Weave Me Another Cocoon

Enantiodromia.ThatThatOurIsTellI’llAthna,Dear Athna:Athna:
Are you well?well? In crownprosoma and heart?opisthosoma? HaveWhat have you been eating?eating—dare I ask?ask? Are those fangschelicera of yours bared?twisted in gladness or sorrow?sorrow?
Still your coatcoatneedle‍-​coat of fursetae retains thatthat ochre richness.richness, still your cunning gaze coronates.adorns that tiara of golden eyes.eyes, and still your breast boasts.boasts those full curves.curves—far more winsome than mine.my gaunt frame, I dare say.say. And of course your webs are impeccable.woven as impeccable‍-​ornate as always.ever—I always envied you that.
You’re peerless.I could never compare.lie.lie to save my life.life. Is my flatterydistractiondissimulation so transparent?transparent? I’ll recuse myself, then.then. (Must I write this as a conversation?)confession?)conviction?)
Apologies.“I’mSister…One sister says,says to another: “I’m sorry.”sorry.” No,But who?who saysought to say it? No, forget it. I will listen.listen this time.
Tell me:me, sister. IsWas thiscontradictionthis betrayal ourmy fate?fatehunger or yours?yours?
Meliflora.Meliflora, that was her name.name, that beautifulinsistent, blooming double trochee.trochee. Angel wingsSun‍-​dazzled gems scaling her wings, finest hairwhite‍-​feathered fronds furling her antennae, and that face.face, soft chitin framing those eyes.eyes.eager, pinkly blushing eyes.compound‍-​eyes. Like petals of a magnificent flower, shyly closed.
Friend.Our fondestonly friend.friend. Her smile, her laugh, her bouquet of words.words. And you hated.disdained.cringed. No.  No, what did you call them? Empty?Vapid?Phatic?Phatic? And she befriended us.us, despite you.me.us both. Why?Did she know?believe we could change?change? Could we really?really? Or was thatthat (always) the problem?
ThatEverSo familiar,lepidopteran,lepidopteran, no?—no, I shouldn’t.shouldn’t. She hatedalways hated it.thatthat stupid idiom.
Moths.
“I’m not.”not even a moth!”moth! Look.”Just looklook—don’t ogle!—glance at my wings.”wings.” (I did.)stared.stared. Glimmering blue.Her scales,scales—like arrayed gemstones—were deep blue and glimmering.moonlighteven in the daytime, moonlight‍-​glimmering.) “Besides!”“Besides, it’s dumb.”dumb. Moths don’t do that!”that! WhyLights are just lights.lights. Not lures.lures, not tricks. Why would anyone?”
Thanatos.“Thanatos.The death‍-​drive.morbidlibidinalliberatory allure.allurerevelation of selfutter self‍-​destruction.” YouQuietly,Emphatically, you spoke.had replied while I cringed.averted myseven of my eyes.eyes.
“Stupid!Like I said!said! Weirdo.Wait, what?what? ‘Thanatos’?That’sWhy’s thatthere specifically a word?smarty‍-​shell word for it?”
“Oh?”“Is it?it foolishness?not wisdom?wisdom, cloaked and masked?” you said.said, and gestured.one pedipalp gestured.gestured meaningfullymeaningfully at usthe two of us. “And this?this? You must agree.agree—no?despite yourself, perhaps. What iselse could one call this?”
She frowned.balked.frowned, mouthmouthpartsproboscis furling.sucked into a spiral.spiral, as if flinching.tasting something sour. “Huh?”“Huh?” She glanced away.toward me.me. I smiled.smiled. She returned it.it, then hummed.hummedhummed high in her chest.chest.thorax. (I didn’t ogle.) She had a question.question. “Eta?Eta? Do you get it?”
Hm.I understood.knew you.you, and wasn’t confused.impressed. But.But her?you come off strong.intimidating.so pretentious. “Well.”Seems contradictory.”at odds with itself.”the innatenormal tendencyways thingspeoplebugs are, I mean.”mean.” (Oh no.no, had I made it worse?seem like I’m a fool? ) “Hm.”“It’s deterimental,kinda risky,bad, y’know? I think.”think bugs avoid it.”itburning alive for evolutionarygood reasons.”
She fluttered.bounced.bounced, wings fluttering.fluttering. Head too.nodding fast.fast. enough her antennae swung about wildly.wildly. So exciteable. Cute. “Exactly!”
You were smug.smirkedkept a chelicera quirkedquirked—despite herme telling you not toitthe brandishing of fangs bothers insects, still.still. As if undisputeduntouchableutterly incorribleno one could denycontrol you.
