Feb 2018
The spider has chosen her lair. A mere tangle of branches, she alone realizes the potential held. Thread by thread, the foundations are woven.
An inch.
The fruit of her first hour of labor is a mere speck within the cage of twigs. The removal of even a single thread would unravel all. Despite the fragility of her creation, she persists.
Two inches.
Without pause, she brings forth the creation as it is held within her mind. A fly, without warning, smashes into the framework. But her web holds strong, and the fly is promptly wrapped and set aside.
Four inches.
No longer insignificant or fragile, the expansion of her dream continues unabated. Its full complexity known only to her, the web spreads not only wide but deep. A labyrinth, from which the only escape is to be wrapped and set aside.
One foot.
Her tiny body is dwarfed by the scale of the construction, yet her pace still quickens. Each thread wrapped around countless branches, each branch twisted and bent. The core shifts in color as a beam of sunlight attempts to penetrate to the ground below.
Ten feet.
A bird flies into the web, and its motion is abruptly arrested. The inexorable spider crawls onto the bird, ignoring the sheer difference in size. The bird's wings are stretched apart by the threads added, a flag and a warning.
Thirty feet.
The sunlight catches the ever-expanding structure as it twists in the wind. Distressed chirping, croaking, buzzing, a symphony of pain. At the center of it all, she weaves on.
One hundred feet.
The surrounding greenery is shrouded in a wispy cloud which blocks the sun. People, terrified by the sudden appearance, gather to witness it, uncomprehending. A child stumbles into the web, and the spider pulls its limbs apart.
One quarter mile.
The heavy tan trucks roll in, the area long since cordoned off and any trespassers removed. The lever is tested, and the fuel line is connected, before the device is ignited. The flamethrower operator lets loose a jet of liquid heat. The web burns to ashes in mere minutes, taking with it all the limbs and wings. The buzzing, persistent cacophony of pain is replaced by a rising crackle.
Zero.
An inch.
The fruit of her first hour of labor is a mere speck within the cage of twigs. The removal of even a single thread would unravel all. Despite the fragility of her creation, she persists.
Two inches.
Without pause, she brings forth the creation as it is held within her mind. A fly, without warning, smashes into the framework. But her web holds strong, and the fly is promptly wrapped and set aside.
Four inches.
No longer insignificant or fragile, the expansion of her dream continues unabated. Its full complexity known only to her, the web spreads not only wide but deep. A labyrinth, from which the only escape is to be wrapped and set aside.
One foot.
Her tiny body is dwarfed by the scale of the construction, yet her pace still quickens. Each thread wrapped around countless branches, each branch twisted and bent. The core shifts in color as a beam of sunlight attempts to penetrate to the ground below.
Ten feet.
A bird flies into the web, and its motion is abruptly arrested. The inexorable spider crawls onto the bird, ignoring the sheer difference in size. The bird's wings are stretched apart by the threads added, a flag and a warning.
Thirty feet.
The sunlight catches the ever-expanding structure as it twists in the wind. Distressed chirping, croaking, buzzing, a symphony of pain. At the center of it all, she weaves on.
One hundred feet.
The surrounding greenery is shrouded in a wispy cloud which blocks the sun. People, terrified by the sudden appearance, gather to witness it, uncomprehending. A child stumbles into the web, and the spider pulls its limbs apart.
One quarter mile.
The heavy tan trucks roll in, the area long since cordoned off and any trespassers removed. The lever is tested, and the fuel line is connected, before the device is ignited. The flamethrower operator lets loose a jet of liquid heat. The web burns to ashes in mere minutes, taking with it all the limbs and wings. The buzzing, persistent cacophony of pain is replaced by a rising crackle.
Zero.
