Short story: Sunday afternoon

“How does the spider make his web?” I asked, gazing at the threads above us, silky in the afternoon sunshine; Ruben was silent, his eyes closed. I prodded him.

“Hmm?”

“The spider. How does he start?” I looked at Ruben sleeping. “Does he spit the first thread, or jump, or what?”

“Or what,” he said dreamily, still not stirring.

I ran a stalk of grass down the bridge of his nose.

“Ok!” his eyes opened. “He lets the wind take it, and wherever it lands, that’s where he makes his home.”

“Like you,” I said. But Ruben just shut his eyes.

***

This piece of writing was for the 100 word (or so) prompt for Madison Woods’ #Fridayfictioneers. I’d be very happy to receive comments and constructive criticism. Click here to read other people’s.

26 thoughts on “Short story: Sunday afternoon

  1. Makes me wonder whether Reuben will continue to make his home there or is just passing through. As Rochelle said, your story makes me feel as though I’m lying there, relaxed, observing the web, too.

  2. so tranquil and easy. I feel restful after reading this. However I do have a sense of unease over Ruben’s behaviour. I think she will be disappointed in him

  3. A great story Claire.
    As others have said it had a lovely, lazy, gentle flow to it. It was as if the wind were taking your words on a beautifully gentle stroll.
    I really enjoyed it.

  4. Dear Claire,

    Your story spins its own web one strand, one sentence, one slow lazy thought at a time. It traps us in the end, ensnared in enjoyment. Very nice feel to it.

    Aloha,

    Doug

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