"Mommy!"

Dinky Hooves's mommy once told her that fillies are called fillies because they're filled with love, and that was why Dinky, age six, had lots of love to give. She loved her mommy and her Aunt Carrot Top, and her school teacher Mrs. Sharpener, even though she smelled funny. She loved her stuffed zebra Boopsie that the nice zebra lady gave her for Nightmare Night, and blueberry muffins, and her friends Tootsie Flute and Pipsqueak, and no she hadn't kissed him ever, and no she didn't want to.

"Mommy!"

Out of all the ponies and all the things in all the world that she had encountered during her lifetime, however, there was one thing, or rather one class of things, for which Dinky Hooves could muster no love.

"MOOOOOOMMYYYYYY!"

The door to Dinky's room opened and her mommy stepped in, a puff of flour on her cheek. She looked at the bed, which was empty, and her left eye panned across the room until it found Dinky, wobbly perched atop a chair back, pointing with a hoof at a dark spot on the floor.

"Sweetie, come down off that chair before you hurt yourself," her mommy said softly. "I'll get the spider, don't worry."

Dinky slipped down onto the seat of the chair, keeping her hooves off the floor as her mommy left the room and came back a few long, tense moments later with a water glass and a postcard. She glanced around the room, found the dark blotch where it had originally been, and dropped the glass upside-down over it. Then she leaned down with the card in her mouth, sliding it carefully under the lip of the glass.

There was no chance of the spider escaping, yet Dinky could not let it go unwatched. Its legs rose and fell slowly as it crept along the card prodding it. It reached the edge of the glass and stopped, then placed three spindly, hairy legs against it, seemingly content to rest in the corner between wall and floor as Dinky's mommy lifted the postcard. Carefully, she flapped her wings and rose into the air, then clamped her hooves around the glass.

"Now you wait there," she said, "and I'll take this spider outside so he can join his friends and family."

Dinky waited on the chair until she heard the front door squeak open, and then she waited a minute more. When she was certain that the terrifying beast was no longer invading her home, she let out a long sigh and put her hooves on the floor. The door squeaked closed and latched with a click, and then her mommy trotted back into the bedroom.

"There now, isn't that all better? No more icky spiders to frighten my Dinky."

Dinky rushed over and gave her mommy a proper hero hug. With her eyes squeezed shut, all she could see was the spider, brown and loathsome, lurking against the edge of the glass, watching her as it was carried out of the house.

---

"What if it goes back to its spider friends and tells them about me?"

Dinky's question was soft enough that nopony not on the swing set with her and her friends would have heard it. She was busy looking at the ground and not swinging. Pipsqueak laughed, kicking his swing higher.

"Spiders don't talk, silly!" he said.

Dinky did not feel like laughing and did not see what was so funny.

"Mama says that Miss Fluttershy can talk to animals," Tootsie Flute said, making her swing twist back and forth. "So maybe they can so talk."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-huh!" Tootsie stuck her tongue out. "But you don't hafta worry, Dinky. What would that spider say, anyway?"

Dinky bit her lip and noticed the gravel was a particularly gray shade of gray today. "It would say, umm... That I'm scared of spiders?"

"If a narsty ol' spider came into my house," Pip declared, "Auntie would squash it!"

Tootsie gasped. "Pip, that's mean!"

"Well I don't like spiders neither," he said with a haughty sniff. Letting go of the swing at the apex of its arc, he flapped his hooves and shouted, "Yeeee!" before crunching down into the gravel on all fours.

Dinky kicked her hooves, but her swing didn't move.

"Maybe they talk about how they like scaring me," she said. "Maybe they'll build a spider army to come back when I'm asleep and, and..."

"And truss you up in a giiiiiant web!" Pip said, his face lit up with wonder at the image.

"Nooo!" Dinky wailed, and Tootsie hopped off her swing, sticking her nose into Pipsqueak's face.

"Stop being mean and scary, Pip!"

Pip huffed and turned his back on her. "Well, I'm a-scared of spiders too, so it's okay."

