"The Spinner" by Chelsea Castonguay

                                                            The Spinner

            When he was a child, his mother told him that She would come someday.

            ‘Who is She?’ he would ask, chining himself on the table so he could watch his mother embroider on the purple silk cloth. His mother was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but he was very young and had seen little of the beauty the world had to offer.

            ‘She,’ his mother continued, her needle slipping through the cloth with the graces of a swan diving into murky waters. ‘is your future wife.’ The boy grimaced and shook his head in disgust. He knew plenty of girls from the village and they were all disgusting. He much preferred throwing mud at them to kissing them. His mother laughed and stroked his soft hair.

            ‘Someday, when you are ready, she will come. She will wear a silver dress that she has spun from spider’s thread and she will love you forever,’ his mother promised. The boy believed her until she died, and then he knew it was but a fairytale and he would always be alone.

            When the boy was sixteen, he had almost forgotten his mother’s tale. There were fields to be sown, grain to be gathered, cottages to fix and at the end of another grueling day, the boy didn’t have much time for memories before sleep claimed him. He lived by his own means, hiring himself out to the lord and local farmers. He was tall and proud, with the fair beauty that had been his mothers. He kept to himself, and he never did see the village maidens’ eyes follow him as he carried wheat to the mill. He rarely attended church and his absence caused some of the more suspicious parishioners to believe that he dabbled in witchcraft, but this was not true. He was merely alone and he liked to stay that way.

            When the girl arrived in the village, it took him a time to realize it. He first noticed the young daughter of the Lord wearing a bonnet that appeared to be spun out of silver. He didn’t think anymore of it, until he slowly began to see the silver fabric appearing throughout the village. The smith wore a new pair of gloves that never scorched or tore, but continued to glisten in the sunlight. The midwife carried her supplies in a silver pouch, and new mothers wrapped their children in soft silver blankets to lay them in the cradle at night. The boy never paused to realize the significance of these items, until the day his last shirt tore.

            It was the middle of summer, and for the boy, that meant smaller wages and no money to buy a new shirt. He sat in his dingy cottage one evening, determinedly trying to sew the shirt back together when there was a soft knock at the door. He pulled it open to see a small woman standing before him. Her hair was long and dark, and her lips curved into a smile as she held out a parcel. The boy took it and unwrapped the gift. A silvery shirt just his size lay among the brown paper. He sucked in his breath and looked up to thank the girl. She was gone.

            Everyday for a month he wore the shirt, and it never grew dirty or tore despite the grueling physical labor he did everyday. However, toward the end of the month, he noticed that the shine had begun to wear off, and one night as he pulled the shirt over his head, it disintegrated in his hands. He was left with a fistful of spider webs. He was still pondering the mystery of the spider silk shirt when there was a soft knock at the door. He answered it at once and there stood the dark haired girl from before, holding out a wrapped package. He took it, but before she could disappear, he reached out and grasped her wrist.

            “Please, I must know the name of the mysterious stranger who brings me shirts made of spider silk.” The girl turned and smiled, her green eyes glowing in the moonlight.

            “I am called Lucine by those who know me and Spinner by those who don’t.” The boy stood in silence, enraptured by her  beauty. Suddenly, he remembered the manners his mother had taught him and he stepped aside.

            “Lucine, would you like to come in? I am cooking supper and I would like to repay you for your gift.” The girl shook her head no, but the smile stayed on her full lips.

            “Not yet. I will return in one month’s time with a new shirt for you.” Before the boy could protest, she had disappeared into the dark night.

            Everyday for a month, he wore the new shirt. He also began to ask around the village after the girl, but no one seemed to know who she was or where she had come from. Some people speculated that she was a witch, and others that she was a fairy. The boy knew that she was neither, she was just a human girl. He found himself worrying about her, ands he asked where she was staying. No one knew, but some children told the boy that they had seen her in the woods one day. The boy began haunting the woods, but he never found her.

            The months passed and fall came. On the last day of every month, Lucine would appear with a new shirt for the boy. And every month he would invite her in and she would say no, but with a smile. The boy had noticed that the shirts grew thinner as the months grew colder. By now he had saved enough money to buy himself a woolen shirt and cloak, but he still wore Lucine’s shirt under his clothes.

            December came with heavy snows and ice. The end of the month came and went without any sign of Lucine. When the snow outside had reached his window, the boy knew he had to search for her. He put on his heaviest clothes and set out to the forest.

            He wandered through the silent woods. The snow was alive with moonlight, casting a silvery blue glow into the air. The boy trudged on, aware of the noise his feet made every time he took a step and crashed through the snow. He lost track of time and he had no idea where he was when he came upon a clearing that he had never seen. He looked up and gasped. The snow before him was black with thousands of spiders.

            Lucine lay in their midst, her hair spread out on the snow. The boy rushed to her, and the spiders scurried out of his way. He knelt beside her and the spiders closed in around him. He could feel their thousands of eyes watching him and he wondered why they weren’t frozen. He turned his gaze to Lucine, and gasped.

            Her skin was pale and her lips tinged blue. She was clothed in only a light silver dress. At once, his mother’s story came back to him and he placed his hand on her cheek. Lucine’s eyes slowly opened, and she looked up at him, her heavy lashes crystallized with ice.

            “I wanted to make you another shirt, but the spiders had no more thread to give. They are staying alive to keep me alive.” Her voice was so weak that the boy had to bend close to her mouth to hear her. He looked around at the spiders. Indeed, they were sluggish and on the verge of death themselves. The boy gathered Lucine into his arms, and wrapped his cloak around them both, sharing his warmth with her.

            “You don’t need the spiders, Lucine! I will keep you alive.” The boy leaned over and kissed her gently. Lucine smiled and leaned against her chest, a pink glow spreading into her cheeks. Around them, there was a collective sigh as the spiders died.