A Spider’s Breakfast
A short story
Garry followed the fly out of the corner of his far-left eye. It fluttered about, scouring for a feed no doubt. He remained as still as possible, eager to fill his gurgling stomach.
Closer, he beckoned.
The fly landed on a teardrop leaf nearby, slapping its tiny tongue against the lush green base. It then danced on its new perch, a prissy action that irked Garry and sent his stomach reeling. He glared at it, dreaming of the intoxicating taste this fly must be.
Come closer, my early evening treat.
By chance, a tall human rushed past, the wind behind it flitting the leaf about, forcing the fly back into the air once more. Garry could smell the strong stench of sweat from the passing human, but he swiftly ignored it and trained his full attention on the bustling fly.
It whizzed through the air, tormenting Garry’s struggling stomach. He hadn’t eaten in three days thanks to the unfaltering rain. A sprinkle is tolerable, but rain scares away the prey.
Finally the fly began to inch closer, flitting like a spastic, urging Garry to move his legs into position. To ready himself for the final trap.
It was a freshly built web, built an hour ago as the final glaring light fell below the distant horizon. And this is prized location, too, at least to Garry’s instincts. It hovered above a sprawling flowerbed, perfect for attracting all sorts of juicy insects.
Garry would much prefer a super-sized dragonfly, but this small fly will do. Yet the darn thing wasn’t nearing his silky trap! It buzzed and whirled, aimless like all of them. Its vibrating wings sent Garry’s hairs on edge.
He’d seen how frogs catch their food, striking with their stretching tongue, and Garry wished he could do the same. Anything to sink his teeth into; any type of juicy remains to suck dry.
The thought drew him wild! Then Garry began to shake the web, the final beckoning for uneasy prey like this.
Closer… Just a little closer…
The fly slipped a little too near and was snared by the vibrating web. Garry raced along, slipping across his silky creation, desperate to wrap up the fly and get it cooking. But it wasn’t really cooking, though; more like souping. Liquifying for easy slurping.
Garry jabbed the startled fly and wound it up with his forelegs. He didn’t need to use much strain. The fly had accepted its fate.
He could smell the aromas that wafted off the fly, but he knew he needed to wait a few more minutes. Not like the darn frog!
Garry carried his prey back to the centre of the web, planting it as near the centre as possible.
Returning to his original position, he waited a few minutes. Most of his eyes scanned the scenery, but Garry’s far-left eye focused on his silk-wrapped breakfast.
He waited, smelling his delicious catch. He could almost taste it. The tiny teeth that make up his mouth jittered with famished anxiety.
Not yet, he thought.
He didn’t care about the world around him. All he wanted was that fly. The juicy delicacy liquifying before him.
Garry would know if something came, he’d likely feel it more than he’d see it. But really, he just wanted to drink up that fly. He wanted to drain every last drop of it. He wanted to simply enjoy this nutritious feast.
It was nearly done, but he just couldn’t wait. He inched over, clutching the wrapped fly between his forelegs and brought it to his salivating mouth.
He ripped and drained his catch. And by god it was marvellous. The perfect start to a summer’s eve.
It may not be a dragonfly, but it was food nonetheless.