Every day I watch her spin her web.
Carefully, meticulously, delicately; a silken snare for the unwary.
The intricate patterns are beautiful and captivating, the threads almost invisible.
Before victims know what is happening to them, they are taken prisoner. As they writhe and struggle, she looks at them with contempt.
“You poor fool. Couldn’t you see?” She toys with them before she devours them.
It is part of the ritual, part of the game. It can only end one way.
She has me trapped. There is no point in struggling.
There is no escape.
But be gentle.
Written by Peter Larsen
Peter is a secondary teacher at Traralgon College in Victoria, Australia.