Ensnared
By Alira Cohen
The torrent of long, slender limbs shot forward and surrounded the fly’s body like a cage. The fly, unable to fight, pathetically pushed against its enemy’s embrace. It buzzed in a manner of screaming, but nothing could hear and nothing cared to listen; every small molecule in its body was forcing it to struggle. It kept going even though there was no chance of escape, even though its wings were being crushed and its legs were all curled up. This was nothing but a slight annoyance to the spider. It hardly needed to do anything but hold on. Soon enough, the fly’s body would give in--it would slow down more and more and more before eventually becoming too tired to continue. The pressure would swallow it, and the larger creature would win. Tiny legs tried and failed to lash out. The two of them spun in a twisted dance, turning and turning and turning. It was sickening, nauseating. The fly’s small body had never been under such immense stress. It had never faced such hopelessness. The insect was too bent on escape to feel itself falling apart, to know that every part of it was caving in. All around it, the dead bodies that looked just like itself were resting in the silk.
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