Takao had always been the curious type. His friends joked that it would one day get him killed, but he laughed it off, proud of his knack for finding shortcuts through the woods. Tonight, he needed one. The sun was already sinking behind the mountains, and his path back home was still long. He could take the road, but it wound too far around the base of the mountain. The narrow forest trail, though, would save him at least an hour.
The others warned him to avoid it, especially after dusk. "The mountain doesn't take kindly to intruders after dark," the old villagers would say, their faces grave. Takao only rolled his eyes. Ghost stories. Legends. They were entertaining, but not enough to change his mind.
As he turned off the road and slipped into the woods, the light dimmed more quickly than he'd expected. The trees, tall and dense, formed a thick canopy that blocked the last rays of the setting sun. A creeping mist curled around his feet, thickening as he went deeper into the forest. The path narrowed, the underbrush pressing in on both sides, but he moved ahead with confidence. He knew these woods—or so he thought.
The deeper he went, the quieter the forest became. The usual chorus of insects and birds fell silent, leaving only the sound of his footsteps crunching against the undergrowth. Still, Takao pushed on. He had taken this trail many times during the day, never encountering so much as a fox.
But tonight felt different. He couldn't place it, yet something about the air itself felt… off. Heavy. He hesitated for a moment, glancing around, half expecting to see eyes staring at him from the shadows. But the only thing he saw was mist. A thick, milky fog, swirling in the dim light.
Ahead, something caught his eye—a faint, pale shimmer against the trees. It was strange, like a gossamer thread stretched across the path. He stepped closer, curious. It looked like silk, impossibly fine, almost invisible. As he brushed it aside with his hand, he felt a strange chill, but dismissed it as nothing more than the mountain air growing cooler.
The trail wound deeper into the woods, and the mist seemed to cling to him, thick and damp. The silk strands began to appear more frequently, draped across branches and shrubs, hanging low between the trees. Takao frowned. Had he never noticed these before?
As he continued, the silk became impossible to ignore. It was everywhere now—clinging to his arms, catching on his clothes. Each thread felt soft but unnaturally strong. He pulled one off his sleeve, only to find another brushing against his cheek, then another tangling in his hair.
Suddenly, he stopped. The path ahead was blocked entirely by a massive web, its strands gleaming faintly in the mist. The sheer size of it gave him pause. No spider could spin something this large, not in these woods.
Takao stepped back, an uneasy feeling crawling up his spine. But before he could decide whether to turn around, he heard something.
A faint rustling.
At first, he thought it might be the wind, but there was no breeze. The sound grew louder, like something sliding, scraping against the ground. His heart began to race.
He looked around, but the mist had thickened, swallowing the trees, the path, everything. The rustling came again, closer this time. Takao's breath quickened. He turned, ready to retrace his steps, but his foot caught on something sticky. Looking down, he saw the pale silk webbing spread across the forest floor like a trap.
He yanked his foot free, but the more he struggled, the more entangled he became. The webs were everywhere now, wrapping around his ankles, clinging to his hands. Panic surged through him as he realized the silk wasn't just catching him—it was pulling him, tightening around his body.
Takao's heart pounded. He tried to shout, but his voice caught in his throat. No one would hear him this deep in the woods. He clawed at the webs, his hands trembling, but the more he struggled, the more they constricted, dragging him toward the massive web ahead.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. A shadow, something large moving through the mist, just beyond the edge of the path. A shape—impossibly tall, impossibly thin—crawling on too many legs.
It was then he realized what he had walked into.
The rustling grew louder as the figure emerged from the fog, towering over him, its body glistening like wet silk. A woman's face, pale, beautiful, and serene, gazed down at him from atop the monstrous spider body, her black hair flowing like a river. Her eyes, cold and empty, locked onto his.
Takao screamed, thrashing against the web, but the silk tightened, holding him in place as she drew closer, her mouth curling into a smile.
"I've been waiting," she whispered, her voice like silk unraveling. Her fingers, delicate and long, traced the lines of his face, before slipping down to his chest. " I've been so lonely. So many come to my woods… but none ever stay. But you… you'll stay with me, won't you?"
Takao's vision blurred as her sharp legs clicked against the ground, weaving more threads around him. The web pulled him tighter, closer, binding him in place, as the monster's face loomed closer, her eyes shining with lust. Hunger.
By the time he understood what was happening, the silk was already covering his mouth, his body cocooned in her web.