Twilight Sparkle dreamed of small, sharp things crawling on her.
She tossed and turned beneath her covers. They were soaked with sweat despite the cool spring air, and in her half-fugue state she tugged them away to pool on the floor. Her eyes opened for a moment, took in the darkened room, and she fell back into fitful slumber.
* * *
Some time later – hours, perhaps? – she was no more rested than before. She bobbed on the waves of sleep like a castaway sailor, slipping beneath them for brief moments before some errant sensation, like little needles prickling at her skin, drew her back to the surface. In that liminal plane she hovered, never waking, never sleeping, groaning, turning, rolling, wishing she could embrace the darkness that danced just beyond perception.
In time, not long before the first rays of dawn tinted the eastern sky, she finally drifted away and stirred no more.
* * *
Twilight woke with a yawn and a deep loathing of morning ponies.
Things were still a bit foggy in her head, but enough neurons were firing for her to wonder just how some ponies managed to voluntarily rise with the sun. She worked her gummy mouth and sat up, her thoughts quickly shifting to coffee and a hot shower.
“Yeesh, are you okay, Twilight?” Spike said from the foot of her bed. She couldn’t see him, as her eyes were still blurry with sleep and that crusty stuff that forms in your eyelashes, but he sounded far too chipper for so early in the morning. “You look like a mess.”
“Mmhrmbl."
Spike blinked a few times. “Come again?”
Twilight mentally rewound and tried again. “Um, sorry, Spike. I just couldn’t seem to get to sleep last night.” She paused and recalled the visions that tormented her brief moments of unconsciousness. “I kept dreaming my bed was crawling with spiders.”
“Oh.” A pause. “So, those spiders aren’t yours? I thought you were experimenting again.”
That… made no sense. Twilight sat on the rumpled sheets, attempting to parse his question, when she felt something tugging at her tail. Curious, unthinkingly curious, she rubbed the last of the sleep from her eyes and turned to see what it was.
A dark blue spider, about the size of her hoof, was exploring her tail. Long, spindly legs snagged on her individual hairs like the strands of a web. A large white star decorated its abdomen.
Something moved in the corner of her eye. She glanced over to see another spider on the headboard. Beneath it, several more slowly picked their way across the covers.
Interesting.
Twilight Sparkle’s scream woke up the rest of the town. All except the morning ponies, that is, who were already awake.
* * *
Day 1
“Feeling better?” Spike placed another steaming coffee mug on the table in front of her.
“No.” Twilight picked the mug up with shaking hooves and took a long, deep gulp, not minding the bright sting as it burned her tongue. “No.”
“Well, uh…” Spike scratched the back of his neck and gave the kitchen a quick look. “I think they’re all gone, at least. You scared them away.”
Twilight looked around as well. Technically, she had never stopped looking around since appearing in the center of the kitchen in a burst of panicked magic shortly after discovering the spiders. They seemed to be gone, but she couldn't stop shivering.
Those dreams. She fought off the urge to gag and took another deep swig from her coffee.
“Spike,” she said. “I need books.”
“Uh.” Spike glanced at the door leading from the kitchen into the library proper. “You’re in luck, then. Any particular book?”
“Yes. Everything we have on spiders.”
* * *
'Everything’ turned out to be distressingly little. Aside from a field guide to arachnids, the ‘S’ volume of the encyclopedia, and Four-legs Good, Eight-legs Better: A Book for Foals, the library had little to say on the subject of spiders.
Twilight eyed the books with professional distaste. The foals’ book she set aside immediately. The encyclopedia she had already read. The field guide was battered and worn, its pages stained, its spine broken, its cover frayed. Apparently whoever had checked it out last had taken it into the field with them, and, regardless of the book’s title, that wasn't something Twilight approved of. She grumbled at its condition but opened it and soon found her quarry.
Gasteracantha cancriformis, or the common star spider. A blown-up, full-color sketch filled the entire page beneath the name, apparently drawn by somepony with an unhealthy admiration for every tiny detail of the spider’s anatomy. Twilight closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and started reading.
