Big. Small. Medium. Hairy. Slimy. Opaque. Translucent. On the floor. On the ceiling. On the walls.
The biggest is the size of a dog (we're talking golden retriever, not chihuahua).
It crawls toward you, slowly at first, its freaky little eyes blinking at you in curiosity.
Whatever was in your hands, forgotten by now, clatters to the ground.
Hundreds of smaller spiders begin to jump at you. The force of all of them paired with your blinding fear pushes you against the door. You scream for help, nobody comes. The spiders begin to crawl into every hole they can find. They choke you and blind you and they squeeze in through your eyes and down your throat. All you can hear is your own screams. Soon, the spiders run out of holes to fill and begin making their own.
They tear into your fragile flesh. They begin to eat your flavorful skin. By the time they return to their webs, there is no sign you ever existed except for the 83 cents that had been in your pocket, stacked nicely by the door.