Nets

v2

The nets...

I lost a leg when I was only three weeks old.

Mum said it would grow back when I got older.

I'm older now and there is still a big space where my leg should
be.

I think she said it to reassure me.

Sam moved closer to the small round window and peered out. His
eyes glazed over and he thought of his brothers and sister who had
left
home. Sam had never had the courage to leave home, his confidence
had been eroded by snide comments and silly nicknames from his
siblings. If only he had stood up for himself he could now be out
there
in the big wide world, making his own home and starting his own
family.

But he had never retaliated. It had been easier to ignore.

He looked down the pathway to the beach on the other side of the
pebbles. He would venture down there one day and show everyone
that he was just like them. He glanced back to the lawn and
imagined
himself running through the grass without a care in the world. A
slight
breeze quivered the sand speckled nets hanging from the tree
branch.
The nets had been patched up by his mum only yesterday after a
particularly messy catch. Mum had told him all the details but it
had
just inclined him even more to avoid having to kill anything.

After all mum was experienced. He was not.

He heard a rustle down below and figured it must be mum coming
in with the food. She had been watching the nets for the last two
hours. She told him stories of his father and of how he could make
a
net and catch a months food in a day. It's all to do with bait
and
breezes apparently.

There was another rustle and then a thump that reverberated the
walls of the home. Perhaps she needed a hand with the catch. It
sounded pretty big. He moved over to the edge of the room and
gazed
down to his mother. Aah yes, she had it all under control now,
she
was just getting it ready for the curing room.

The curing room scared him, he pin-pointed this to Hartley, his
brother, regaling a tale of how mother killed father and put him in
the
curing room. It was obviously complete fantasy but still it had hit
a
nerve. It wasn't a phobia or anything, more of a dread. Like the
dread
he also felt on the rare occasions he did pop his head out of the
front
door, that he would be snatched up by the 'fat old bird' down the
street. Mum had dreamt up this ludicrous story to deter them from
leaving the house when they were younger. It had worked well on
Sam
anyway, too well. Charlotte, a sister, even said once that she had
seen
her, but Charlotte had also backed up the curing room delusion.
So
what was the truth?

Probably safest to stay here tidying the house for mum.

Suddenly the alarm rang, Sam watched his mother dart back out to
the nets and disappear from view. It was certainly turning out to be
a
fruitful evening anyway. He knew she would be delicately feeling
each of the lines tied to the nets, until she'd discerned which area
the
catch was and how big it was. If it was worthwhile then it was
probably entangled in the net by now and ready to be hooked out.

Out of the corner of his eyes Sam noticed movement, it was the
earlier catch on the floor down below, struggling, writhing, trying
to
free its bag. Sam watched it with a mixture of excitement and
apprehension. Here was a prey that couldn't fight back, he could
go
down there and kill it. Unless of course it wasn't so much on it's
way
out of life as rushing back, in full battle mode. In which case he'll
just
stay here and ignore it to death. But the more he ignored it the more
it
thrashed and twisted. It had released its head now, Sam could see
its
beady eyes, if he was going to dispatch it, now would be as good
a
time as any.

...Any longer and it would be flip-flapping everywhere.

...But a bit longer and mum might be back.

...Sam could see the shimmer of its body as the head protruded
further.

...It was now critical point. He stooped down and crawled to a
vantage point ready to strike. It was in his sights, just a pounce
away.
He tensed and willed every muscle and sinew to propel him to
glory.

And then it was over.

Sam looked at the prey beneath him. Well, it was certainly dead.

He felt uplifted, as if being granted access to another door, a
door
that entitled you to better things in life, a start in life. He
remembered
mum saying that generations of our family had survived this way
around the beach, you caught what you needed and you produced the
children, that's the only way that we can keep the heritage
alive.
Though he didn't know anything about heritage he could certainly
get
into the 'catch what you needed' line of thinking. This was his
first
step to being total, his principle confidence booster and he felt
good.

Sam poked the head back into the bag, he'd made quite a mess
with
all the stabbing but he couldn't take any chances. Mum would be
pleased as well. He could see her outside, bagging up the recent
catch.
He wanted to run out to her, to announce to her that he had made
a
killing and that he could accompany her on the nets once he had
crossed the next obstacle, leaving the house. He moved to the
entrance
and tried to catch her attention but her back was to him. She would
be
back in a minute so there was no need to hurry the situation, but
he
was too excited. He crawled to the branch that held the nets and
looked up.

It was huge out here, it was difficult to judge the scale of
yourself
compared to, well, anything. Take the tree for example, it seemed
to
go up for ever and he was just a dot. It brought home how
insignificant he was, what did anyone care about his fears and
phobias. Why did he fear anything? He was just one of millions of
other beings. The scare stories and nick-names faded into obscurity
as
he crawled closer to his mother. He reached out to touch her but
she
already knew he was there as she had eyes in the back of her
head.
She turned to look at him, he could detect pride in her gaze. Sam
motioned to her to come back inside with him but she touched his
head as if to say 'stay there.' He watched as she went back into
the
house. This felt so good, out on his own, two triumphs in one
day.

Later that evening as the sun set on the sea's horizon they
feasted
and Sam retold his story to his mum, not leaving any of the details
out
and interspersing each retelling with 'what if' questions. What if
he
had left it a bit longer before killing it, what if the first stab
had
missed. Mum said the first kill was always the most fulfilling. It
was
something to be learned from, one stab was usually sufficient, 30
or
40 was overkill, but, he re-iterated, he wasn't taking any
chances.

Sam guessed that his mum had left the catch there for him to
dispose of, though she denied it. She did say that she saw him
crawling out of the house and thought it best to stay put and see
what
he would do. It had worked anyway.

The next morning it was starting to rain, mum was already up
untying the alarm lines, the rain drops were setting them off. It was
a
lot more difficult to catch anything in bad weather and the bay
could
really channel up some strong gusts, so it was more sensible to
stay
inside. It was a pity as he wanted to experience the outside
again,
possibly to watch the nets. His Mother was in the curing room
rotating the stock of food and tidying up. They had plenty of
food
now, probably enough to see them through the cold months. They
nearly ran out last time, mum had gone without for a couple of
weeks
and had spent most of her time asleep, conserving energy. She
hadn't
planned on Sam staying but she has for the next time and now he
could join her on the nets. No... Now she could teach him to make
his
own net like she taught the others. He would have no one there to
ridicule him this time, in fact she could teach him now.

Sam crawled over to the curing room and peeked in. He saw about
ten food bags tied to the ceiling, they spun in the draught. But
where
was his mum? Then he saw her, she was at the back huddled up. He
entered the room and inched over. She didn't seem to acknowledge
him, he noticed her eyes were milky and her mouth was open. He
touched her and she keeled over on to her side. Her legs were
pulled
in to her chest and there was no movement at all.

Mum had died.

That night, as the full moon rose, Sam looked through his window
to the beach and mulled over his situation.

He had lost his mother but he had gained his life, he could carry
on
in her name. That would justify his existence and motivate him.
Yes, tomorrow he would fix the nets, rain or shine and if he had a
catch
he would store it next to his mother in the curing room.

He would have to bag his mother tomorrow too, he couldn't let her
go
to waste.

Sam pulled in his legs for warmth.

There was still a space where his eighth limb should be but that
didn't
bother him any more.

He was as capable as any other spider.

By jjbhughes

Dedicated 2 Bek'n'Lec