tales [ short-story poem tt ]

Spare Amadeus

The clock struck twelve, the moon flew high.
Amadeus rose and went to piss.
A shadow crept as he stumbled on,
Blind that something was amiss.

The police cruiser pulled up to the curb, door swinging open before coming to a complete stop. The car shifted under the change in weight as eight large hairy legs stepped out. Mister Spider arduously crossed the sidewalk, still bloated from his previous meal, and approached the door.

“Glad you made it,” a policeman said as he pulled the door open for the creature. “They’re already inside, they’ll fill out in on everything you need to know.” Mister Spider noticed a bead of sweat on his forehead as he ascended the cramped stairs beyond the door.

“What do we have here,” Mister Spider entered the room and said.
“If I’m not mistaken, I sense the presence of dread.”

“The victim, Amadeus Hobik, was killed late last night,” the detective said. “All doors locked. Only possible entrance was ann unlocked window leading to the fire escape. Victim seems to have been bled dry, but there’s not a drop of blood at the scene.”

Mister Spider thought, “quite peculiar, this.”
“Do you have anyone else on the premises?”

“Only the wife at the time of death, asleep when it happened. She’s in the other room if you’d like to question her,” the detective pointed behind him. “Don’t be too harsh, she’s understandably pretty shaken up.”

Mister Spider went to the doorway. Peering through the entrance, the frail woman seated at the table visibly recoiled, her eyes filled with horror.

Sensing the apprehension, he burst through the door.
“Greetings Mrs. Hobik, you claim you were asleep!”
Two hairy fists slammed on the table, legs cracking beneath it.
“How can we be so sure you were truly counting sheep?”

The woman stammered. Her hands shook in her lap, and she burst into tears.

“Dammit Mister Spider,” the detective rushed in. “What are you doing?”

“I was simply interrogating the witness,” he replied.
“At least one-third of the time the murder is committed by the bride.”

The detective attempted to comfort the woman. “They were together for thirty-six years, hardly newlyweds. Go upstairs to the fire escape, I think they found a lead.”

Mister Spider stampeded from the room, shouting in excitement.
“Could this be the clue that leads to an indictment?”

“There you are,” the policeman said as Mister Spider approached. “The groundskeeper found this on the roof when he came for work.” He lifted a plastic evidence bag, white webbing filled it.

Mister Spider spoke harshly, “how do we know this isn’t his?”
“How do we know he’s not some cunning wiz?”

“His alibi checks out, didn’t show up until after we did. Any idea who it could be?”

Mister Spider clicked his fangs, thinking.
“The killer has to have a reason for Amadeus to be dead.”
“Who else could it be but our dear reader,” he proposed.
“These events occurred only because this passage you read.”

Third Place in the Poetry category on /r/WritingPrompts TT thread