| Commentary and Philosophy Fiction posted April 20, 2014 |
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Short Story-Contest theme Cobwebs
Dancing on the Cobweb
by michaelcahill
Cobwebs Contest Winner
Dancing is dancing. One may have a preference, but only a fool does not acknowledge talent. Appeal is subjective. Ability cannot be abrogated by opinion. Only an arrogant mind attempts to.
With that in mind, I sat in my garden observing two creatures, listening to their conversation. The spider, I had become familiar with, having watched the construction of his cobweb over a considerable period.
Today, a dragonfly had provided an entertaining aerial display, until trapped in the beautiful web created by the spider. I listened, with interest, to their dialogue. I leaned in as I heard the spider speak:
"Your journey is your own business. I consider it a maze of no consequence whose exit cannot further your legacy. You have your perspective; I have mine. You accept that you are prey. I claim a predatory nature. Is it preordained? Do you shrug your various shoulders apathetically in an attempt to bore me to inaction? Clever! I lay laurel leaves at your teensy unmoving feet. Stuck for a response?"
"Easy for you to say under the circumstances. Yes, I am stuck here on your cobweb. Your life's work in all its glory, erected to capture me. Each strand woven together awaiting the day that I, the object of your greatest obsession, might happen by. Do you dream of me at night? Or do you dream of your work here? Either way, it comes down to the glorious day when I finally arrive. You are simply biding your time doing busy work out of some compulsion awaiting, me. What are you without me? An instinct that weaves well beyond any sensible practical need. If I were to have arrived tomorrow instead then there would be more wasted weaving left unused. I would still be trapped on this teeny little patch."
"Tomorrow? How amusing. You mention tomorrow, when we don't have that in common. I have that and you do not. Your seconds tick away at my whim and for my amusement. Indeed it is the proverbial cobwebs of your own mind that will determine the moment of your demise. When you tire of cleaning them from the pathways of your thoughts, I end you. I make my web for a purpose. Your web consumes you."
"The sky has no points upon which a single strand can be anchored. I have seen your cobweb from far away. I have appreciated it from a distance in its entirety. I can describe to you its pattern and shape. I can tell you the bends, breaks, and clever twists that it makes. You can't even do that. You cannot even enjoy your own handi-work. All you can say is that one lucky day a dragon fly accidently landed on your cobweb and you in a most cowardly way killed him and ate him."
"I will let you die there and let your skeleton decorate my abode. I'm no coward."
"You have planned a monument to me. A nice conciliatory gesture."
Dancing is dancing. One may have a preference, but only a fool does not acknowledge talent. Appeal is subjective. Ability cannot be abrogated by opinion. Only an arrogant mind attempts to.
With that in mind, I sat in my garden observing two creatures, listening to their conversation. The spider, I had become familiar with, having watched the construction of his cobweb over a considerable period.
Today, a dragonfly had provided an entertaining aerial display, until trapped in the beautiful web created by the spider. I listened, with interest, to their dialogue. I leaned in as I heard the spider speak:
"Your journey is your own business. I consider it a maze of no consequence whose exit cannot further your legacy. You have your perspective; I have mine. You accept that you are prey. I claim a predatory nature. Is it preordained? Do you shrug your various shoulders apathetically in an attempt to bore me to inaction? Clever! I lay laurel leaves at your teensy unmoving feet. Stuck for a response?"
"Easy for you to say under the circumstances. Yes, I am stuck here on your cobweb. Your life's work in all its glory, erected to capture me. Each strand woven together awaiting the day that I, the object of your greatest obsession, might happen by. Do you dream of me at night? Or do you dream of your work here? Either way, it comes down to the glorious day when I finally arrive. You are simply biding your time doing busy work out of some compulsion awaiting, me. What are you without me? An instinct that weaves well beyond any sensible practical need. If I were to have arrived tomorrow instead then there would be more wasted weaving left unused. I would still be trapped on this teeny little patch."
"Tomorrow? How amusing. You mention tomorrow, when we don't have that in common. I have that and you do not. Your seconds tick away at my whim and for my amusement. Indeed it is the proverbial cobwebs of your own mind that will determine the moment of your demise. When you tire of cleaning them from the pathways of your thoughts, I end you. I make my web for a purpose. Your web consumes you."
"The sky has no points upon which a single strand can be anchored. I have seen your cobweb from far away. I have appreciated it from a distance in its entirety. I can describe to you its pattern and shape. I can tell you the bends, breaks, and clever twists that it makes. You can't even do that. You cannot even enjoy your own handi-work. All you can say is that one lucky day a dragon fly accidently landed on your cobweb and you in a most cowardly way killed him and ate him."
"I will let you die there and let your skeleton decorate my abode. I'm no coward."
"You have planned a monument to me. A nice conciliatory gesture."
With that in mind, I sat in my garden observing two creatures, listening to their conversation. The spider, I had become familiar with, having watched the construction of his cobweb over a considerable period.
Today, a dragonfly had provided an entertaining aerial display, until trapped in the beautiful web created by the spider. I listened, with interest, to their dialogue. I leaned in as I heard the spider speak:
"Your journey is your own business. I consider it a maze of no consequence whose exit cannot further your legacy. You have your perspective; I have mine. You accept that you are prey. I claim a predatory nature. Is it preordained? Do you shrug your various shoulders apathetically in an attempt to bore me to inaction? Clever! I lay laurel leaves at your teensy unmoving feet. Stuck for a response?"
"Easy for you to say under the circumstances. Yes, I am stuck here on your cobweb. Your life's work in all its glory, erected to capture me. Each strand woven together awaiting the day that I, the object of your greatest obsession, might happen by. Do you dream of me at night? Or do you dream of your work here? Either way, it comes down to the glorious day when I finally arrive. You are simply biding your time doing busy work out of some compulsion awaiting, me. What are you without me? An instinct that weaves well beyond any sensible practical need. If I were to have arrived tomorrow instead then there would be more wasted weaving left unused. I would still be trapped on this teeny little patch."
"Tomorrow? How amusing. You mention tomorrow, when we don't have that in common. I have that and you do not. Your seconds tick away at my whim and for my amusement. Indeed it is the proverbial cobwebs of your own mind that will determine the moment of your demise. When you tire of cleaning them from the pathways of your thoughts, I end you. I make my web for a purpose. Your web consumes you."
"The sky has no points upon which a single strand can be anchored. I have seen your cobweb from far away. I have appreciated it from a distance in its entirety. I can describe to you its pattern and shape. I can tell you the bends, breaks, and clever twists that it makes. You can't even do that. You cannot even enjoy your own handi-work. All you can say is that one lucky day a dragon fly accidently landed on your cobweb and you in a most cowardly way killed him and ate him."
"I will let you die there and let your skeleton decorate my abode. I'm no coward."
"You have planned a monument to me. A nice conciliatory gesture."
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Writing Prompt 'Cobwebs' That's it! A single word to be interpreted how you see fit, but it must be used somewhere in the story--How easy can this get? No poetry please, with all due respect to the talented rhymers--not today. Maximum word count 500. Fiction or non-fiction acceptable. |
Cobwebs Contest Winner |
Is it not the spider that is more trapped by the web? It is compelled to weave it. The fly came upon it by accident. Still, the fly died remembering the glory of flight.
Write a piece using the word "cobweb" in some way. The maximum word count us 500, this piece has 498 words.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Write a piece using the word "cobweb" in some way. The maximum word count us 500, this piece has 498 words.
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