A few paragraphs in, somepony knocked on the door. Twilight didn't even look up. “Spike, get the door!”
She heard the scratching of his claws on wood, followed by the door opening.
“Hi Spike!” Pinkie Pie’s unmistakable voice sounded from the entry. “Happy Star Spider Day! Is Twilight home?”
Twilight set the book down and rubbed her temples.
It was going to be one of those days.
* * *
“So, we’re invited to what?” Spike peered at the dark blue card in his claws, and then flipped it over to squint at the back.
“The Star Spider Day party! Come on!” Pinkie reached into her saddlebags and flung out a hoofful of blue confetti, which rained down on Twilight’s reading table like depressing snow. “Don’t you have your costume yet?”
“Pinkie, pretend for a moment that Spike and I are new to Ponyville, and may not be familiar with all of its customs,” Twilight said. She set her own card on the table and pushed it away. “Also, pretend we’re not completely insane. Now, what is Star Spider Day?”
“It’s only the most terriferific spider party of the year! None of the others even come close. Sometimes the fuzzy-bobbly spider parties get exciting, but they’re too commercialized nowadays, and I think ponies are starting to lose sight of what—”
“Pinkie, listen to me. Can you tell me why I woke up with a dozen of these”—she held the field guide open to the Star Spider entry and pushed it in Pinkie’s face—“in my bed?”
Pinkie gasped. “They were in your bed?! Oh my gosh, Twilight, I’m so jealous! That’s super good luck!”
“Pinkie, they’re spiders. They are the opposite of good luck. Why were they in my bed?”
Pinkie sat back on her haunches and rubbed her chin with a hoof. “Well… maybe they were cold? Sometimes they like to cuddle.”
Twilight snapped the field guide shut and slammed it on the table. “Pinkie, spiders do not like to cuddle. They are incapable of it. All they do is build webs, eat insects, and terrify ponies. I just want to know why they are here, in my house, in my bed.” She gave the room another quick glance. Most of the spiders from the morning were still unaccounted for.
“Oh, that.” Pinkie smiled. “Don’t you know how star spiders work, Twilight? Every five years, all the star spiders in the world come to Ponyville to find a special somespider, get cozy, lay a few eggs, and then go back home! It’s like a single’s cruise, but with more webs.”
There was a pause.
The pause lengthened.
It became uncomfortable.
Eventually, Twilight picked up the field guide again and flipped forward several pages to the “Behavior” section of the star spider entry.
Once every five years, star spiders migrate to the place of their birth to find a mate. This periodic swarm has engendered local mythologies and celebrations, much as the seventeen-year cicada.
Twilight put the book down. She took another deep breath, held it as long as she could, and slowly let it out.
“Pinkie,” she said. “How many star spiders come to Ponyville?”
“Hm.” Pinkie spent a distressingly long amount of time in thought. “What’s the biggest number?”
* * *
Day 3
“Are you alright, darling? You haven’t touched your tea.”
“I’m fine, Rarity.” Twilight gave the tiny porcelain teacup sitting on its saucer a glum look. “Just feeling a bit stressed the past few days.”
“Ah.” Rarity took a sip from her own cup. It steamed in the cool morning air of the chic outdoor café. “If you don’t mind my saying, you look like you haven’t slept much. Anything you want to talk about?”
“I’m not used to all the spiders, I guess.”
“Yes, I can see how they might be a bit unsettling.” Rarity gently pushed a star spider away from her napkin. “Did one startle you?”
“You could say that. I woke up with several crawling on me the other day.”
“Oh, how lucky!” Rarity beamed at her. “When I was a filly I always went to bed the night before the star spider parties, hoping I’d wake up with one. Finally, one year my parents snuck in while I was asleep and put several under the covers for me. You should have heard me squeal the next morning!” She took another sip from her tea.
“That’s enlightening and disturbing.” Twilight flicked her tail at another spider before it could come too close. “You know, we don’t have things like this in Canterlot.”