I sighed.sighed. It’s bait.bait, but I’ll bite.bite. “What?”“What is ‘this’, then?”then?”
“Indulge me?me a reprise?reprise. Look, don’t ogle.ogle.” A laugh.scratch of her mouthparts. “My, my.A butterfly?butterfly? Among spiders?spiders? One can only imagine.imagine. WhereforeWhat motivated her, and whereso.what could come of it. Anon.Won’t be long.long now.now, Iwe promise.promise. Right,Isn’t that right, Eta?”
No.  NoI shook my head. NeverYou’re too cruel, I thought.

And yet… We’re ever seekingyearning for thatthat flame,flame. (Her.Her. So tempting.tempting to dream.believe in it.in us.we could ever…everbe brave enough to burn.) Could we even reachkneeldeny our hunger for for the stars,those stars?stars? Watching.Ever watching.watching them.them.
I know you.you’ve done it.it too.too. Stalked.Stalked to the village.the edge of our hunting grounds.grounds—so paradoxically rich in prey. So close.close to that village.village.
Cobblestone.WebsThatPerched on that hillside overlooking webs of cobblestone.cobblestone where bugs dwell.dwell. ShiningLights flickering behind glass.glass—dozens.dozensdozens upon teeming dozens of nestsnests—morsel‍-​full—and crowded all together.together. So saccharine.suffocating.inviting. How?HowLiving like that, how do they stand it?it? (How do we live without it?)
I had to asktrust you.you. Oh, how did I ever?ever believethink thoseyourany wordswords were worth everythinganythingtheir length in silk?
“As childrenspiderlings, we flee.”flee.flee those hungryspider‍-​plucking birdstalons of heaven above.above and suck sweet nectarfoolsap from flowerspitiful things. ClawsOur tarsi harvest‍-​ripping fruits.fruits, fangs piercing the shells of seeds.seeds, our venom conquer‍-​digesting plants.kingdom plantae—all is rehearsal. As.
“As adultsspiders, we hunt.hunt. Our hunger grows deeper.ever more profound. Death.Death—that is true maturity.maturity. We drainsuck lifehemolymph infused with our essence from our prey—and yet.yet. That’sA meal is not enough.enough, is it? We devour.devour. them because we desire them.them. We trap themthem lest they deny us. WeThey have something we lack.lack—so grievously.”
You halted.halted. Your golden eyes peered into me.me. You saidinsinuated, “Beauty?”Isn’t it beautiful?infuriating?maddening? These butterflies…”butterflies arecan still sate themselves, supping on flowerspeace—still.and they are still more beautiful.beautiful than youyou can ever be, aren’t they?they? And they know it.”
“Even Meli?Meli doesn’t think that,that—she said I looked striking,” I said.said. FacePedipalpsSlender, feeble pedipalps trembled.trembled. YouSisters always knew the weaknesses.weaknesses.
You shook your head.head. “No.  A joke.It was a pun.pun, a joke, playing with words.words. How do you say… ‘if looks could kill’.” That laugh.laugh.
I looked down.down, venoma drop of venom dewingdewing on my cheliceraechelicerae despite myself. “Really?”“Was she laughing at me?”
“Perhaps, perhaps not.not. But that isn’t what bothers you.you, not truly. This angst.I’ve seen the truth.truth eat spiders up inside. Gnawing.ItFrom within us it reaches, it grasps, it claws.claws. DesperationDesperation as if something was stolen from us. Indignation.They stole it from us.us, a voice will whisper.whisper: It’s because of themthem that we are like this! And myself…I am not immune.” ISometimesTimes like this, I hate that look.that look on your face.you.
Your fault,It’s because of you.you that I’m like this, sister, I did not think.think—that thoughtthought (that revelation) came later.
No, at the time, I only said, “Never.”“If I had never listened—listen, never followed you—”
“Never lived?”lived?” you quipped. “Eta, if that’s your longing…”longing, it would take one prick.prick of mine to relieve all that trouble.trouble—shall I assistadminister you?”
I stormed out.out—nothing left for me to say..
“WhereWhere are you going?” you called after me.me.
Into memory.memory. Back to that place where it all began.changed. Began inverting.twisting to its opposite.opposite. And the only place I’ve found peace.peace—sweet like nectar.the sap of fools and children.spiderlings.

And IThat day, IThat day, I met her.her. Spring winds.winds. Distant bird cries.cries. That scent…scent… floral‍-​sweet.floral‍-​sweet, fairy dust and candy?and—what did her kind call it?—cotton candy.candy. Wisteria in bloom.bloom. We met in the boughs of a tree clad in purple flowers.flowers.
