A Spiders Love
It is late afternoon and the rains have just eased. I sit and wait for “movement”, Movement meaning, at the top of each hour, a prisoner may travel from point A to point B. Movement’s window is 10 minutes. After 10 minutes the doors around the compound are locked. If you have not made it, you locked out, standing “out-of-bounds”. That is a problem.
It’s almost 3… I wait… 3 o’clock, movement… I begin my travel. I have a place I wish to go. A spot in a in the corner of the rec-yard. It is a spot few go near. At this spot, is, “Busy Beth”. Busy Beth is a spider, darkish brown, about the size of a nickel. Her web is quite large. After a rain like we just had, her web can really be seen. After each rain Bust Beth, goes out upon the web, and, one by one, lifts each rain drop, and drops them below.
Her web is up a little higher than I can reach. I stand below, watching, and waiting. I have my palms open to catch the drops that she has gently pulled and lifted to drop below. The drops come to me perfect. I wait till enough drops form a pond of sorts in my palms. A pond showing an array of colors moving in my palm. When I think I have enough, I wipe my face. The rain water has a strange feeling to it. Is it because Busy Beth has touched it? Has she made it magical? Maybe yes, maybe no, but I believe. I can make a wish, say a prayer, whatever–It is just me, the drops and Beth.
I have been caged at this prison for around the last 17 months of my 25 years served so far. I found Beth about 15 months ago. So far, she has been safe. She and her web are a “creative happening” for me. No, I am not a child. I am a man that has been through hell and has never blinked at it. No, I will not give them the satisfaction of showing weakness, NEVER. See I am real. Real just like this blog. When one is real, they can never be scared or weak. None the less, is that the reward of prison.
I write this not far from Busy Beth’s world. I wonder if she knows I actually care about her. She seems to know me after all this time. See, when I first used to approch her and her web, she would halt, freeze up, and venture back to a corner behind a small piece of metel. In time… she stayed and worked.
It is almost movement time. I will have to leave Beth. Hell, if I don’t they could shoot me. Nah, don’t want that. I wonder if a bite from Beth would kill – most likely. But, maybe she does know me, maybe she actually loves me. After all, a prisoner does not get much love. Love from a spider is better than no love. So, when I finish this writing, maybe I will try for a kiss from Beth… a spiders kiss.
G.M.
April 7th, 2008 at 11:19 am
While George seems to keep surprising me with his unusual writings and subjects, this one struck me different. See, some years ago, George was bitten several times by a Brown-Recluse spider. He had several bites on his back, but the most damage was to his left arm. So much damage that he almost lost it. George’s remarks to the that possibility, “I’m right handed, I will still be able to write”