As most of her kind, she met a nice young man early in life. And, as most of his kind, he met an early end. So, Charlotte was left a widow. She wandered a while, despondent in her grief, until she found a nice corner tucked away in the last compartment in a row of latrines at a children’s home. The latrine she chose seemed to be farthest away from the traffic of many little feet, and she thought it a peaceful place to raise her family, for soon after her young man passed she had discovered that there were many little spiderlings forming as eggs inside of her.
So, as most expectant mothers, Charlotte began to nest. She spent her days designing beautiful webs in the corner of the latrine. She fed on the fruit of the land (namely, fat flies that fed themselves on the waste down deep below). Besides the terribly large white creature that happened into the latrine several times each day, her world was at peace.
Then, one morning, as Charlotte put the finishing touches on her egg sack, joyously imagining the bright future her small ones would share with her in the quiet, corner latrine, everything fell apart. The large white creature entered. She paid it little mind, too caught up envisioning the small spiders soon to hatch- wondering if they would all have eight little legs and if when she gazed into their eyes she would see her dearly departed staring back.
Suddenly, it happened. She was knocked from her perch by a blast of toxic fumes. She stumbled about on the floor of the latrine, disoriented and desperately trying to escape the burning gas. She began losing control of her once lithe and nimble limbs. They buckled under her, and as she gazed upward, her vision fading, she imagined she heard the white monster mutter some sort of apology.