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International cult classic: The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry

The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry is fast becoming an international cult classic. It is sold in countries all over the planet, Earth, reaching into Russia, China and Bahrain. In many countries it is being sold by every major seller including department store chains and online department stores. It is sold in all of the major marketplaces internationally by many sellers including eBay.

Easter Sunday, April 17, 2022: New seller, Dubuy, is selling my book in Kenya, Rwanda, Tanzania and United Arab Emirates. I am adding their link at the top of my links after the International links under Africa. This website has some amazing advertising copy with compliments:

  • This beautifully illustrated book of exciting stories is a must-have as it will make story-time magical.
  • Helps you understand other people’s perspectives.
  • These books makes you smarter and increase creativity and Imagination.

February 21, 2022: After nearly two months major retailers are still out of stock with my book. However there are sellers who have stocked up on my book and have it available for sale. In spite of all this there are more sellers selling my book in more countries.

January 16th, 2022: Some sellers are now back in stock with my book but many major sellers are still out of stock.

December 25th, 2021: Sold Out Internationally with most major book sellers. So much so that I cannot update all links on this page with all the sellers who are out of stock and those who still have my book in stock. Keep in mind that this book is a print on demand book. Students who want my book for school don’t give up. My publisher is busy fulfilling orders to get my book in stock again. Happy Holidays!

September 1, 2021: There are more and more sellers selling The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry in more and more countries. I keep adding the links here as I find these new sellers by researching on the Internet.

August 15, 2021: The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry is now considered to be an academic book and is used by students for school. Consequently it is available for rental or sale on websites that sell textbooks. Generally at the beginning of each school semester the trend is for my book to start selling out. That should start happening around the beginning of September.

June 21, 2021: There are now so many sellers selling my book that now is the time to get the book at a great price! There could be shortages of my book in the near future. However more books will always be printed and the number of books in print will increase!

June 17, 2021: Fruugo is Back! In most countries.

June 12, 2021: I failed to mention on this post that my book is always available, no matter what, on the website of my self-publishing website, Book Baby. This means a person can custom order a freshly printed copy of my book from the company that prints my books. I put a link to my book on Book Baby on this post under USA.

June 8, 2021: My book is being stocked up again really fast with sellers who have previously sold out. Some are still selling out. There continues to be new sellers selling my book. I am trying to keep all of the links updated!

June 6, 2021: My book is selling out all over the world right now and is on back order on many websites. Still, I keep finding more sellers selling my book internationally and I keep adding the links to this page.

Where to start?


BetterWorldBooks Out of Stock!

Book Depository In Stock!

Wordery Back In Stock!

Fishpond Free Shipping Worldwide


Dubuy Kenya Rwanda Tanzania United Arab Emirates

Textbook Sales and Rentals

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Bigger Books

Valore Books Back in Stock!

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Campus Book Rentals In Stock!

eCampus In Stock!


DesertCart Albania


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DesertCart Suriname




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Fruugo China In Stock!

Saudi Arabia

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Flipkart Back in Stock!


Amazon India Marketplace

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Fishpond India


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Amazon France In Stock!


Fruugo USA Out of Stock!

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IndieBound Independent Bookstores throughout USA and Canada Out of Stock!

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Powell’s City of Books Mega Bookstores in Oregon Out of Stock!

Barnes&Noble Back In Stock!


SuperBookDeals Out of Stock!

Walmart Out of Stock!

Target Sold Out!

Book Shop $18,624,712.07 raised for local bookstores Out of Stock!

Amazon USA In Stock!

Bulk Book Store Always In Stock!

The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry by Mark Alberto Yoder Nunez | BookShop (bookbaby.com) Print On Demand!


Alma Decor

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Book Shop UK £1,223,362.03 generated for local bookshops


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The Spider Lady: Final Episode

The Spider Lady
by Mark Alberto Yoder Nunez
From The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry

     A few months went by and I didn’t hear anything concerning the spider lady.  A little after five in the afternoon one day I got a call at a doctor’s office.  I had never been there before.  I was impressed when I read on the sign that was next to the door of the office that it was a woman doctor who was a naturopathic doctor.

