It’s almost like it’s not meant to walk on land. Its movements are stilted and jerky. Wobbling around as it struggles to put one foot in front of the other. It’s wonder its made it this far in life. It struggles for grip as it climbs the tiled wall, tapping its feet several times just to make sure it sticks to the marble. And then it finds the web.
In that instant it is no longer a spider. It is now an ethereal being moving with absolute fluidity, leaving behind the finite world. It has fractured the gravitational force, its fragments scattered, drifting in the ether. The spider now hangs in the celestial space, an infinite spaces, movements no longer restrained by the mortal coil.
The kitchen is still, suffused in a cold distant light as the stars replace the sunshine void. As caravans of smoke grey clouds roam the night sky the spider waits, concealed in the gloom, legs protruding from the crack in the tiles, its feet tapping, an inaudible torrent of noise, raging in anticipation. A woodlouse is shuffling around, dangerously close to the invisible strands that bind the kitchen together holding all of its pieces in orbit.
A tug, a vibration. The spider charges out along the window pane sheathed in silk, halting for a few seconds. Here it is still a spider existing in the mortal coil. It climbs onto its web, to further scout the source of the disturbance.
It is no longer a spider. It is an ethereal being, hanging in the void of space. It has left behind the finite world, no longer restrained by the constraints of gravity and time. It is a blur, a shape that has rejected the 3 dimensions, existing on an infinite plane capable of moving in any direction it wishes. Red and white streaking through celestial space.
It spots the woodlouse entangled and rushes over. Fangs splinter carapace, venom shuts down vital systems. The spider drags the body back to its burrow to be devoured. It scrambles along the window pane. Unbeknownst to the spider it has returned to the finite, fallen from the abstract to actuality, once again confined to 3 dimensions, its pure imagery compromised by the worlds limitations.
Undaunted the spider returns to the crack in the tiles.
Try as I might, I am still not completely happy with this. Initially I had tried to write like Julio Cortazar (spectacular failure) but I have maintained some of his style in this. feedback is more than welcome, preferably on the second piece. The first one was a test run for the second.