In the case of a Plastic Web by Mikayla Servis
My velvety labyrinth typically contained only solace, so much of it spun in every taut strand of my home that it was inevitably enough to stimulate my anxieties. The tower in
which my newest home was located unconsciously provided its musky aroma, apart
from today. A metallic like sensation frothed at my limbs, I quickly realized
it was not the tree’s nectar. The substance grabbed at me as if forbidding me
to leave my homestead in an ominous fashion. Inching towards the ground with
the leaves, I noticed an alien.
In this lifetime, not once have I come into contact with these creatures. The limited
wisdom I contained was merely based off gossip I did not partake in.
Disregarding the repulsive rumors I had overheard, I was intrigued, as if the
beast before me was an enigma of some sort. The creature was dearly clutching a
document of clear significance, due to the reflective yellow seal. A tiny flame
danced in the human’s palm, which it then tossed down on a pile of bramble,
igniting it ferociously.
I once had a friend, a friend who had in fact boarded with these animals. She had unknowingly webbed in their very home. Regarding my partiality for the tales of humans along
with their apparent deceptive nature, my fellow eight-legged pal had recited it
a disquisition. The single conundrum that irked my inquisitive mind was the one
pertaining to how fabricated she told her recollection. Paradoxically, a
friendship had blossomed between her and the hatchling of the stead she resided
in. She construed the child; I believe that is what they are called, as a
mercurial one at that, as well as malevolent with an admirable demeanor. She
disclosed that the elders were all fictitious, and that she occasionally felt
sorrow for their confinement to their plastic world. The ones who had birthed
her beloved acquaintance, were extensively perplexed as to how their son had
developed to be such a cynic, which merely encouraged him to declare his malice
towards them directly to my friend. Apparently it is deemed screwy of a person
to speak to us, for they have the notion that we are not any level of
cognitive. Ignorant they proved to be, though, for it was not irony that the
young male had thereafter penetrated his guardians with venomous ammunition,
leaving their corpses for my friend to claim as a home.
My friend was killed as they were discovered, in the same frame she had revealed this
horrendous situation to me. I frequently pondered the child’s fate. “Aidan” is
what he was called, I believe. I desired, often, to learn from Aidan, the
counterfeit society he had grown in, and expected to remain loyal and according
to, the restraint labeled as ethics. Hardly do I feel ludicrous for craving
such insight, though I am ashamed of the way I romanticize this horrible
creature.
I then realized the alien that was in front of me had dispersed, only the flaring paper remaining. Questioningly, I approached the crumbling forum. Following some speculation I
noted it was a certificate of importance, a declaration of existence. “Aidan”
was the single word I recognized.