didn't pay too much attention to it.
Mr. Arachnid immediately stood up while discussing plans with his co-worker, at the surprising visit of his son. 'Glen! What on earth?'�
'Thought you could pull the wall over my eyes eh dad?'� Glen replied fast. 'You want the world? That's not a very nice thing for a man to want.'�
'Go home, Glen. You're ten years old, you don't understand.'�
'No, I don't think you understand Dad. I've seen what's going to happen. Our town was burning. I didn't like it every much.'� Glen said, walking towards his father, keeping a calm tone. He was very mature for his age, too mature for even his father.
'Take him out of here!'� He shouted towards his guards. Two men that towered over him wearing red, suit jackets. They stormed towards him and effortlessly picked him up; the only thing to worry about was his struggling.
'I hate you dad! I hate you and your stupid plans!'� He yelled. And those words changed everything. Mr. Arachnid slumped into his chair while putting a gloved hand into the air, stopping the men's actions. He was deeply hurt to hear these words, and everything he ever dreamed of doing was crashing before him. All he ever wanted was to see his son proud of him, but when he had his henchmen tell his son he had died, it had gone too far. 'I hate you,'� was a turn point. He realized suddenly that power meant nothing as long as his family was at risk. If he couldn't share it with his son, he didn't want it. He then looked up, tears in his eyes.
'Yes, Glen, I'm sorry. Go home, I won't do this any longer.'� He said simply, and ushered the men to take him home. Glen was completely surprised, and shocked that all he had to say was he hated his father, to make everything better.
*
Years went by and everything was fine, until one day Glen woke up several feet up, on a metal sheet in a warehouse. He couldn't remember how he got there, but he ran a hand through his hair and noticed it was shorter, and his face was sprouting hair. His hands were bigger as well, and his voice was much lower. His heart began to race and he launched himself to the ground, running for the door. By the time he reached outside, he had already dropped to his knees in shock. His town was on fire, and a dark building that flowed toward the sky, with many cables and wires hanging out, was standing in the middle. Maybe the power his father had dreamed for came to him, after all.

End.

Nathan Malec

Dec. 18/06

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