By Angela Noel
September 7, 2017
Crazy spider walking precarious along my page: I hate you because you are creepy. And you hate me because I hold your death in my fingers.
Yet I am more like you than I am not. Something holds a tissue above me, too. Something that would squash my life as I would squash yours–and equally without thought.
We both spin webs to trap the unwary, yours of spiders silk and mine of ego. What we capture, we render drained.
I stare at you, my crawling kin. For once, I let you walk your path without interruption.
Your time will come.
Perhaps, I will be as lucky. Maybe I’ll have time enough to learn to spin without annihilating at the same time. The possibility I might gain this sets us apart.
But just barely.
Your turn: Have you seen yourself reflected in unexpected places? What have you learned?
If you like this story, consider writing a Story Skeleton of your own. It’s simply a little vignette about life experiences, fictional or personal narrative–the bones of a story that supports the pieces of ourselves. Send your Story Skeleton’s to me at firstname.lastname@example.org and I’ll publish them on my blog as a guest post.