I wasn’t yet of agehunger yet, hadn’t molted teneralmy last growing shed yet. I couldn’tdidn’t have the willwill yet to do what had tomother insisted be done.done with morsels.morsels.
She saw me first.first—first!first! Mother would have a fit.fit. If only that old spider knew.
Prey. She couldshould have fled.fled. Screamed.Screamed in horror.horror, or shock, or anything.anything. Not chirped fain curiosity.curiosity.
Wings.A butterfly.butterfly, voice humming melody.melody. “Flowers?”“YouYou’re a monster?monster—um, is that rude? I mean, spider? But you like flowers?flowers? I didn’t know you— spiders liked things, too.”
“Aah!Well, hello.hello. I didn’t know preybugs could speak, either.” I yelpedprotestedsaid sharply.sharply. Mother never spoke of this.this. (Nor did you.you. YouYou, in your usual style, danced around explainingconfirming it.it. I bet you knew.knew just how I’d take it.).
Why?Why? Why didn’t she run?run? Why didn’t I?I killdevouravoid her then and there?there? Oh Meliflora…Meliflora… Must I really be so curious?desperate?

(Always.(What was it that mother used to say it all the time?time? “Weave me another cocoon.”cocoon.” Punctuated with a hard smack, claws barely retracted.retracted. TeachingTrainingRaisingLoving me—giving me what I needed.needed, to survive.survive.
And I needed it.all the practice I could getget, I was so bad at it. So hungry.hungry. She’d take away my meals.meals until I could tie them just right.right. And I nevernever, never, got it justjust right.right.
A different time, a different speaker.speaker. “Is that why?why you became so fond of flowers, I wonder?” you once asked.asked. I did not answer.)

But thenBut that day, I sawshould have seen the ensnaringprefiguredtruthending prefigured,prefigured in itself,its beginning,beginning. I can hardly stomach it.it. That innate weaknessweakness—We spiders have such narrow throats, don’t we?
Please allayAnything butThough beg I must, anything butno route eludes thatmy ownthe cadence of my own prose.prose.
But is this styleaffliction mine?mine? I learned from the best.best. No, I still flatter.flatter. Forgive this dance—Philosophy.No, poetry.I’m no poet. But you?you were.called yourself one.a philosopher.philosopher, writing like this.this. This nonsense. Ha.Yet I imitateecho youecho it, a vessel for your venom still. You.You, sister, I can only imitate.imitate—I falter for whatever meaning you found inin any of this.
ThatBind me in my paradox.paradoxmercilesscatharticdeservedlingering threadthread, spun of myself.my spinneret. It’sMy curiositycuriosity—so silken‍-​sticky—it would always damn me.me. What has this become? A conversation.confession.conviction. Or merely recounting?apologetics?a plea for understanding?
Inevitably this takes a turn for autobiographynavel‍-​gazingself‍-​referential rambling. Yet part of me hopes so desperately.desperately—even should I falter.falter, some real paroxym must be limned alright in my striving.striving.
I digress.digress. Rid me now of this.this ever‍-​persistent self‍-​consciousness.. Spin, spin.spin. The thread lingers, and with it my curiosity.curiosity, my silken bondage.bondage—that twined string stretches onon and onon and onon.
(Are not all ends loose?loose? Yet you doggedlybuzzingly persistpersist—voracious for meaning.)
Deeper you examine.still we look. But how far will you crawl?crawl, in your studyappraisalinterrogation of me?me? How much of the storystory of our lives will you endure?endure? Rhetorical.I supposedare say it must all be enough.slave to some rhetorical purpose, yes?yes? JustifyJustify, by some noble calculus, its inclusion?
ThreeI calculate three questions remain.remain. Shall I pose and then answer them, as suits rhetoric? Yes?If the query bebe what became of myselfyouher, then:then:
Why
Why did she take an interest in us?us?
TheI recall the sun shoneshone, hot with shade‍-​excoriating light, from high above.above, the day I voiced the question.question. WeShe taught us a game played with pillbugs andand overturned baskets.baskets. You rollset up a goalgoal (your basket) and try rolling them.them downhill, hoping to land in your goal.goal, rather than someone else’s. But you kept eating them.them—as ifpast a point, it wasn’t hunger, it was your duty.
“Spiders,”She shook her headhead, white‍-​feathered antenna flapping gently. “Spiders,” she chided.chided. Not exasperation, seemingly.somehow, but some kind of whining fondness?
“Meli?”“Meli?” I started, tapping pedipalps together.together. “Why us?”do you still bother withtolerateenjoy us?us—what do you get out of it?”
“You’re differentYou’re different.”
”Different?”
