Member-only story
The Performer
From out of the muck, I crawl forth to greet you, a smile smeared across my sales pitch. You smile back, but your eyes waver to show your unease.
I push past this and direct you over to my display. We both feign interest in each other while my funnel guides you toward the center of my web. It’s good that you struggle, it means I am not a detritivore.
I only eat the living.
Spinning, spinning, with words to bewilder, I can see that you are helpless. Never you mind that small voice that’s trying to save you. My way is the way you are going. This is where you belong.
With gestures of relatability, you believe I am one of you. We are the same kind of thing, are we not?
You nod with a layer of glazing that shimmers with fascination.
Admiring my reflection in your eyes, I direct your attention to my next trick. In a dazzling outstretch of casual dismissal, I prompt you to beckon me. You hunger for just one more. Elated, you are drawn forward. I hold my pose just long enough to deprive you of a single breath.
Then I strike forth in contortions fit to make a king giggle.
For the finale, I test out my new scissors. Snip, snip. They work just fine. Straighten out those purse strings for me now, would ya?
