Lisa's Story

Ding. Dong. Ding. The great big grandfather clock rang loudly twelve times with a tintinnabulation trailing behind each ding and dong. It was almost like an old ballad singer bellowing out a tune for anyone who would listen to the lyrics of an ancient bristly bearded man. On the last chime, Lisa awoke gently after rubbing way the dust from her eyes that the Sandman had sprinkled there. She was having a lovely visit in the Land of Nod before Mr. Grandfather Clock woke her up with his echoing tune. 


She shuttered as she yawned deeply, then she reached for the downy quilt that instantly warmed her up in a cozy, toasty sort of way. It had slipped below her chin, once, twice, and three times without the help of any visible thing. Finally she sat up, realizing it was very cold and awfully silent. In fact, it was so silent that Lisa could hear soft thudding noises coming from outside her window. She stared curiously at the closed shade, wondering what could possibly be awake at this hour in the freezing cold making such sounds against her window. 


Quite puzzled, Lisa swung her fuzzy stocking feet from under her Winnie the Pooh quilt, and tiptoed very sneakily over to her windowsill. Her woolen onesie made no noise as she rose onto her toes, snatched the the hanging sting, then pulled lightly. As her body lowered back onto her heels, the shade of her window went up and the moonlight spilled through the glass panes, streaking across the stockings on her feet. Her eyes followed the moonbeams all the way to her bed until suddenly, without warning, a shadow had intruded into her room and laid in an odd shape across her bed. 


There was one big black blotch staining her bed with four bent lines protruding from each side. All eight of them wiggled at her. There was a string coming down that connected to the top of the blotch and suspended it like a puppet. It began to swing like a pendulum, much like the golden disc in the grandfather clock, back and forth, stretching down onto her floor, back to her bed, then again on her floor. Behind her the thudding noise commenced again, and when she turned around, Lisa was surprised to see a very tiny spider swaying on the other side of her window! 


It was a very bizarre thing, to see a black spider with bright red speckles that glimmered like jewels in the moonlight. On each of his legs, just above the ends, were eight itty-bitty shirt cuffs that were buttoned by links designed like snowflakes. It's foremost right leg clutched a match-sized baton, and sitting, or rather falling, in a lopsided position on its fuzzy round head was a miniature top hat. It was tilted to the left and altogether fashionable. This spider must be some sort of high up figure, thought Lisa. Falling from somewhere in the sky, a thin silver light trailed down a nearly invisible sting that was trapped between the spider's feet in the very back. Lisa smiled, it seemed, a million times as her reflection was mirrored in its honeycomb eyes the color of black glass, but the absence of a mouth was somewhat startling to her. Perhaps it was the flooding of the night that hid the spider's teeny mouth. Imagine the size of it's teeth!

Lisa smiled at the spider sheepishly while pressing her little hand against the window. Her untamed blond locks shrouded her right eye. As if in response to her kind gesture, the spider waved the baton in back and forth, indicating to Lisa that he wanted her to follow. Then it extended its back legs straight, stretched the silver string that dangled from the sky, and shot high into the air! The spider bounced once, then twice, and finally a third time before the string snapped! Lisa was scared for the strange spider, but just as the string had broken, a snowy wind caught it in a drift and carried the spider towards the wooded area that was lined along her backyard. A long extension of the string dangled from the back of the spider as he rode the wind. It was only then, as the spider floated away on a current, that Lisa noticed the blanket of untouched snow that had coated her whole yard. It glistened in the moon light as if tiny crystals were embedded in the surface of pure white that stretched across the grass and piled in mounds on the naked branches of the forest.

In a hurry, Lisa pulled her arm and head through her favorite maroon jumper then covered her ears with peach colored earmuffs. Her hands were tucked snugly into two mismatched mittens that were different shades of green. She was in such a rush that she had to first fix her trousers which she had put on backwards after a laborious fit of hopping and pulling. Finally she stomped her feet into her red winter boots, wrapped a light blue scarf around her neck, then threw up the window sash. Her boots sunk deep into the snow after she jumped from her window, and the wind immediately froze her cheeks into a rosy pink. She looked hard for the spider through the thick snowflakes drifting down lazily. They landed on her eyelashes and melted in a heartbeat. She began to worry that she had lost the spider forever, but just as she was about to climb back into her window, she spotted something red shining in the trees straight ahead. 


Without hesitating, she took off quickly, running as fast as could before the wind blew the spider away again. Her whole body from head to toe warmed up considerably as the layers of clothing trapped her heat inside. Her breath made visible puffs of clouds in front of her. Closer and closer the spider came! She could just see his lopsided top hat when WHOOSH, the wind gushed in and wafted the spider farther into the woods. Lisa's curlicue hair whipped across her face, blinding her from everything, but luckily some of her strands were tangled with the spider's silver string. She snatched it, held tight to it, and let it guide her over fallen branches, around giant trees, and through a valley of snow. 


For a long time she followed the sparkling red jewels studded in the spider's back. To the left and right of her, glowing eyes of green, yellow, red, and blue watched her from the dark shadows of the forest. The eyes were high up in the trees or even low down in tunnels burrowed in the snow. Finally, Lisa felt the string move in a new direction, but it went in a direction she couldn't possibly follow. Instead of continuing straight, the string rose up high into the sky; so high that it was out of her sight! It looked as if Lisa was holding the string to an invisible balloon. When her eyes traced the string down to her hand, she looked in front of her into an empty ring outlined by tall trees with twisted branches. The field was buried under one and a half feet of unblemished snow. Around her were towering beech trees, none of which were bent. All of them were standing perfectly straight like army surrounding her in a very erect stance. Over her head, a cluster of thick branches lost themselves in their neighboring branches like hundreds of interweaving tendrils.

