I went for a walk today, just before a thunderstorm. Met this little fellow. Might use him for a metaphor in Skeleton Hill.
Snip:
"You think you know what you're getting into, but you're not."
He stared at me, full of challenge. "How so?"
"You know he's a spider, weaving a web of allies and lies. But you're used to spiders that spread their net in one plane. Simple, easy to see."
He shook his head. "He's not?"
"Of course he is. But he's not a simple spider and neither is his web. It's a tangled, three-dimensional thing." I picked up a piece of string and tangled it in my fingers. "You can't go around it. You can't avoid it."
He stared at my hands as I looped a cage between them.
"And he's there, in the center of it all."
He sighed, tired. "If I can't avoid it, what do I do about it?"
I smiled, razor sharp. "We take it apart." I pulled one hand out and the cage collapsed. "If we're lucky, he'll be tangled in the middle of it all."
