Writing Of Spiders and Flies

[Mitch]

[b]Of Spiders and Flies[/b]
"The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry,"
said the spider to the fly.
She brushed her eyes with one of her eight legs.
"But we're not mice or men?we're a spider and a fly
I'd say we don't have to worry a bit."
She was large and hairy and black,
and was a widow.

"You know, my husband died just recently,"
she said, pausing in rememberance. She counted
her legs, held them up as she did. "Been dead five days to be exact."
She sat them down. Going to the ground.
She was pitiful, sad, shuddered around.
Then she gathered herself back together, back onto her feet.

The widow looked as if she were about to cry?
But she could not force a tear from her eyes.
She was a spider, and spiders can't cry.
In spite of this, her despair went all about her web.
And as she spoke
the fly only struggled in his cell of thread.
His spider's cell he'd had the luck to come into.

"Please let me free,"
said the fly to the spider, and added?
"I'm very sorry about buzz buzz your husband, madam, very buzz buzz sorry indeed
but I must be go- go- going, I have things to buzz buzz see.
Would you please let me free?"

She thought it over,
looked at him through her eyes.
Looked about her white web, looked all over
to the back and the front and the sides.
Let out a large sigh.

"No," she said.
"I don't think I can."
The fly buzzed and tried even harder now,
his cell shacking and bending as he buzzed and spoke.

"Why buzz buzz can't you let me free?
I must be go- go- going, I have things to see!
Please let me free! buzz buzz, what will it be?
Where will I go? Buzz buzz what will I see!
Buzz buzz, don't do this to me!
Let me go, buzz buzz, let me free! "

She thought about the poor fly?thought wide
but her thoughts kept returning to her husband.
She wondered how he died.
Vaguely she asked, "How did he die?" more to herself
than to the fly.
"How did he die."

The fly stopped buzzing, stared her in the eye
thought and thought till he felt he was himself going to die.
Silence came to the room as the spider sat and thought.
And the fly continued to glare from his white cell of thread.
The silence was too much for the fly
and soon he feared he would be eaten.

"Buzz buzz, madam, maybe I know!
I'm a housefly around here buzz buzz as I go.
Maybe I know! And if I know, I can say,
and if I say buzz buzz then you can let me go away,
let me get go- go- going buzz buzz on my way!"

She looked at him amused,
would have laughed half in humor
and half in hope if she weren't a spider.
Could this housefly know?
It was doubtful, but worth a go.
She supposed she would describe him to the fly
see if he knew how he died.

"My husband," she said just as vaguely as before,
speaking more to herself than the fly.
"My husband was as large as me, black and more hairy,
with big bulbous cute eyes, and his legs were muscular
and most fine."
She paused, thought of something that might distinguish her husband.
Then she had it. She knew something that only her husband would have!

"Oh, I've got it?on his back, he had this scar.
It was in the shape of a semi-circle, had been quite a nasty wound. He had said he'd gotten it from a large man, and he'd escaped barely alive.
Wait?maybe this man killed him?" she thought, then turned to the fly.
"Well, do you know anything?"
Her voice was quavering, demanding.
"Do you know anything?" she said in a whisper this time.

The fly looked at the spider, in her deep eyes.
He was thinking deeper than a fly should think.
Thinking much too hard, and nothing was coming.

The fly started to fear?
his thoughts kept going to the spider eating him.
His wings fluttering, gaping, his body breaking, cracking in half.
The fly didn't know spiders actually suck out their victims' insides.

He couldn't think of ever seeing this husband of hers.
He didn't think he knew.
He cowered, didn't know what to say.
Bought for time.

"Well?" said the spider to fly.
"Do you know, or are you just playing with me?"
"Answer! answer or I'll eat you now!"
She was so loud.
The fly squirmed in fear.
Cowered. Felt death near?
Then a paw reached out.
A paw.

The fly could not believe it
He felt his fear turn to amazement.
Was he seeing this with his eyes?

The paw was large, but the fly soon found out
it wasn't a paw at all. It was a man's hand.
A man that was colossal in size.
The fly stared at him?looked at him with his eyes.
The man looked so big, so strong.

Soon the fly was carried off in the man's paw.
Soon he was with the spider again.

"Where are we?" said the spider to the fly.
The fly was still wrapped in his white cell of thread.
His eyes were wide, peering, as he looked about.

There was little light.
But what little he could tell
they were in some kind of a container?
it seemed made of fabric of some kind.
But that's all he could find.

"Buzz buzz I don't know!" said the fly.
"Oh dear buzz buzz madam, I do not know where we are!
Buzz buzz but where I think we are is someplace far!"

"Someplace far, hm," said the spider.
She seemed calm and reserved.
But underneath her she was panicking.
She was scared and everything was on her nerves.
"I must try to esc?"

She was cut off as a loud hum came.
It surrounded them, held them and boomed.
All about the shook and moved.

It was likely the man that had taken them.
They both knew.
And he was talking to himself it seemed.
It was something about rabbits.
Something about a George.
Something about George not leaving.

It was something this,
something that.
The spider didn't care.
And the fly was glad?
glad it was buying more time.

It finally stopped, and there was a bump?
most likely the man sitting down.

"What was that?" said the spider.
The fly buzzed a shrug.

"Buzz buzz was probably the man that grabbed us!
Sounded like him buzz buzz. He sounded sad!
Did he do something bad buzz buzz?"