Lisa moved forward one step into the field and was surprised by the strange spider who dropped in front of her face. With one of its many lanky legs, it doffed its hat off to her and bowed as much as a hanging thing could bow, then returned the hat to its head where within seconds, it had slipped a little to the left. Lisa, not wanting to be rude of course, curtsied. She couldn't help giggling as she was so ridiculously dressed for such proper manners. Not seeming to noticed the absurdity of the situation, the spider accepted her invitation of friendship and swung over onto her right shoulder. 


In a clumsy scamper, he toppled down her arm and landed into her palm that she had opened for him. He straightened his hat, which instantly slipped again, stood upon his two very back legs, then tapped his baton with four quick raps on her middle finger. Up went the baton, and at the very moment his hand was raised, all the eyes that watched Lisa on her journey through the forest appeared in the dark spaces of the trees. Some were in the branches, some were in hollowed holes, and others were hiding in the roots, but all of them stared curiously at Lisa!

Suddenly it became very very quiet. Lisa was a little frightened at first, but it occurred to her, as it somehow hadn't before, that she could distinctly hear the snowflakes thudding against the ground. It was a kind of tune, really. One snowflake after the other, in time with a slow waltz-paced rhythm. It's amazingly beautiful, Lisa thought. Her attention was drawn down to her hand where the strange little spider was moving the baton around in the air. His whole body dipped, and when it did so, a deeper thud boomed against the ground like snowflakes colliding instead of gliding. Then, very slowly, and very tenderly, the spider began to move the next arm down, and with its movement, a number of owls hooted softly in the darkness. It sounded very dreamy and smooth like cream. 


Lisa looked around at all the eyes but couldn't tell which ones belonged to the owls. Next, the spider's third arm awoke and gracefully moved up and down and left and right. As if on cue, a pack of wolves let out a very sad howl. It mixed in well with the hooting owls and the falling snowflakes. Soon a lovely melody flowed through the air, warming up Lisa despite the stinging cold. She was a bit surprised when the spider engaged his fourth leg and a sweet, innocent, high-pitched squeak rang out from somewhere near her ear. It was certainly the peep of one mouse out of many who shrilled like flutes over the droning noises of the owl and wolf, but still present in the background of all these animals was the pattering snowflakes on the ground.

The howls, the hoots, the squeaks, and the snowflakes all swirled around Lisa. She couldn't help but close her eyes and, well, dance. She had leaped, and twirled, and dipped, and spun. Her hair was adorned with dazzling snowflakes, her cheeks were red from the cold, and her clothes were utterly lumpy, but she felt as if she was a ballerina gliding from one side of the stage to the next. The spider continued to conduct from her hand which never closed. It lead the music on bravely with a body language that spoke of a broken heart; as if it was mourning the fallen leaves, the frozen rivers, the buried grass, and the bitter cold. Lisa became dizzy from all the twirling, and when she opened her eyes, she hadn't realized just how far into the ring she had gone. Right there, smack in the middle of the orchestra was Lisa and the spider, who was now growing more aggressive in his behavior. 


Unexpectedly the top leg on his other side shot out like it was on fire and a terrifying snarling noise rose out of the trees. It sounded like a pair of foxes in the midst of a scuffle. There was a howling, too, only it was different than the wolves who were still crying out sadly. Lisa jumped a little at the sound, but she felt safe holding the spider. She was afraid of what its next leg might bring, and she had good cause to be, because a hissing and spatting of cats issued from an area low in the forest, but the sound moved up and down the trees. It was an awful noise! The spider was shaking violently as he lashed his baton around him. He accidentally smacked Lisa's cold thumb with it once, making it sting terribly. She searched frantically for the animals who were making the raucous, but there were too many eyes! She fell in the snow and covered her face with her mitten.

Everything went silent. Not a thing could be heard. For a second, Lisa thought she had woken up from a very odd dream, but when she lowered her hand, the spider was still standing on her other palm. His baton was raised but paused. She took a deep breath, sighed, and unintentionally blew the hat off the spider's head. He caught it with one of his outstretched legs and tossed it back on his head with impressive aim. One swoosh of the baton, and a pretty little cardinal landed in the snow in front of her. It's bright red feathers stood out strongly against the white snow. It hopped once, twice, and with a third set of V-tracks imprinted in the snow, it cocked its head at Lisa, and began to tweet. So sweetly. So beautifully. So confidently. It serenaded her with an unforgettable aubade. 


Lisa would remember its song for the rest of her long life because just as the spider raised it's final leg and just as the cardinal hit its highest note, the sun broke through the tangle of branches and lit up the rounded field. All the eyes were gone. The snow had stopped falling. Little bursts of sunlight speckled the snow in twinkling patches around the cardinal. The morning had come. The bird held his note for a good couple of minutes with wings expanded to their full width, then it ended the note most seriously with a very low bow. The dear thing's chest huffed and puffed, but Lisa's gigantic smile seemed to make it all worth the bird's effort. The cardinal gave her one last glance before taking flight into the dawn colored clouds. 

The spider, exhausted, fell back on all eight legs. The sun reflected off his red spots, casting a window-stained shade of red all over the trees and ground like a shard of broken glass. It turned, took off its hat once more, bowed, then with one mighty leap, it was carried away with a gust of wind. Lisa waved goodbye until she could no longer see it. The string from the night before was still stretched from the field all the way to her house. As she wondered back through the forest, there were no eyes watching her. She yawned a few times as she dragged her feet through the two feet high snow drift. Finally she reached her window, climbed into her room, removed all her wet clothing, and slid under her Winnie the Pooh quilt. It was cozy and warm. The grandfather clock struck seven times before her eyelids fluttered into a resting place. It didn't take long before Lisa had fallen asleep with the chirping of a little red cardinal echoing in her ears.

© Mikal Minarich