I might write a continuation or I might not, depending on how I feel. Anyway, enjoy!
There's something living in your walls. You'd suspected for a while now, but short of cutting open the walls to have a peek for yourself, there's only so much you can do to confirm it. Of course you could set traps; you also suspect that whatever's living in your walls is coming out of them periodically to steal socks. On the other hand, part of you doesn't really want to know what's going on. You're curious, sure. But this whole thing is weird enough that you're a little afraid of what you might find. And at this point, you figure that if you just buy new socks specifically for your wall creature, maybe it'll be enough.
And it seems to be, until one day, when you leave your lunch half finished on the table to go check something elsewhere in the house. When you come back, your sandwich is gone. Whatever kind of visitor you have, it's big enough to make short work of your food - maybe a small raccoon. But surely you would have heard a raccoon get up onto your kitchen table.
It's exactly the kind of mystery that would make some people sell their houses, but you're a little more determined than that. You set up cameras inside your house - one in the kitchen and the other pointing toward your dresser; your little friend only steals clean socks after all. And you wait.
The first time your wall-dweller shows up on video, you have a heck of a time trying to figure out just what it is. It's definitely not a raccoon, and it's far too big to be a rat. Plus the way it's walking on two legs...you can only assume this is some kind of bitty. Unfortunately, the video is grainy and it's impossible to tell just what kind of bitty you're dealing with. Moreover, you didn't think they made bitties so...big.
Well...you'll just have to catch it somehow. You buy the smallest racoon trap you can find, disguise it under a mountain of laundry, and bait it with deli meat. And you go to bed, hoping your sock-stealing guest will take the bait, and that the sound of the trap closing will wake you.
Sure enough, around 2 am you're jolted awake from your slumber by the sound of the trap snapping shut, accompanied by a low growl. Adrenaline pushes you out of bed and gets you to the light switch. You're cautious when peeling back the layers of laundry on that trap, just in case your mystery bitty has claws or fangs or some other unheard-of abilities.
It is, as you'd thought, a large bitty - the biggest one you've ever seen. As you peel the last article of clothing off the top of the cage, you're met with a baleful glare from within the trap, and you can't really blame the little guy for being upset.
The next thing that you notice is that your little buddy seems to have some kind of twiggy things stuck to its back. You want to make sure it isn't hurt, so you crouch down to get a closer look and the twiggy things...stretch and twitch at you. And then you realize. Those are spider legs. This bitty is part spider.
A chill runs down your spine as your brain recognizes this as an intimidation tactic, and you take a couple little steps back, giving the bitty its space. A spider of any size is still a spider, after all.
The bitty continues to glare at you and, not breaking eye contact for a moment, reaches behind itself to tear a strip off the deli meat and shove it into its mouth.
"I knew it!" You proclaim, grinning for some reason. "You took that half of my sandwich that day, didn't you?"
The bitty is silent as it tears another strip of deli meat and eats it, before a sly grin settles on its face, and the bitty nods.
Your laughter is equal parts tired and relieved. "You know, if you're hungry, I'd rather cook something for you than have you steal food I made for me."
The bitty has the grace to look sheepish at this, but you don't give your little captive time to make an argument.
"And I don't mind you living in my house, but maybe ask before you take my socks from now on?"
Finally, you hear a sound from your guest that isn't hostile. It's laughter. The bitty is laughing at you. It's a deep, rolling laugh, and when it speaks, it's with that same deep timbre, which almost seems too deep for such a small creature.