     A very pretty, young, brunette woman who was close to my own age at the reception desk smiled.  She seemed especially friendly and cheerful.  She said she would go get the person who called for the taxi.  She returned and smiling she said, “She’ll be just a minute.”  There were women and children in the waiting room.  Then I saw her in the semi-darkness of the room approaching me.  It was the spider lady.  She was wearing a long, dark print dress.

     I went to open the back door of the taxi for her and she said she wanted to sit in the front so I opened the front passenger door for her.  As we were riding along I thought how strange that we were riding in a car together with daylight all around on a warm, sunny afternoon with a touch of coolness in the air.  She seemed calm, patient, relaxed and humble.  She was gazing off into space.  She sat in her long, dark print dress with her arms resting on her lap.  Her wrists and hands were placed just above her knees, her palms up.  Her fingers were delicately curved as if she was posing in a peaceful, serene and beautiful position.

     Then I saw it!  On both of her wrists were plastic, stick-on bandages.  I kept looking in disbelief while she remained calm and serene.  She was gazing into the distance ahead with slightly lowered eyelids as if in a surreal state of melancholy and peacefulness.  I looked again at the bandages in exactly the places on someone’s wrists where a person would slash with a razor blade to commit suicide. 

     I looked at her face so calm, serene and transcendent.  Except for glints of light that reflected from her eyes as we drove along she seemed motionless and in a state of relaxation.  It seemed as if she had wanted me to see her bandages.  She wanted me to know. 

     When we were on her street and getting close to her house she asked me to stop a few houses away from hers.  She said she wanted to walk the rest of the way.  I offered to get out and open the door for her but she insisted on letting herself out.  She reached for the door handle.  She seemed listless as if drugged.  I patiently pointed to help her find the door handle.

     The afternoon just before sunset was in a golden glow as I watched her walking ahead of me with the skirts of her dark, elegant dress swaying while she walked past the yellow and green lawns of the neighborhood towards her own home.  She walked with sadness and serenity as if introspective.  I never heard anything of the spider lady again.

    I remembered I had told the cab drivers and dispatcher that no such spider that is completely black with a smooth, hard skin of that size exists in this area that I’ve ever heard of.  It was larger than tarantulas which I have seen in Arizona and tarantulas are furry and brown.  Was it just a spider?  Where did those webs come from on the porch that I had just walked through?  What was that smell of death?  Did she practice evil magic and lure men to their death, murdering them in the belief that she could gain power from death like a female spider that seduces males to have sex with her and then devours them?

When I read in a magazine about how a man turned in Jeffrey Dauhmer, the serial killer, to the police because of smelling an unusual smell that made him think of death and then he looked into Jeffrey Dauhmer’s bedroom to see bed sheets covered with caked, dried blood it reminded me of the smell in the spider lady’s house.

     Did I break her magic spell by writing a verse of poetry?   Did she use poetry for evil, magic purposes to cast her spells and did I defeat her unwittingly because of being a poet myself?  Was her seduction spell over me that important to her that when I used her own medium to break her spell she attempted suicide?  Or is the writing and publishing of this story the final breaking of a spell that may have gone beyond the grave?  At this point I know there are people who practice magic, both good and bad. 

Continued from:



Poem from The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry

from The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry
by Mark Alberto Yoder Nunez