“Hm, well, their loss. As much as I love big cities, with their high fashion and cosmopolitan aura, I think I’d really miss the spiders if I ever moved away from Ponyville.”
Away from Ponyville. How alluring those words sounded right then. Twilight shivered at the imagined thought of legs crawling along her coat. All around her, hundreds of the spiders skittered about, across the cobbles, up the tables, across pony's laps, through doors, along the walls and ceilings, and of course into ponies' beds, where they were met with adoring sighs and hugs.
“I’m surprised nopony ever told me about this before, actually,” Twilight said. “A little warning would have been nice. Oh, um, you’ve got one on your shoulder.”
“Ah, thank you. Come here, you.” Rarity used her muzzle to nudge the inquisitive spider onto her hoof and set it down on the cobblestones. “I must apologize, Twilight. I just assumed you knew about them.”
“No. No, I didn’t.”
“Well.” Another sip. “Now you do.”
The two were silent for a while, and they watched the small-town life roll around them. Dozens of ponies trotted down the street, carefully stepping over the countless dark-blue spiders that darted from shadow to shadow beneath them. A small herd of foals jumped around with spiders perched in their manes.
“So, how much longer do you think they’ll be here?” Twilight asked.
“A few days, I suppose. Really, they’re quite friendly, Twilight. Give them a chance?”
“I’ll think about it,” Twilight said. A high-pitched titter caught her ears, and she turned to see a gaggle of teenage fillies staring intently at a pair of spiders on the table between them. The spiders poked at each other a few times, but showed little other interest. Eventually, the eldest of the fillies picked up one of the spiders, set it down, grabbed another, and put it on the table beside the first.
Rarity noticed her gaze. “Ah, matchmaking. My friends and I would spend hours doing that when we were little.” She let out a dreamy sigh and took another sip of tea.
“Rarity, you don’t think there’s something fundamentally wrong about celebrating swarms of huge spiders that enjoy sneaking into ponies’ beds and cuddling with them?”
“Twilight!” Rarity’s sharp tone drew several curious glances from the cafe crowd. “I thought you would be more understanding than that. The star spiders are an important part of Ponyville’s heritage, and they’re quite friendly as well. Just give them a chance, and I’m sure they’ll win your heart.”
Twilight shrank at the rebuke. “Sorry, it’s just… oh come on, they’re spiders! They don’t even have hearts!”
“They can’t help that,” Rarity said. She reached out a hoof to gently push one of the spiders closer to Twilight. Its polished carapace shone in the bright sunlight, and she could see herself reflected in it as it brushed its legs against her coat. “See? He’s saying hello!”
Twilight sighed. It was going to be a long few days.
* * *
Day 4
“Yeah, I never really understood it either,” Rainbow Dash said. She lounged on a small cloud not much larger than herself floating level with Twilight’s balcony. “I mean, I get that they don’t bite and stuff, but they’re still kinda freaky.”
Twilight regarded the cloud with distracted envy. Envy, because it would be nice for a change to sit or stand or recline on something without wondering when the next star spider would suddenly decide to crawl up her leg. Distracted, because there were currently several star spiders sharing the balcony with her and growing bolder with every passing minute. She half-heartedly shooed them away when they strayed too close to her hooves.
“But the worst thing is how crazy everypony gets,” Rainbow Dash continued. “Last week I was doing tricks in the park, and there were, like, a dozen foals all watching me and cheering! Now they’re all playing with the spiders and ignoring me.”
How many days would that cloud-walking spell last? Maybe she could live with Dash until the spiders left. She’d have to come down occasionally for food, of course, but that seemed like a small price to pay to be clear of the spiders and the ponies who loved them.
“And who lets insects just crawl all over them like that?” Dash asked. “That’s just crazy. It’s crazy, Twilight.”
“Arachnids,” Twilight mumbled. She was still staring at the cloud.
“Huh?”
“Spiders are arachnids, not insects.”
“Oh.” Dash peered at one of the spiders. “They look like bugs.”