"You are not!" Tootsie stood on her hind legs and put her hooves on her hips. "You're a-posed to be a fearless pirate!"

"Just 'cuz I'm a fearless pirate don't mean I can't be scared of something," Pip said plainly. "Otherwise it wouldn't be fair." He puffed out his chest. "I'm not scared-a all spiders, neither. Just the ooky ones."

Tootsie Flute giggled, then tried to stifle it with a frown. "Which ones are the ooky ones?"

Pip stuck out his tongue. "Them ones with the long, stringy legs. I read a book about science once't and I don't think they can really go walkin' on hairs like that. It's not right. And anyway," he added quickly, "I know what happened last time there was a snake on the playground, so you can't say you're not scared of nothin' neither!"

Tootsie Flute blanched slightly at the mention of that snake. It had been small and green, Dinky remembered. One of the older bullies had picked it up with magic and shook it at Tootsie, and she had almost turned the same color as the snake before running away from it, crying.

"That don't mean nothing," Tootsie grumbled, sitting down on her haunches and looking away from him.

The sound of her friends arguing like this usually made Dinky feel all funny-happy inside, but right now, it was doing nothing of the sort. Inside, she felt more of a determination. It wasn't the kind that convinced her to do things, though; it was more like knowing that something was going to happen and not being able to stop it. The image of her inside a giant spider's web, struggling and unable to free herself, had glued itself into her mind.

"Cummon," Pipsqueak said, tapping her rear left, "there's still recess left. Let's go play Sail Ship!" He dashed off for the low-hanging trees near the edge of the playground.

"I get to be the first mate!" Tootsie called, following behind him.

Dinky let out another small sigh, hopped off her swing, and trotted off to play Sail Ship with her friends.

---

That night, Dinky couldn't sleep. The edges of the shadows on her walls seemed to move, as though small, dark things traipsed just along the boundary between dark and deep dark, scuttling back as they trespassed into the lighter patches. A tree limb scraped against the window; creeping tension tugged at her withers. Pulling the covers over her head didn't help; she could only imagine what the horrors lurking in her room would be up to while she couldn't keep an eye on them.

Pipsqueak's callously pronounced vision played over and over in her head. With each iteration, the sequence took place in a slight different location -- the park, her room, at school -- but always ended the same: Dinky, wrapped tightly in sticky silken threads, screaming for her mother while an endless cloud of spiders roamed down the cocoon towards her.

Crrrrk... Crkkk...

That prickly creeping sensation returned. Hundreds of tiny legs pressed against her body like needles, poking at her flanks and fetlocks. She lifted the cover to find nothing there that shouldn't be, but the sensation continued. Rolling over, she saw only the dent left in her mattress, yet still the pinpricks continued. Every strand of hair tingled as though it were being pulled upward.

Suddenly, Dinky realized she was lifting off the mattress.

"Mommy!"

Glistening silk already covered her ceiling, the same gossamer threads that took her from her bed. She screamed and flailed, but every movement only drew more down, wrapping tighter and tighter around her. Everywhere on her body, she could feel them moving, tickling, spinning their nasty webs. She couldn't see them, but she could hear them: tiny voices filling the air with chanting.

Yummy, tasty fillies, fillies filled with jam...

Her next scream was muffled by a thick wrapping of spider webs across her mouth. Something grabbed her horn and tugged her head backward so that she stared straight up at the ceiling.

In the center of the massive web lay a massive spider, easily twice her size. Its legs stretched to the horizon, each armored and segmented and sprouting hairs that extended up to the clouds, then looped back down to wrap over her. Its hundred red eyes glowed with hunger. A glistening mouth was filled with long, sharp fangs the size of her foreleg, which parted, dripping saliva as she drew closer and closer to it. She could feel fetid breath hot enough to singe the fur on her muzzle as a deep laughter echoed from within it.

She knew it was going to speak, and that when it did, the words it spoke would be the worst thing she would ever hear in her life. Dinky struggled, tried to scream, tried to turn her head or close her eyes, but she couldn't.

Don't say the words! she pleaded silently. Don't say them, you can't!

"I'm..."

