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Post 1613. Wednesday January 10

Friday Fictioneers

He suspends a silky thread from a corner of an open window. Crouching unseen, he patiently waits for a breath of breeze to carry it to the other side. It moves, and waves then floats up and across. Perfect.

Slowly, painstaking, he starts to weave his web. Round and round, up and down, in and out. Once done, he admires his work then awaits his unsuspecting prey. Minutes pass, more minutes still. Then from nowhere an unsuspecting insect flies into the web's sticky centre. Panic-stricken, it struggles to break free. Thrashing, spinning. But to no avail.

Dinner is served!

Word count 99

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting, and Victor and Sarah Potter for the photo.

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