I’ve started on a path

A path of knowledge and enlightenment

Having no idea where it will lead

Only knowing that it will never end

But only open doors with more to open

One never reaches a plateau

Where everything is easy

And one has all the answers

And everything goes smoothly

The only goal is more knowledge, more awareness

More consciousness, more Living

The path of knowledge and enlightenment

Is a door that opens on more doors to be opened

There is no knowing where it will lead Only that it will never end

تتعلق سيدة العنكبوت بسائق سيارة أجرة شاب يقابل امرأة أكبر سناً غريبة. إنها مذكرات مظلمة. يهتم شارع ماك آرثر بصبي نشأ في توكسون في الستينيات وصراعه مع الخير والشر. إنها أيضًا مذكرات. الكثير من القصص الخيالية والخيالية. والكثير من الشعر. إلهام جيد لمن يحبون القراءة ويطمحون إلى الكتابة. جيد للشباب والكبار. الأمثال الأصلية والفكاهة.
The Spider Lady se refiere a un joven taxista que conoce a una mujer muy extraña y mayor. Es una memoria oscura. McArthur Street se refiere a un niño que creció en Tucson en los años sesenta y sus luchas con el bien y el mal. Es, también, una memoria. Muchas historias de no ficción y ficción. Y mucha poesía. Buena inspiración para los amantes de la lectura y que aspiran a escribir. Bueno para adultos jóvenes y adultos. Proverbios originales y humor.

The Spider Lady and other short stories and poetry is now international

American Author
San Francisco Area

The Spider Lady is concerning a young, taxi driver who meets a very strange, older woman. It is a dark memoir. McArthur Street concerns a boy growing up in Tucson in the sixties and his struggles with good and evil. It is, also, a memoir. Lots of non-fiction and fictional stories. And lots of poetry. Good inspiration for those who love reading and aspire to write. Good for young adults and adults. Original proverbs and humor. These writings are over the course of years and have developed interactively with people as Mark has recited his poetry and even his fictional stories in progress; consequently his listeners have influenced the outcome of his writings in his first book.

The Switchblade

From Catholic School Stories
The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry

      In the sixth grade at St. John’s School there was a new boy we had never seen before.  His name was Chango which in Spanish, I was told, means monkey.  He had brown skin, very short, nappy hair and big ears that stuck out noticeably on the sides of his long face.  I could see how he got the nickname.  I never knew what his real name was.  Even the teachers called him Chango.  It seemed to be his preferred name.

     The boys and girls told me that he had been in public school but he kept getting into trouble so his parents sent him to the Catholic school.  They told me that he had flunked a grade so he had been put back one class.  He indeed was taller than the rest of us.

He liked to talk and smiled a lot, I noticed, when I was introduced to him.  In the schoolyard he liked to talk to us boys in his class.  He liked to tell stories and found a receptive audience.  It wasn’t long before he started talking about how he was always shoplifting.  He mentioned stealing pencils, erasers and crayons from a drug store that was across the street from the school.  He kept bragging more and more about all the things he would steal.  It wasn’t long before some of the other boys started to brag about stealing things like pencils from the drug store.  “How many pencils?” Chango interrogated.  The bragging about shoplifting seemed to be increasing.

     At this time some boys I knew in my neighborhood and I were really into comic book heroes.  We talked about being like them and trying to fight crime.  I was disturbed about Chango’s bad influence on the boys at school.  On a Saturday I went into the store with my two friends and asked to speak to the manager of the store.  The man in his short sleeve, white shirt and black tie came and listened to me.  I told him about Chango.  He asked me to describe him.  After I described him the manager said he would be looking out for him.  He thanked me.  My friends and I left the store.  That was about it.  It wasn’t exactly like being a super hero but it was a start.  My friends seemed to be impressed that I wasn’t all talk. 

     It wasn’t long after that Chango started something new.  He was sitting on top of one of the little bicycle racks we had in the schoolyard.  It was under a shady tree next to a wall of the convent.  The boys in my class were gathered in front of him, some to the left and some to the right.  I walked up to see what was going on.  I walked to see up the center of the boys who were on each side with Chango straight ahead of me on his seat.  Chango was telling the boys stories when he pulled out a switchblade.  He held it up and pressed the button.  The double edged blade shot out from the side and locked into place with a click.  This was no ordinary switchblade.  I could tell that the blade was long enough for this knife to be considered an illegal, deadly weapon.  Chango wielded the knife and passed it over to his other hand.  He was brandishing the knife while telling his stories of how tough it is in public school.  I watched for awhile and walked away.