”Yeah,” she replied.replied. “My father wants me todemands I findsettle for a goodany mate.male to mate with, but they all suck!suck! All they ever talk about is flowersflowers and sportssports and gossipgossip and preening their antennaeantennae and who’s the most handsome and impressive. Ugh!Ugh! But you two aren’t like that.that.” She smiled.smiled, then said it again in that special tone: “Spiders. You talk about… Um.Um. Killing things and weaving death‍-​traps and deep thinky stuff.” She looked up.up,up, a butterfly‍-​gesture I’d never quite understood, unfurling her tongueproboscis vertically.vertically.
“And that appeals to you?”you?”
“It seems so nasty and confusing!confusing! But um. It is interesting.interesting. More interesting than hearing another pickup lineline about fluttering down from heaven, at least.” Gaze snapped down.down, tongue curled all the way upup beneath her mandibles now.now. “EtaAthnaBoth of you, you’re smart and so powerful.powerful. So it means a lot that you’d make time for me.” She smiled.smiled.
“Powerful means dangerous.dangerous. What’s stopping us from killing you one of these days?” I said.said.
“I guessguess I am at your mercy. But…”But… maybe your sister was right?”about that big word she used the other day. Then a toast?”toast?” (“Thanatos.”)(“Thanatos.”) “Yeah that one. It’s. Kind of exciting?exciting? Talking to spiders. I mean,Not that you aren’t people to me too, I mean,mean, I’m not one of those bugs,” she said quietly.quietly.
Then you spoke.spoke, latchinglunging onto another thing she’d said.said. “But however docan you knowknow truly that we’rewe’re, quote, smart.smart. You understand so little.precious little.little. PerhapsFor all you may know, we dilute our words with amphigory.lies and nonsense.”
She tilted her head.head. Light danced across her flushed pink facets.facets. “Hrmph.Maybe it’s nonsense!nonsense! But I like listening to storiesfairy storiesstories and those are lies, too.too. I like when they’re good, I mean.mean. Not just like, I went to the meadow this morning, and guess who was there?” Her wings fluttered.fluttered; she bounced.bounced. ThatI’d learned that motion was aa butterflybutterfly’s particularly emphatic shrug.shrug. She concluded, “It’s just words.”
You grunt.grunt, almost in offense. “I take myself a little more seriously than that.”that.” Too seriously, I thought. ”And I don’t appreciate it.”would appreciate it if you did, too.”
“I do appreciate you!you! Just um. I can’t really tell.tell when you’re just joking, Athna.” Meli looked away.away.
I interject, “But you still think we’re better?better than the bugs trying to court you?” I tapped palps.palps, then stopped myself.myself. Meli nods.
“Sure,” she said. “Of course!”
“Even though Athna’swe’re crypticpretentioushard to understand?” I pressed.pressed.
“I mean, why would I have come this far?far, gone through all this, if I didn’t?didn’t like hearing what you have to say?” She giggled.giggled.
Your golden eyes readregardedbore into her.her. I knew that patientplanningplotting look.look. “How brave of you.you to delve furtherfurther even as a web is woven around you. Take care.care that you do not lose yourself in all this.this. And take care that you are not found.found—terribly so.”
And she just giggled.

WhyBut why did she follow us down into this pit?pit?
BelowIn the depths of our territory, below silken banners and the hollow huskshusks of preybugspeople mounted on display lay our home.lair.burrow. Yours, rather.really, but in practice, ours.ours. (A rare arrangement.)
(Rare, forRare—scandalous, even—for two ladiesspiders to dwell as one.one. But I could hardly cocoon my prey.prey—weaving a web of my own?own? Yes, you let me stay here.here, in this hole, because I couldn’t manage on my own.)
NetsWoven and rooted nets held back dirt and belonging.dirt. Silken carpet,Our mingled silk carpetted the floor, and hanging holdsthe walls held rows of hammocks and pockets. WeaponsOur hunting implements hung waiting, and miscellanea.alongside dried plants and curious stones.stones that might one day find use.use.
But we collected, too.too. Garments of prey, their tools and toys.toys. StoriesIt all told a storystory if you were keen to readwrite it, you know.know. My fascinationindulgence was probing and studyingplaying with them.them. YouYou always provided.provided. I appreciate that.that, if I appreciate little else.
We kept things organized.organized—which made it clearmeant you could always tell when Meliflora had come by.come by. SheHer poking and absentminded wander‍-​carrying seemed a force of entropy.entropy. You scolded her for it.for it; no effect.effect.
Her very presence was an evolution, a marked change.change—she trembled at first.when we first showed her our lair, and declined to enter.enter. But curiositycuriosity, morbid or innocent, possessed her.her. (Why else?She was so much like me, after all.)
