It began like any other late July day in southern Georgia. Warm, but mostly humid. It didn't help a young college aged woman named Lisa Stene that she lived in a backwater called Homerville of all places. Not unheard of, but off the beaten path of the metropolitan centers like Waycross, Homerville was mostly woods and marshes. It was mostly a quiet place, not too terribly populated if you didn't count the snakes, lizards, and god knows what else either slithering or crawling in the backyard.
Given a choice, Lisa wouldn't have lived here. Too rustic and the town was economically poor for the most part. But it was free, granted to her by her late loving aunt Margaret. She had her freedom for the most part and when you're young, little else matters so much. The house could have used a bit of maintenance and upgrading to the modern day at this point, but it was two stories, more than enough for her.
Lisa celebrated her 23rd birthday just the other month, but it was a lonely occasion. All her high school era friends were up north or began splintering away to undergo their own paths in life. Lisa, for her part, was taking medical transcriptionist classes during the day and working part time as a department store clerk a few miles away at night. Neither was particularly interesting, but hopefully the former would pay off so she wouldn't have to keep doing the latter.
It was Saturday morning. She had been over an hour out of the covers of her ground level bedroom and was already done with shower and breakfast. She had nothing particularly going on today. Food shopping perhaps, but she was feeling a bit lazy. All this heat and nothing to do was making her bored and apathetic. Maybe tomorrow? She decided to check out her friend's pages on their social networking accounts. People living more exciting lives than hers. For the moment.
The TV was on in the background, set to nothing in particular. A little sound chased away the frustration of dial up internet. At this time, the news from Atlanta was running. Half heartedly listening, she heard something about some kind of dumping scare in Okefenokee Swamp, a major federally protected piece of swamp that bordered the backyard of her property. She gave it the briefest notice and continued scanning online. She had little business back there. It was more for fishermen and hunters. Heck, she didn't even bother mowing the backyard if she could help it. She remembered her aunt mentioning the occasional gator or black bear might wander by occasionally, so nuts to that, she thought.
Time passed and by evening, Lisa decided to go out to Waycross for a night at the town to meet a few co-workers for some drinks. It wasn't the best plan, but it was all she had to do. Dressing in a trendy white shirt with a rabbit imprint, stiletto boots, and matching black leather skirt, she would at least look good. Her hair, a light cinnamon brown, was put up with escrima sticks.
Well, fun was had but time passes quickly and Lisa had to return home. A bit tipsy from one too many apple martinis and her coworkers begrudgingly drove her back in her car before bidding a good night.
Lisa looked at the old blue painted house leading up the soft dirt driveway. Back here again, she thought to herself. The property was dark and mostly unlit save for the moon, Lisa sighed as she fumbled in her purse for the keys. She meant to get an outside porch light set up or even those solar powered driveway lamps, but again, she procrastinated and resigned herself to this.
Glancing down and fumbling with said keys, Lisa walked to her door when suddenly something caught on her face. And shirt. And skirt, and so on. "Wh-what?" she mumbled, confused over what she walked into. It felt thin but soft, yet oddly stretchy. Squinting, she could barely see anything out of the ordinary until she glanced upon her hand holding the keys. There were numerous fishing line-like strands sticking to it and the rest of her on better notice. Lisa winced. Ugh. A spider web.
This wasn't the first time Lisa blundered into one of these beauties. Georgia, particularly the marsh and woods area she lived in, was thick with these large yellow and black spiders they called Nephilas. They were orb weaving spiders, common, mostly harmless, but unpleasantly large. But their webs, which they set up or repaired at night, could be quite sizable, between some three and six feet in diameter. Fortunately, their acquisitions mostly consisted of flying bugs, but she had seen a rare catch of a small lizard or hummingbird in one. It gave her the creeps, but fortunately cute brunettes were not on the menu.
Still, not wanting to be bitten, Lisa growled and pushed through the web sheet, tearing it down around her. Now it coated her and she could feel every sticky fiber. What a nuisance. One thing to give credit to these Nephilas was the strength of their silk. Having blundered into a few in her time out of clumsiness, pulling the stuff off had a tangible feel. Even now her fingers were a bit gummy.
Web strewn, tired, and a little drunk, Lisa closed the door behind her and drew the shades. Worn out, she turned on a table light (bright lights weren't good for her eyes right now) and begin to remove the sticky mess. With any luck, it wouldn't stain her clothing much. That reminded her: she needed to hit the Laundromat soon too.
The process took a good few minutes, particularly trying to get it out of her hair. Removing the web in pieces wasn't helping. Eventually, she decided this was something better dealt with in the morning, so she stripped her clothes down to a cutoff white undershirt and her yellow/orange sherbet patterned bikini briefs. Pulling out the foldout couch, she collapsed wearily with a Hello Kitty print pillow, exhausted. It was too hot to need a blanket but she didn't have a fan in this room, so she mentally noted the screen windows let in a little breeze behind the shades. Good enough.
What Lisa didn't take note of was a visitor had followed her, albeit unintentionally. The orb weaver nephila who's web she wreaked had been dragged along on the back of her white dress shirt, now laying on the carpeted floor. With bad lighting and mild drunkenness, she hadn't noticed the thing...
Sunday.
Lisa yawned and stretched, waking up fortunately without a hangover but a good sense of grogginess and a taste of a brewery in her mouth. She blinked around hazily at the soft light peeking through the shades. Maybe she would get something done today. Maybe.
Stretching one more time, Lisa got up, still half awake, and made her way to the bathroom to wash her face. Always helped her get moving enough to make some coffee. Waking up was a full time job around here.
Passing through the living room into the adjacent hallway, Lisa found herself smack dab into another seemingly invisible obstacle suddenly. Well, it was hard to see, but she wasn't paying attention regardless. A bit slow in the morning, Lisa needed a minute to process this. She walked into something that felt like a nylon sheet stretched out across the hallway entrance and it was sticky vigorously to her. "Huh? What... oh damn, not again. Seriously?" Lisa grimaced, fidgeting in the sticky web as she came to terms. A spider had tricked her twice now, in less than twelve hours none the less. Only this time it was indoors and she was literally caught in her underwear. "Nngh, I can't believe this."
However, she was still a bit weak from waking up and with this, the web felt stronger than any previous time. She tried to push through but found herself repulsed after a mere inch or two. The web wasn't letting her through. Her arms raised before her, she began to feel how aggressively it was holding onto her as if trying to keep her from going anywhere. A strange primal cold swear went down Lisa's brow. This sensation was entirely unknown to her. And it was a little scary.