“‘Bug’ is just a generic term that encompasses a large number of invertebrates,” Twilight said. One of the spiders had crawled up on the railing beside her and was lightly running its legs along her fetlock, as though trying to decide if she were safe to climb. She gave it a gentle nudge.
“So, why don’t you like them? I thought you liked sciency-stuff.”
“Because they’re not what ponies think they are,” Twilight said. “Everypony believes they’re lovable, friendly bugs, but they’re not. They’re just invertebrates. The behaviors they exhibit, which ponies interpret as being friendly, are merely instinct. They’re no more intelligent or loving than a rock.”
“Oh.” Dash was silent for a moment. “That’s, uh… really? Don’t get me wrong, Twi, I don’t like them much either, but they seem friendly. Look at that one! It’s like he’s petting you!”
Twilight looked down at the spider in question. It had managed to crawl along the bannister between her and Rainbow Dash, and was brushing its front legs against the fur of her chest. The sensation was like feathers or a sleeping foal’s breath.
“He’s not, though,” Twilight said. Her voice sounded much like it had since the spiders arrived – flat and detached. “You’re attributing pony-like motives to a creature that is incapable of those motivations. Some uncontrollable instinct in this spider’s brain is telling it to touch me with its legs. That’s all, Dash. There is nothing like love or friendliness in them.”
“Oh,” Dash said again. She lapsed back into silence, and eventually the winds carried her little cloud away.
* * *
Day 5
“So, they really don’t celebrate Star Spider Day in Canterlot?” Applejack asked. She gave Twilight a quizzical look, and then stopped by an apple tree to set down an empty basket.
“Amazingly, no. It’s a sad and empty life, but somehow we survived,” Twilight said. She followed close behind Applejack and kept her eyes up on the branches above them. The star spiders liked to hide in the leaves.
“Well, shoot. Maybe you should bring some home next time you visit. I bet your parents would love ‘em!”
“That’s possible. Alternately, they might scream and burn our home down trying to get rid of them.”
Applejack laughed. “Oh, Twilight. You and your jokes. Seriously, trying to get rid of star spiders…” She chuckled and gave the tree above them an appraising glance. Apparently satisfied, she turned, planted her forehooves, and gave it a mighty kick. Dozens of apples fell perfectly into the basket. Thousands of spiders also fell, but only a few went in the basket – most, it seemed to Twilight, somehow ended up in her mane.
She shook them loose gently. “You know, a week ago I probably would have incinerated everything within a hundred feet if that happened. Funny what you can get used to.”
“Yup, sure is.” Applejack carried the full basket over to the wagon, hitched herself up, and pulled it to the next row of trees. “Did you know Apple Bloom used to be scared of spiders as a filly?”
“Really?” Twilight distinctly recalled seeing Apple Bloom running around with a star spider the size of a dinner plate carefully held in her mouth. “She seems to have overcome her fears.”
“Well, it’s like Granny Smith says. You can let a foal go through life afraid, or you can lock her in a dark room with a thousand spiders until she stops screaming.” Applejack put her basket under another tree and lined up for a kick. “She’s just full of folksy wisdom.”
They were quiet for a while after that, as Applejack worked. Twilight enjoyed her little visits to Sweet Apple Acres, especially when they let her escape from the living carpet of star spiders that had occupied most of Ponyville. At least in the orchards there weren’t so many spiders she had to shuffle her hooves to avoid stepping on them.
Eventually, Twilight stopped trying to shake the spiders out of her mane. Most of them crawled quickly off of her, and the few that remained were as harmless as ever. They felt at her ears and waved their little legs in the air. In time, she stopped noticing them at all.
* * *
Day 7
“I’m glad you could make it today, Twilight,” Fluttershy said. She set a silver tea set on the small table between them and then carefully poured a steaming cup for her guest. “I haven’t seen you much this week.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” Twilight levitated the cup up to her lips and gently blew on it before taking a sip. Chamomile, with a hint of cinnamon. “It’s the spiders.”
“What about them? Are you allergic?”
