The Guardian ... Huntsman?

I hated spiders. End of discussion. Don’t ask me why, but I did.

So when I turned 16, I prayed that I’d get something cool, like a tiger - such as my elder brother had received on his 16th birthday - or even a flamingo, which my younger brother had received on his 16th. Hell, I’d have settled for a meerkat. My twin - 10 minutes older than me - had been greeted with the cute little critter upon awakening, and her squeals of delight filled the whole house. Soon she and Marley were chatting animatedly - albeit a one-sided conversation, since guardian animals communicate telepathically. Even so, it was a heartwarming sound, and I smiled as I stretched. 10 minutes had passed, and finally, it was my turn.

Suffice to say, Mum had always said I had the temper of an angel and the mouth of a sailor. According to my siblings, though, the words I used upon seeing my guardian creature would have put even Grandpa to shame. And he had a mouth which put his grandpa to shame.

But eventually my swearing died off. Not because I’d run out of words, but because my new guardian was actually laughing!

’Oh lord,’ he/she gasped. ’I have never heard such a collection of rude words used so creatively! And you barely paused for breath!’

I glared at them . “Is this some sort of joke?” I demanded angrily.

’Hey,’ they said indignantly. ’I didn’t have a choice either. I’m just as annoyed as you.’

For some reason I felt ashamed. “Sorry, ” I muttered. “I don’t really like spiders. Jerry - that’s my older brother - decided it’d be a real lark to throw a fake spider in my face when I was five.”

The spider didn’t look too happy. “That was a rotten trick,” they agreed. “But spiders aren’t all that bad. Heck, even the most poisonous of my kin are really the nicest around. It’s the daddy-long-legs you gotta watch out for. They’re mean mother-’

“Woah,” I interrupted. “We only need one foul mouthed person in this conversation.”

I paused. This was really weird. But I wasn’t as scared as I’d first been. Maybe it was because the spider - the huntsman - was just sitting on the rail of my bunk. Or maybe it was because they reminded me so much of Dad. They had the same intonation, and in some ways, the same way of looking at life.

I decided then and there I was going to trust this spider. Maybe there was some truth in the theory that a guardian creature sometimes contained the soul of a loved one who’d passed on, thus creating a way for the human to have their loved one close again. Dad and I had been very close when he was alive, so if it was true....

“Can I call you Harry?” I asked.

He looked surprised, and then smiled spider fashion. And despite being a spider, that smile really reminded me of Dad. I was definitely convinced it *was* Dad. And his next words confirmed it.

’Good to see you, kid,’ he said, stretching one leg out. I smiled and touched it with my fingertip, “shaking” on our reunion.

“I missed you,” I said, blinking back unexpected tears. Dad had that effect.

He chuckled. ’Missed you too,’ he said. ’So, what’s for breakfast?’

I had to laugh. “Bacon and eggs, with fried tomatoes and sourdough bread, what else?”

Dad rubbed two legs together. ’Race you downstairs,’ he teased, before skittering up the wall, across the ceiling, and out the door. I laughed again, feeling lighter of heart for the first time in six months. Boy, Mum and my siblings were in for a shock, I thought gleefully, as I literally jumped out of bed and sprinted out the door in pursuit of my arachnified father.

This was going to be one hell of an adventure. Who needed tigers, flamingoes or meerkats when one had the best spider in Hammersmith?

I did resolve to find out about the daddy-long-legs though. Right now, breakfast and another reunion waited downstairs.