The word burned like fire through her veins. Her mind went swimmy and the room turned sideways. Her eyes locked open, as if they too could scream.

"Going to kiss you..."

She turned upside-down, spun around, the room and the spider and the webs becoming a blur of motion.

"MOMMY!"

"Good morn--Ouch!"

Something hard hit Dinky in the forehead and she fell back onto her bed. Looking up, she saw her mommy standing over her, holding a hoof to her eye. The memory of the giant monster faded away into sunshine and semi-familiar shapes.

"Dinky, sweetie," mommy said softly, "mommy only has one good eye, let's be careful."

"I'm sorry, mommy," Dinky replied, flexing her hooves as she clutched at the bedcover. "I had a nightmare."

Saying the words, forcing the images back into the fantasy of the dream world, made the shapes of light snap into focus. She was in her room. It had just been a dream. She was safe. Intending to let out a sigh of relief, she instead broke down into sobs, leaning against her mommy.

"Oh Dinky, my muffin," her mommy said, wrapping her hoof around her, "that must have been some awful dream."

"I-i-it was," Dinky moaned.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

With a sniff, Dinky shook her head. Giving the tears a few moments to subside, she asked, "Did I hurt you, mommy?"

Dinky's mommy paused a moment, then she laughed. "I guess not, since I forgot all about it!"

Looking up, Dinky gasped. "Mommy, your eye's all red! I'm so sorry!"

With a sound of surprise, Dinky's mommy lifted up and flew into the bathroom. Dinky heard a soft groan a moment later and got out of bed to go see.

"Don't worry, baby," mommy said, seeing her in the mirror as she entered the bathroom, "it doesn't hurt, so I think it will be okay."

"I'm sorry, mommy," Dinky said, ears and tail drooping.

"Shh, now." Dinky's mommy wrapped her in a hug. "I'm sure it will be fine soon. I'll just go see the nice doctor today while I'm out."

Dinky took a step back. "Out?"

Dinky's mommy smiled. "It's Saturday, sweetie. Mommy and Aunt Carrot Top are going to the market for shopping. Do you want to come?"

"No."

"Well, it's up to you, then. We'll be leaving once Aunt Carrot Top is ready; why don't you get some breakfast, okay?" Dinky's mommy shooed her out of the bathroom, smiling.

Over a bowl of Honey Crunchy Sugar Oats and milk, Dinky watched mommy and Aunt Carrot Top gather their saddlebags and make for the door.

"Are you sure you don't want to come, muffin?"

"No, mommy," Dinky said through a mouthful of cereal. "Have a good time!"

"Okay. I love you, buh-bye!"

"You're going to get that looked at, right?" Aunt Carrot Top said as they left through the door.

"Of course!"

"All right, but just don't forget--"

The door closed. Slowly, Dinky realized that all the worrying over mommy's eye had made her forget her own problems. She wasn't so sure she wanted to be alone right now, but it was too late because she had already said she didn't want to go shopping. Sighing, she finished her cereal and went to the living room to find a book to read. Even though she faced loneliness, she really didn't feel like going outside.

It was some time later that she felt a presence, like she was being watched. Inhaling sharply, she swiveled her head about, startled by movement on the wall.

Without realizing it, she was backpedaling off the sofa, eyes filled with the horrible image of what lay before her.

"Mommy!"

The cry was reflexive, but mommy still hadn't come back. There was nopony around, nopony who could help her.

Dinky was alone with a spider.

Her first instinct was to flee, but where to? Anywhere in the house, it could get to. And if she went outside...

"He told you about me," she whispered, "the one mommy saved. Didn't he?"

The spider responded by dashing around the corner, over the door jamb that led into her room.

Cold fear flooded Dinky's chest. She stood ramrod straight. That monster was invading her room!

She thought about playing Sail Ship, and Tootsie Flute's exhortation that pirates were supposed to be fearless. She remember Pip saying that he was only afraid of 'ooky', long-legged spiders.