But she settled inintoin, found places to climb and perch in our little catacombs. And we talked.talked. Now. I can give no smoother segue than this.this; Meliflora was so ever fond of just…just… saying things.
“Spiders never change, do they?they?”
”What?” I said.said, flinch‍-​freezing as if crime‍-​caught.
”I mean,” she said.said. “Spiders grubsI’ve never seen a spider grub.grub—is that the right word?” (”Spiderling.”) ”Oh. They aren’t long and wriggly, right?”right?right? But ours are. ThenFor a bit, anyway, then we spin a chrysalis and melt into goo!” How horrifying.
Horrifying, I thought. “Fascinating,” I said.
You smiled, branished those fangs.fangs. “How familiar.Oh, we’re quite familiar with morsels that melt.” I scowled at you.you.
“Haha, I bet. But this is good‍-​melting, not deady dead‍-​melting.”dead‍-​melting.” She bouncedshrugged her wings again.again. “WeIt’s a big sleep while we transform—and the dreams are crazy.”crazy. I still think about it.”it. That long rest before Life really began…”begin… Haha, I sound like one of you, don’t I?” (“No,” you said.)said.) “Oh darn. But fair, I guess.”guess. What I’m getting at is… everything gotjust kept getting complicatedcomplicated and confusingconfusing and exhausting after that.. Life’s just moremore and moremore and more of that. Forever!Forever! A lot easier as a grub.grub. As a pup.pup. Sometimes I wish I could just.just. Crawl back into my lil’ shell.” She slumped down at the very end.end. Drooped.Drooped.
“I understand.”understand the metaphor,” you said.
“So, you find it simpler, here?” I tried.tried. “Fewer people. Less to agonizeworry about?”about?”
“It’s cozy!” she said.said.
I lifted a questioning pedipalp.pedipalp. “It’s only physicalthe physical reminder?” I asked.asked. ”Wouldn’t you ratherI’d have expected a butterfly would prefer to, well, fly?”
“Oh, I hatehate hatehate hate flying!”flying!”
“Why!?”
“Why!?” Indignance?The words were indignant out of me.me. “I— Well. I think I’d love to fly.”fly.” Envy?Was Athna right? I thought.thought. Do I envy them?
“It’s so tiring!It’s so tiring! And the wind is so annoying!annoying! And you’ve got to pay attention to so much random stuff,” she ranted.ranted. “But. I mean. Honestly?”Honestly, it’s mostly the migration.”migration.”
“Right,Right,” I said, ”the butterflies have to migrate every year.”year.”
“Such a wonderful time to hunt,” you said.said. “Timing permitting, of course.”course.” I glared.glared.
“We don’t even have to! It’s just… tradition,” she whined.whined. “And flying across the continentcontinent whenever the winds get cold. And it’s the worst!”worst!”
“What do you dislike?” I asked.asked. I noticed she heldgently held one of my tarsi.tarsi.
“Everything out there is just so big, Eta.”Eta. And we’re… we’re just bugs.”bugs. From above it’s all vast and looming.vast seas and looming mountaintops.mountaintops and these overgrown forests.forests that stretch onon and onon and onon and onon and—”
“I get it,” I told her.her, squeezing her tarsus in mine.mine.
She giggled.giggled. Musical.Musical. “But that’s why I like it down here! With youyou both. It’s cozy,” she repeated.repeated. “Nice and safe.”
“It’s very much not,” I said.said. “Remember that.”
She stuck out her proboscis at me.me, and blew air to make it flutter.flutter. “I might forget it if you didn’t keep reminding me!”me! Really, you’re kind of harmless.harmless. For a ruthless predatory spider.”spider.” A tarsus tapped her chin.chin. “I wonderI wonder if you’ve ever eaten anyone I know. I wonder what we taste like.”like.”
“Diverse multitudesEvery bug is their own specimen,” you said before I can answer.answer. “Some struggle and that thrill floods their blood.blood. Some have poised their body before I have laid a tarsus upon them.them. And some… there’s no accounting for essence.essence. Are there not bugsso many bugs destined to be exquisite meals?meals? Is it not cruelty to spare them?”
Meliflora looked away.away. Then, glancedslowly, glanced up at me.me. Were her eyes flushed brightly pink?pink? Or did I imagine that?that? Then she asked.asked that damndamneddamning question.question. “DoHey,Hey Eta, do you wonder what I taste like?”like?” She smiled.smiled. She smiled.smiled. At me.me.
And you just laughed and laughed..

