workshop 
announcement

in issue five
Scintillations
My Final Phone Call
Master Of My Fate
Almost Famous Photographers
Bugs
Cubicle Hell
Breaking Out Of My Cocoon
Letters To My Younger Self 
Boundaries & Walls
Surviving Today
Adventures In Chalking
Books That Changed My Life
Declare What You Are
My Most Brave Moment
Masks of Bravery  
Love And God
Moody Girl

poetry
Vocalizing
Bravery
The Imaginary "You"

afterthoughts
comments from our readers

contributors

take me back
to the cover
to contents page 

in every issue
What Do You Think?
Subscribe To Be Real
Write or Photograph 
For Be Real Magazine

future issues
Issue Six: Friendship
Issue Seven: Trust

previous issues
Issue One: Change
Issue Two: Balance
Issue Three: Spring
Issue Four: Goddess

I used to be the kind of girl who would scream if there was a bug within five feet of me.  I wouldn't sleep in my bedroom if there was one crawling on the ceiling or along the wall. What if it crawled on me while I was asleep?  I hated all things crawly…I was terrified of them.

I was taking a shower once when I noticed a tiny spider holding on to the wet tile walls for dear life. I imagined it losing its grip and tumbling down on me while I was shampooing, its spindly legs getting stuck in my hair.  I panicked.  Head full of shampoo, eyes barely open to avoid the suds, I leapt out of the tub and stood dripping on the bathroom floor.  I didn't know what to do.  I couldn't go back in there, not while that thing, that monster, was still there.  But I needed to get the shampoo out of my hair, and soon.  Already the suds were dripping down my face.  I grabbed the showerhead and turned it upward, toward the evil creature.  The water pressure quickly forced the spider off its webby perch and into the pool below.  It struggled, flailing its eight legs about to grip onto anything to pull itself out of the water, but there was nothing to grip.  Eventually it was sent streaming down the drain.  Still I was afraid to climb back into the tub.  Maybe it was still alive, holding on to some hair lodged in the drain, waiting for its moment to pull itself back up and seek its revenge on my naked, defenseless body.  I quickly rinsed the shampoo from my hair, keeping one eye on the drain at all times.

But that was a long time ago.  That was before I met Damon.

When I met Damon he already owned some unusual pets.  The chameleon I could deal with.  It was slow-moving and seemed harmless enough. 

But his other pet was a s…s…s…scorpion!   It was big and black, with eight legs and a long tail with its bulb of poison at the end and two huge pincers in front. And he played with it!  He let it crawl on his hands, arms and face.  He tried to stick his fingers in the thing's pincers.  He seemed mindless about that ball of fatal poison in its tail.

Then there was the tarantula, big and hairy with huge razor-sharp fangs that would stick out when it cleaned itself.  It spun a sticky web all over its terrarium and crawled in an unnatural manner along the floor and up the wall.  It gave me the shivers.

But the worst was what he fed these creatures…crickets.  They'd hop about and I could never tell where they were going to land.  And they made that horrible piercing noise all night long.  They really gave me the creeps.

But after watching Damon hold and play with these creatures and never get bitten or stung or attacked in any way, I started to be less scared and more curious.   Was the tarantula's hair as prickly as it looked?  Was the scorpion's belly as hard as the exoskeleton on his back?

One day while Damon was holding the tarantula I carefully reached over and very gingerly touched it.  Her hair wasn't prickly at all, but soft like a kitten's.  Feeling a bit braver I asked if I could hold her.  He very gently put her in my hand.  I was surprised at how substantial she felt, weighty.  Her eight delicate legs clung to me like tiny tweezers.  She moved in graceful steps, holding one leg up in the air while another leg moved her in the direction she wanted to go.  She crawled up my arm, over my shoulder and down my back.  It wasn't gross at all - it was amazing.

Now it was the scorpion's turn.  But the scorpion didn't move in a slow graceful manner.  It twitched and jerked in a nervous way - which made me nervous.  But I was determined to be brave. Damon put the scorpion in my hand and showed me how to hold it so that it would feel safe.  Scorpions don't like being out in the open.  But, if you give them a little cover by cupping your hands, they relax.  His outer shell was smooth and hard, but his belly was soft and there were little hairs on his pincers.  It tickled when he moved as one leg disengaged and then re-engaged.  He kept his poison stinger curled under his tail, saving its potent content for struggling prey.

I was never in any danger.  Neither of these creatures saw me as food or as a threat.  In fact, they probably saw me as just another surface to crawl on, albeit a warm and squishy one.  

photo by Damon Foster

Now Damon and I have a small zoo.  There are three scorpions, one of which we caught in the wild, the tarantula and two bearded dragon lizards.  For my birthday, Damon gave me a new pet to add to our growing menagerie.  I am now the proud owner of a baby Mexican red-kneed tarantula.  She's absolutely beautiful.

Last week I was in the shower and a little beetle was holding on to the wet shower curtain for dear life.  Fearing it might lose its grip and drown in the pool below, I reached out and let it grab hold of my finger.  Gently, I placed it on the dry wall outside the shower and wished it well.

nextarticle