"Don't know," said the spider to the fly.
"I don't know. All I know is that I need to get out of here."
She began walking around, searching for a way out.
"Now, how to get out of here?that's the wonder."

The fly didn't want her to leave him where he was.
He was still in his prison, still locked in thread.
"Buzz buzz, madam, do you think you could let me go?
I have to be go- go- going, I have places buzz buzz I must see!
I must leave! buzz buzz I have things to see!
Can you please let me free?"

She stared at him annoyed.
"No," she said. "I said no, and the answer's still, 'no.'
If I can't get out of here, I'll need some food?
and that food will be you."
She said it with no emotion
but deep inside her she was sad for the fly.
But it was just the way of things, she thought?
one thing was killed and eaten to keep another alive.
And that was true.

The fly was quiet as the spider searched around some more.
She climbed up the side of wherever it was they were.
The fabric was kind of easy for her to climb.
She fell down many times, but refused to give up.

About the tenth time that voice boomed again
shook them all over, and made her fall where she was climbing.
She fell on her back, struggled back to her feet,
and waited for the man's loud voice to quiet down.
First he was saying he didn't mean to do it.
Do what? the spider and the fly thought.
And there was a new man, and he comforted him.
Said it was all right.

Then he was saying, "George, tell me about the farm."
And the new man's voice mumbled?
something about having him turn over and look out.
Look out in the distance.

The new man was talking about the farm now.
He said what he was saying in a flat way,
in a way that, underneath, held pain.
And he kept going all the same.

There was talk of bunnies,
talk of having their own place,
having it to themselves.
And the spider and the fly
could almost picture the man smiling.
Smiling as he looked out in the distance.

Then there was a pause?
then there was the loudest sound.
It was short but harsh
and resounded and boomed.
And gnarled and toothed.

They felt that bullet?
felt it as it probably went into that man.
Went into the man who had captured them.
Was there blood? was he dead?
They didn't know.
They didn't know if they cared.

Said the spider to the fly, "I'm getting out of here. This is it.
I'm going to get out of here once and for all?this is it."
She enunciated the last "this is it" slowly and with much emphasis.
She was sick of it?she was getting out.

The fly was alerted?was scared?was most afraid, terrified, sad?
"Buzzbuzzz youcan'tleave me here! Buzzbuzz whatwill I do? WhatwillIdo?"
Wherewill I go? Will I dietoo?! Whycan't you let me goandlet me free?
Whycouldn't you have let me be?!"
The fly was going insane with fear?with stiffening, harsh, rocking fear.
He spoke fast, spoke with all the temerity that was in his heart?all the power he had left.
He wasn't going to die.
He wouldn't let himself die here, slowly, from starvation, in this white cell of thread.
He wouldn't?he wasn't?going to die here.
It wasn't meant to be this way.

But she just turned to him, she was already halfway done climbing.
She turned with one last look, and looking back up and climbing:
"I'm sorry," said the spider to the fly.
And that was all.

She climbed and climbed?
and climbed and climbed?
and then she was gone.
She had made it.

And here was the fly.
He fought and fought to get free?
moved, jittered, jutted, grimaced, pulled.
But he wasn't strong enough.
He was going to die.
He buzzed and buzzed himself to a lullaby.

Outside, she skittered out of the man's pocket
and into the outside air.
Inside the pocket, she could hear the fly.
Deep within he was buzzing in his pain.
She felt sad for him?but all the same, she had to go on.
She needed to find her way back to her web?back to the house.
Either that, or make a web out here.

There were voices now, but she didn't pay attention.
She needed to get away from them.
They might grab her, and she might end up back in captivity.
She might die. Be back where she was.

She was onto the ground now,
moving with all the speed she could.
She was tired?she had climbed all the way out of the pocket
after many tries.

As she walked, she gazed in the distance
with her kaleidoscope eyes.
She thought she saw another spider a little ways away.
Something in her sent a shiver.

She walked up towards the other spider?
and the closer she got, the more it looked like her husband.
She started going faster and faster?was amazed that it might be him?
and then?
and then.

A spider was crawling quite fast.
And a man's foot and that spider crossed paths?
his shoe fell on that spider right and direct?
and the spider was squashed under its sole.
Was killed on hit.

And in the distance, with her last dying sight,
she realized she was just hallucinating.
Her husband she thought she had saw wasn't real?
as she had approached, he had faded.

And then there was only blackness as she died.
A brief moment of pain.
And all her suffering?everything that spider felt?
it was gone.

When the shoe lifted up, her guts stuck to it.
And the man continued to walk on
with the other men.

And in the dead man's pocket
the fly buzzed?and buzzed?and buzzed?
and got weaker, and weaker till in delirium
he was lulled to death.

Let it stand?
let it stand that the "best laid plans of mice and men
often go awry."
But let it also stand that the best laid plans of flies and spiders, too,
often go awry.

And let it be remembered that a large man
with large paws, and who was not so smart,
died.
That his friend shot him to ease his suffering?
to do what was best to do.

And let it also be remembered
that a fly and a spider
died too.

[oshi]

This is really good and involved, but I think it would be better if it was presented as a short story. You rhyme scheme is inconsistent, and that makes the flow a bit jerky and hard to read. You could either change the lines and make them fit together like that, or you could just rearrange it in story form. It's got a good moral--it could be one of the creepy Grimm's fairy tails.
oshi