(We were alone.alone. “The answer to her question is yes, isn’t it?it? You’veYou must have thought about it.it. The fantasy keeps you up at night.night. Like a pang in your gut.gut. So intense you can already feel it, yes?yes? Wrapping her into a bindingly tight embrace of silk.silk. The taste oftaste dripping from of her cuticle.cuticle. How yourthe fine points of your lengthchelicerae would simply glide into her depths.depths. Delivering a gush of your own essence.essence—transforming her utterly.utterly, rendering her entirely yours.yours. So easily.easily. So naturally.naturally. Yes, Eta.Eta. The answer is so very yes.”)

WhyAnd whyever did she comekeep coming back?back?
You met her at the doorwaytrapdoor to our burrow.burrow. “It is loneliness, is it not?not? The reason you keep coming back to us?” you asked.asked. YouAt some point, you’d begun to speakspeak to her with less venom;venom. (Or I so I thought.thought. Really, it’d become subtle.subtle,subtle, a slow‍-​acting dose, blended alchemically with fruit and wine.) Meliflora noticed.smiled at you more often, now.now.
She started, “It’s not… I’m not… yeah, yeah okay.okay. I guess. You make me sound pathetic,pathetic. Some of the girls say I would talk to rocks.rocks—and for the record I wouldn’t!wouldn’t! Not even if it was shiny!” She folded herboth pairs of arms across her chest.thorax.
“Even if it were humming quartz?”
Her antennae twirled amusement. “Anyway.“Well if it started the conversation, then yeah.that’s a different story.story.”
“Loneliness?You were talking about loneliness,” I interjected.
“Right. ” Then she said, “Just a little lonely.lonely. And it’s… worse now.now. Partly because I keep pissing off the males.males and partly because. Um.Um. Bugs think you made me evilI’m conspiring with you two? Not great.And that’s bad because. Uh.” She glanced away.away, looking between the two of us.us. “The village blames you for everythingall the people who keep disappearing? Sorry.”Sorry.”
You said, “But of course.”“We do eat you morsels.”morsels.”
“She’s not ajust a morsel,” I said.said, something hardelse lacing my words.words.
Meliflora just giggled.giggled. “Aren’t we all, though?”though?”
I lookedturnedflinched to look at her.her, and wondered if she saw herself reflectedreflected in the lens of my eyes. I thought.thought. Considered my words.words. Said, “You don’t mind that we’re killers?”killers?”
“NoI don’t know. Not my problem?problem? It’s their own faultfault if you manage to catch them, I guess.guess. I’d just tell ’em just don’t be stupid, haha.haha. Way more of them would live.live. if they were nice and charmingas nice and charming as me, I bet.” She paused.paused. Her voice grew quieter. “But…”“But some of them…”“But I guess of them aremight be nice.”nice.”
“Yet I would still enjoy eating them,” you said.said. (Meliflora had richly pink eyes.eyes, looking at you.)
And I glared, chelicerae clicking.clicking. “We would still have to,have to, is what matters,” I said.said.
“Well, if you have to, startyou should start with the bugs I don’t like,like, you know?” she said.said.
“Do you like yourself, papillon?”papillon?” You ran a mouthpartpedipalp over your fangschelicerae, subtly.subtly.
Her headround and fuzzy head tilted.tilted. “What?”
“The stinglashbite of judgment and rumor, the disapprovaljudgment of your conspecifices…conspecifics—are you truly numb to it all? Does it not erode?erode your confidence?confidence? Are you real?Is this chipper mien of yours sincere, or a façade?” Those chelicera parted.parted to reveal that yawning mouth.mouth; and you spoke with gravitas.gravitas. “What dwellsaches beneath your shell, oh papillon?”papillon?”
Projection.Must you ever imagine all bugs miserableas miserable as yourself, sister? I thoughtrefrained from saying. I glanced at ‘papillon’.Meliflora.
Her proboscis wiggled in the air.air. “Is this about… thanatos?thanatos”—she gave that word a dreadful whisper—”again?” she asked.asked.
You nodded.nodded, and still made the gesture look chiding. That smile.When was the last time?time I saw you smile?smile? “You had ideated dreadfully.asked whether we’d ever wondered how you taste.taste—was it not your plan to plant the idea in our heads?heads? So tell me, papillon.papillon. You must tell me.me. IfWhen we at last dispense with this pretense,foreplay, shall we?would you deny us yourself?”


But ultimately?ultimately? I cannot satisfyexhaust the tale with thisthis meager silk spun from my glands, no.no. SheIt was the nature of Meliflora that she produced so much chatter.chatter,chatter—such lovely sing‍-​song pestering—and I ache.ache to transcribe it all.all.
