Wednesday, October 1, 2008

The Missing

The spider must have gone.

A child stood outside, next to the bushes, under the tree, staring at the vacant space where the web once stretched. He stood there, in the spot which he had determined to be the best to stand, where the web was nicely back lit, allowing for easy inspection of the intricacies of silken architecture. Now, looking around, hoping that the faint glint of taut silk reflecting the porch lights would catch his eye, he couldn't help but feel pangs of regret. Irrational questions filled his mind, he wondered where the spider had gone, what had caused it's relocation, or if it needed help moving the furniture or setting up its new pad.

Regret turned quickly to anger. It had always been there! Yes, for the past week, the spider had always been there, in the early evening, calmly waiting, sitting vertically in the dead center bull's eye of its creation. Swatting the bush (which previously served as the web's bottom anchor) with his hand, the child ran quickly back to the warm light of the back door, and disappeared inside his home. Moments later, rudely woken from its sleep by a terrible shaking, a single, nocturnal arachnid dove into the air, trailing a thin cord behind itself, the beginnings of a new creation. And as it landed gently on a leaf below and began to spin it's trap, it's home, and it's everything, it wondered idly when the boy would come, to pay him a visit.

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