“No, nothing like that.” Twilight took another sip. Dozens of the spiders rubbed up against her legs and flanks beneath the table – she barely even noticed the sensation any more. It was no more consequential than the wind. “I just don’t appreciate them the way everypony else does, I guess.”
“Oh, um, that’s too bad.” Fluttershy seemed genuinely saddened by Twilight’s admission. “Are they ignoring you?”
“No, quite the opposite, in fact. I can’t get them to leave me alone.”
Fluttershy gave her a little frown. “They’re just trying to be friendly, Twilight. What’s so bad about that?”
“I didn’t ask them to be friendly,” Twilight spat. She gave herself a vigorous shake, sending dozens of the spiders scurrying away. They regrouped in a circle and slowly probed their way back toward her, a great mass of legs and chiton and white glowing stars in a sea of dark blue bodies rendered nearly black in the dim light of Fluttershy’s cottage.
“I don’t want them crawling on me,” she continued, louder now. “I don’t want them touching me. I don’t want them sleeping with me. I don’t want to see them or hear them or dream of them. I don’t want them anywhere. I want them gone!” She ended with a stomp of her hoof that shook the little tea set.
Fluttershy gazed at her for a long while after her outburst. She sighed quietly, set down her teacup, and picked up one of the spiders instead. Balancing it carefully on the flat of her hoof, she raised it to her cheek and let it crawl up her mane to perch between her ears.
“Twilight,” she said softly, “I know star spiders are not the most beautiful animal. They are not cuddly or cute. But they are not monsters. They are some of the most friendly and loving creatures you will ever meet—”
“But they’re not!” Twilight shouted. “Everypony keeps saying that, but they’re wrong! Spiders are simple invertebrates with no brains or thoughts to speak of. They are not friendly or loving or kind. The only emotions those spiders have are the ones you attribute to them! Those are your emotions, Fluttershy, not theirs!”
Silence again. Fluttershy stared at her, her cyan eyes wide and shining in the cottage’s perpetual dusk. Only the rustle of thousands of legs and her own hammering heartbeat filled Twilight’s ears.
Twilight licked her lips. “Fluttershy, I’m sorry. I’m—”
“Twilight, we know they can’t love,” Fluttershy said. Her voice was softer than Twilight could ever recall hearing. “We know they aren’t like ponies. We know these are our feelings, projected onto them. What does that say about us?” She paused, and when she spoke again it was barely above a whisper. “What does it say about you?”
Twilight blinked. She looked down at her hooves, where one of the spiders had come to a rest. In its shiny carapace, she could see her own faint reflection, shifting in time as it moved.
Oh.
She closed her eyes to hide the hot well of tears that threatened to break from them. After a few moments, she stood and left.
* * *
Day 8
Twilight woke with the first light of the morning sun. She opened her eyes and carefully checked for any spiders in the covers with her before sitting up. It wouldn’t do to accidentally squish one – bad luck, they all said.
“Twilight!” She heard Spike’s voice echoing from downstairs. “The spiders are gone!”
Hm. She looked around and noticed the room was completely absent of the spiders. Only a few tattered webs remained in the corners. She processed that information silently, until the door opened and Spike poked his head in.
“Hey, uh. Did you hear?” he said. “They’re gone. I think it’s all over.”
“Yeah, I heard.” She stood and made her way to the window. Outside, there seemed to be fewer ponies in the street than normal. Those she saw walked slowly, as if in a daze. They set their hooves carefully on the bare stone. They looked like foals without their mothers. Lost.
Her ear flicked. She reached up and pulled away a string of webbing. The prickle of hundreds of sharp feet on her coat was gone. She glanced back at the empty bed.
“Twilight? You okay?”
“Yeah, Spike.” She turned outside again. “Could you make us some coffee?”
“Uh, sure.” There was a pause, followed by the slow creak of her door closing. It was several seconds before she heard his footsteps moving down the stairs.
Just another week in Ponyville. She shook her head, turned to go about her morning routine, and hoped she might one day dream again of tiny legs keeping her awake.