     The next day was the same in the schoolyard.  Chango was on his seat on the bicycle rack with his audience of boys from my class.  He was brandishing the switchblade knife.  He was telling his public school stories.  He was getting a feeling of power from his display.  Once again I walked away.      I had held switchblade knives in my hands myself.  Some Mexican boys who were neighbors had brought them into my back yard.  They told me that these knives were legal because their blades were less than three inches.   People bought these knives in Mexico and brought them over the border in Nogales.

     There are two kinds of switchblade knives.  One kind has a blade that shoots straight out from the handle when the button is pressed.  The other swivels out at lightning speed from the side when the button is pressed.  There is a spring inside that makes the blades shoot out so fast.  With both kinds of knives there is a familiar clicking sound when the blade locks into place.  Even with a blade that is over three inches if it is only sharp on one side it is not illegal, I was told.  It is the knives that are razor sharp on both sides that are considered to be dangerous, concealed weapons.  I had held all of these kinds of knives in my hands and pressed the buttons.  I knew the feeling of the lightning fast response and the clicking of the blades into place. 

     Chango’s was the first switchblade I had seen that was illegal.  I made up my mind that I would not allow this in my school.      The next day when the other boys were in the schoolyard I walked into the principal’s office.  I had never been in the principal’s office before.  I walked in out of the hot, Tucson sun.  There was a middle aged woman with a round face behind a desk who asked if she could help me.  I said that I wanted to talk to the principal.  Before she could ask me what it was concerning the principal looked out from her office door and told the lady to send me in.  I noticed that the front office where the lady was and the office where the principal sat at her desk were very tiny and there were piles of papers and folders everywhere. The principal, Sister Ynez, in her white habit asked me what it was about.

     I started telling her about Chango.  I told her about how he bragged about shoplifting and had gotten the other boys to start bragging about it, too.  She listened intently, looking thoughtful with her little, gold, wire rimmed glasses.  I told her that he was bringing a switchblade knife to school and showing it to the other boys.  She asked where he kept the switchblade knife.  I said, “In his pocket”.  The principal thanked me for coming in and telling her.  I walked out of the cluttered little offices into the bright sunlight of the schoolyard.  I could tell that the lady in the front office had been listening as she made busy with her paperwork.  

     It was the middle of the morning in class at St. John’s school.  All the students were looking down at their desks working on their assignment.  The principal appeared at the open, front door in her white habit.  At her side was a tall, athletic looking, young man who was dressed in a dark suit with a tie.  I knew what was coming.  The principal commanded, “We want to see Chango!”  Everyone was silent.  I sat up straight in my desk.  All the students were looking down at their desks.  Even the teacher, a pretty, young lay woman with brown hair, looked down and then she looked up from her desk just a little bit.       I looked at Chango.  I was sitting in the same row, a few desks behind him.  He had been looking straight down at his desk.  With his head still down he looked around to his right.  Then he looked around to his left.  I could see his eyes moving this way and that.  He lifted himself slowly from his desk as if he had a heavy weight on his soul and mind.  When he came to be standing he looked around himself and at the students in the class.  His mouth was pursed.  All the while his head was bowed.  He sluggishly started walking forward.  He turned from the aisle.  He walked to the right, past the teacher’s desk, toward the principal and the young man in the suit who were waiting for him at the door.  The three of them turned from the door and walked away with Chango in the center.

     I looked at the boys and girls in my class.  They had been looking down at their desks the entire time.  They continued to look down as if afraid to even look to the side.  I went back to doing my school work.  We never saw Chango again. 

One of the three Roberts in my class started bringing a switchblade knife to school.  It had a blade that was less than three inches so it was legal.  He sat in Chango’s place on the bike rack brandishing the knife and talking like the way Chango had.  I watched him and walked away.  He did this about three times and then stopped.  He was one of the Roberts whose family owned a ranch in Tucson.  Everything returned to normal at school.  Chango had been in with gangs.  I probably saved his life.