“What if a butterfly and a spiderme and one of youwe, um, kissed…kissed—is it possible, I mean?mean? Are our mouths the right shape?” “Next grand migration, could I fly with…I mean, maybe it wouldn’t be so awful if one of you were therecame with me…” “Hehe, are you jealous, Eta?Eta‍-​cutie? Don’t worry, I likereally like you both~”
And then, that night.night, came those words that signaled the doomlast, fateful evolution of our relationshipwhat we were together. Falling.The crossing of the final threshold.threshold, a descent into that gravitational well. Trapped.When our contact becamebecame not ephemeralfleeting trysts and stolen momentsafternoons stolen from her unspoken duties in that village. But a march toward the end.
“Um. Eta? Athna? I hatereally hatereally hate this… but…but… my dad finally did itkicked me out of the nest and…and… there’s not really anyone else…else who wants to take mesomeone like me…”
Enervated,Energy had drained from her voice, severed,antennae drooped like strands of a severed web, extinguishedeven her wings seemed dull in the light. An entropy‍-​victim.Must all wane?this world erode us.all life’s beauty and joy? Oh Meliflora…Meliflora…
At length, shelength—as if exacted by tremendous effort—she voiced the request. “Do you think I could…could staybe here? As a home?With you two? For…Forever?”
Must I continue?

We’re only delaying the deserved conclusionthronecagecage—no, execution.execution. Aren’t you still hungry?hungry? (We always have room for more.more, mother always said.) You know.know where this leads.
Dead.She’sMelifloraBecauseBecause of you,Because of me,Because of us,Because— Meliflora is dead.dead.dead.
Two suspects, one corpse.corpse. A secret kept only if the former joins the latter.latter.

“Secret?”“But the diet of spiders is no secret, sister.”sister.”
I caught you at the scene.scene. So why did I startle?startle? “What did you do?”do? What happened, Athna?” I demanded.demanded. Rarely do I make so loud a noise.noise—so desperately emphatic.emphatic. I needed to know.know, more than I’d needed anything.
I looked to you.you. And I listened.listened. And I waited.waited. Oh, why make me wait?wait?
“Must we?we commit to laying the blame on one fang or the other?other? Are we not sisters?sisters? Is it not all the more intriguing for the ambiguityambiguity—the richnessricheness—the possibility? Yes.Yes. More fruit lay in that, inthat than any mere matter of fact.fact. Oh, I always lovedhated mysteries. Trouble me not with ’yes’s or ’no’s.’no’s. Trouble me not with answers.” You seemed so bored.bored.
“Never a straight answerword spoken from your mouth.” I sighed.sighed. What did I expect?expect? “Even when lives are at stake.” Sounded lamepetulant even as I said it.it. At stake?stake? Meliflora is already dead.dead.
Yet youYet—despite my interuption—you were still going, and continued.continued, “I preferIt is the inherent superiority of a story told rather than written.written. What is writtenOnce meaning is sentenced to writing, it must be, and always so.so. Oh, the poverty of that stasis.” A pause.pause, for rhetoric, or your own stamina.stamina. “Consider contrast.this story: She is a dove, I said.said. Then I amend, No, she is a lion.lion. Then, She has eyes the color of the sea.sea. Then, No, she has no eyes.eyes. Is this freedom not exhilaratingexhilarating for us both?”
“You revel in contradiction.”contradiction,” I spat.spat.
A nod. “It is revelatory.revelatory. Like a fine spider’s web, branching beautifully.beautifully. Noble.This is the noble charge of the hunter‍-​story‍-​teller.hunter‍-​storyteller—once we have sated the apetites of our bodies?bodies, weave us another coccoon for the mind.mind. Bring a world to life—and kill it.””
(Athna?Sister?Perhaps I truly must…mustshall heed your words, in the end.) ThePlace
Place an epitaph —metamorphosis.providence.everything in its demise.forever doomed.devoured.for love..
Acceptance.“Is it so hard to accept?”accept?” You gave that scrape of chelicera.chelicera. ThatThat fucking laugh.laugh. “She asked for it.it, remember?remember? Weave me another cocoon, she mewled.mewled. How do you stand that voice?voice—like birds whining? Oh that embracehow she thought it’d be romanticlike an embraceembrace—or something more prurient. To be held.held, to be hungered for.for, to be enjoyed—forever.”
You dare?I just snarled.snarled. All my will not to lunge.lunge, fangs out.drive the points of my fangs into your eyes.eyes.
Back up.You took a step back.back, without looking any less smug.smug. “She was so tightly wrapped.wrapped—bound just right. Eta?Eta? Are you still jealousenvious of me, oh sister mine?” Not a smile.smile, but a curve like a hidden blade.blade.
I backed up.up. Looked less fierce for it.it. But I insisted, “NeverI could never have managed something like thatthat cocoon—you know it well.” Something trembled.trembled.
