Torn Threads

You bite back a sob as it disintegrates in your hands again. You've been at this for hours, with nothing to show for it. Every time, every web starts out so beautiful, until it falls apart. You just know that if you try hard enough you can do it. You can weave a beautiful, shimmering, perfect web, that no one will ever escape. You can wrap them up tight and keep them comfy and happy and they'll never want to leave. You can give them everything they need or want, and they'll love you for it.

Your hands are still working the silk, oblivious to the fantasies running through your mind. They've been working too long at this point to stop. This is the one, you can feel it. You'll finally finish it, and you'll start catching them, and you'll be such a perfect spider, and you'll finally get rid of the halo, and-

One of your hands, moving increasingly erratically with your excitement, punches straight through the center of the web as it moves to connect two strands. There's no holding the tears back this time. Your vision blurs with them as your whole body is wracked with sobs. You grip your head, letting them build into embittered wails, screaming out your rage and frustration as your beautiful dream slips further and further out of reach. Through the haze of tears and self-hatred, you see the remains of all your attempts, still glowing faintly with a golden light. The center is completely empty, framed all around by the surviving threads, ringing the space your hand broke through. A reminder of what you'll always be.