Her brows knit. A monster had just invaded her room, boarded her ship, threatened the safety of her and her mommy. Mommy wasn't around, and that meant it was up to First Mate Dinky to secure the house against the intruder. It didn't mean she wasn't scared, but sometimes a pirate had to do what a pirate had to do.

With a little stomp of her hoof, she marched up to her bedroom door, then stopped. A quick gallop to the closet later and she returned with a broom held in her mouth. It wouldn't do to go into a dangerous situation unarmed, after all.

Snorting, she crept little by little through the doorframe, eyes glued to the wall beside her. The house was loudly silent. One step, then another, then another...

Something on her bed moved and she jumped, her scream mangled by the broom handle in her mouth. She reacted quickly, slapping it onto the bed, heedless of her aim. Horrified, she watched the tiny brown blob lift off the springy mattress and sail through the air to land on the floor behind her. It impacted heavily, without a sound, and wiggled for a long moment before flipping over.

Dinky tried to attack with the broom again, but the sight of the spider righting itself drew all the breath from her and she dropped her weapon. The creature began to stalk slowly to the left, as though dazed. Her eyes tracked it helplessly as it ascended the broom handle and then began to skitter down its length, straight toward her.

The spider filled her vision. Eight legs gyrated one over the other, propelling it in slow, unreal motions up the length of the wooden shaft. It tilted left, then back to the right, never losing its grip, gaining speed, its eyes shining with hatred. Dinky could sense it with every fiber of her being, could feel the malevolence press her back against the wall. Fear squeezed her throat shut.

"Mommy..."

The spider paused at the edge of the bristles.

"Mommy..."

It crept down them, picking its way carefully through the spines and never once wavering from its path towards her.

"Mommy!"

Mommy can't help you, Dinky.

She became at once a blur of light and motion. Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! A distant roaring sounded in her ears, and it seemed like ages of hard toil before she recognized it as her own voice.

"Die! Die! Die! Die!"

There was a crack and Dinky fell to her haunches. Through tears, she saw the head of the broom had snapped off. A pile of straw bristles lay in a semicircle at its base. In the center of these was a brown smear. Seven little tufts emerged haphazardly from it, an eighth sticking straight up into the air, the merest pathetic fraction of an inch. It twitched, and her hoof came down over it once more.

Slam!

When her hoof lifted, the eighth tuft was gone. Dinky collapsed onto the floor, looking at the mess stuck to the bottom of her hoof.

Words caught in her throat. She lay there, crying, until her mommy came in and swept her up in a big hug.

"Dinky, honey, what's wrong, are you hurt? What's the matter? Please tell me what's wrong!"

Dinky hiccupped. Her mommy's frantic voice calmed her just a bit, and she threw her hooves around her mommy's neck.

"I broke your broom," was all she could say.

Mommy set her gently on the bed and Aunt Carrot Top picked up the broom pieces, carrying them out.

"It's okay, sweetheart," mommy said, wiping at Dinky's eyes. "We can get another broom."

"A-a-and I..." Dinky hiccupped again. She looked at her mommy, her left eye covered by a large gauze patch. "I killed a spider."

The admission of her guilt brought forth new tears from a reserve she had thought emptied. Mommy cooed and brushed her mane gently back.

"Oh, sweetie. Oh my little Dinky, I'm sorry."

"No! I'm sorry!" She buried her face in her hooves. "I didn't mean to, it was an accident! It was just... It was gonna get me."

'"Is she okay?" Aunt Carrot Top asked from the doorway.

Mommy nodded. "I think what muffin needs to do is have a little funeral so she can say proper sorry, and then make a new friend."

---

Dinky's muzzle scrunched up as she tapped on the glass. The creature inside remained placid.

"I'm sorry for killing your friend, Mister Stinkyhead," she grumbled. "But that doesn't mean we're friends."

The rosy tarantula said nothing. It extended a leg and then, as if reconsidering, retracted it, resuming its previous position of being vaguely ball-shaped.

From beneath her bed, Boopsie clutched tightly to her, Dinky huffed and glared at the terrarium. This wasn't the best arrangement, but maybe, just maybe if that big spider stayed inside its little home, she could accept it being here.