4338.205 · July 24, 2018 AD
Small Battles
He's lied to his best friend's face. He's managing a crisis that spans dimensions. But right now, Luke's enemy is a palm-sized spider in a shed and his only ally is an overly enthusiastic Shih Tzu. Sometimes survival isn't about facing impossible odds—it's about convincing yourself to walk through a doorway when every instinct screams retreat. One man. One shovel. One very patient arachnid.
There's a hierarchy to fear that doesn't always make sense. Luke can spin elaborate lies without flinching. He can send someone shopping with a stolen credit card whilst his partner is trapped in another dimension. He can hold his composure when everything is unravelling around him.
But a spider the size of his palm? That's different.
The shed at the back of the yard is a place Luke avoids. Rust-streaked, ivy-covered, filled with forgotten paint tins and the musty smell of neglect. It's also filled with spiders—patient, silent, waiting in corners with a stillness that makes his skin crawl. Yet he needs a shovel. Just one simple tool for a plan that's anything but simple.
With Duke bouncing ahead, fearless and absurd in his confidence, Luke forces himself through the doorway. Every shadow might hide legs. Every movement in his peripheral vision sends his heart racing. The shovel is right there, within reach, but so is the spider—poised, watching, utterly indifferent to his terror.
When the paint tin falls and the spider moves, instinct overrides everything. No dimension-hopping crisis, no elaborate deception, no cosmic stakes—just pure, primal panic and the desperate scramble for daylight.
Sometimes the smallest battles reveal the most about who we are when no one's watching.