“You lackednever managed it because you lacked the hunger,hunger—till now. But you know it,it. DeepThe desire deep in your core—the certainty that the morsel ismorsel is beneath you and yours,yours to use as you wish,wish. Your whole life without thatyour heart thundering with that craving.craving—but now, is such a thrill not worth everything?” you said.said. “You are a hunter.”hunter, and you found your prey.”prey.”
“She—she was moremoreso much more than prey,” I said.said. “She didn’t have to die!”die!”
“Oh, but everything dies.dies, fool sisterlittle Eta. Feast now.And that we can kill, we can feast upon.upon. Shouldn’t you be proud?” You shook your palps.palps—taunting, disapproving.disapproving.
“I didn’t want this.”this—I never wanted this.”this.” Small palps, trembling palps.palps. “I didn’t.”didn’t.”
“And now, look at you.you. BloodHer blood drips from theyour web.web; your eyes searchingsearching so keenly, mouthparts workingworking so tensely, fangs still wetfangs still wet so ravenously. Nature’s course.YouEven you could not resist—yet youyou ask I claim it my act. You seek to blame me for nature’s course?” Taller.Above me.me. You stepped closer. You raised a leg.leg. It fell upon my head.head. “Must I absolve you, miserable spider?”spider?”
“Is—” My voice broke.broke. I couldn’t sustain the ragerage—couldn’t sustain the denialdenial—or anything. I just couldn’t.couldn’t. You are, after all…all… “Isn’t that what sisters are for?”for?” Was I begging?begging—for what?what?
“Not at all.all. Have you not learned it well and true by now?now? Through death it is that we resolve the contradictions of life.life—we are royal judges in the court of kingdom animalia.” Heavy.Heavy, your weight pressed down on me.me. Rubbing, scratching—comforting.comforting. “Shame not our dutypleasurenature,” you tell me.me.
“How does that—”that—”
“Simply mourn.Mourn this the loss of your child‍-​heart.child‍-​heart—and then you may thank me for it.it, or grip your pride and thank yourself.” You stopped, lifting your foreleg.foreleg. I let out a sound.sound—beyond description.description.

And now, at last: the grand finale.finale, the climax.climax, my heart.the heart of the matter.matter. You called yourself a judge?judge—what shall be my sentence?

Honestly?AmAthna?WhatI keep asking myself: what would you say now? Cry theatrics?Call it another act?act? “Theatrics.”“Trivial,“It’s a simple story, despite the theatrics.”theatrics.”
Yet I weave.weave and I weave.weave and I weave.weave. Is it worthinviting more trouble?trouble? Reading this transactsdemandsdevours your time.time. Yet thisYet—how could I forget? This waswas, like so many mistakes, your idea.idea.
Branching.NotCommitting our acts not to a record, but a web.web. Already the task before me seems so grueling.grueling—and so tedious.tedious. This matter grows more deeply entangled by the link.link, like draping myself in a thorn‍-​quilt. For what?
You thought this more true.true, more noble.noble, more insightful.insightful. Or so it seemed through the scrim of your diction. Why bother?
Did you stillever think you might find meaninghunt down your true ravin if you look close enough?enough? Tracing down every line to the very end?end?
Why am I even writing to you?you? Must I hopebelieveinsist that enough verbiage would justify?explain it all away?away, justify that night?
JudgementEven the foreshadow of judgement weighs.weighs—crushing and cracking my chitin.chitin.
“It’s no rope you’ve been weaving, is it?weaving, nor ladder out of this hell.hell. Every line written is but another snare.snare. You know your doom like damned old friend.” I fray.I fray. I unravel.
Oh Athna…Athna… we’ve made quite the mess here, haven’t we?

Am I being dramatic?hysterical?only myself, after all?
Please.ForgiveWhyWhy not forgivecondemn me?me, sister?you traitor? WhatYour judgment—what else?else could follow?be more fitting?vapid?meaningless?
Stop.I’m done.done. It’sWhat’s done is done. Now stop.Please stop peering.peering. Satisfied?You’re never satisfied.satisfied. Nor am I.I. But…But… Why? Fate? I knowbelieveconcludehopeknow it waswasn’twaswasn’twaswasn’twaswasn’t fate?fate, then.fate—but…—so why…why did…did I…you…we…anyone…it need…alwaysever need to—to change?
Of course.course. Revealed there.there, belabored now.now, yet already written.writtenobviousprefigured in itsmy conceptiondeception. Alas.I willcan dissembleelaborateexplorestomach this no longer no longer. Meliflora…Athna…Mother…Just—
Weave me another cocoon.cocoon. I tire of this life.life—and its enantiodromia.