The most fascinating thing just happened.
I was sitting here at my desk, trying to write, procrastinating and feeling generally yucky, when I glanced over and noticed motion by my hand.
The sun falling through my window was casting shadows onto my desk. In shadow silhouette, a long-legged spider wickedly attacked a bee. I glanced up at the window, but couldn't locate them. Yet across the surface of my desk the horror-movie scene continued, with the ominous, grappling reach of the spider sending shivers up and down my spine. I swear I heard chord-heavy organ music playing.
I thought frantically. What should I do? Should I run outside and save the bee? But if the spider already injected it with that paralysing poison-juice wouldn't it die anyway? And doesn't the spider deserve to eat as much as the bee deserves to fly?
In fascinated revulsion, I watched, frozen in a few seconds that felt like forever.
Then, just like that, the bee freed itself. It pulled away and flew off.
Sometimes, the world isn't as cruel as it seems. Endings can be happy, even without our intervention.
I feel cheered up.
3 comments:
If you ever write a novel or short story, you HAVE to use this. Seriously. It's a perfect metaphor to describe the external struggles of two characters without coming right out and describing their struggle. Showing the insects instead, particularly in silhouette (suggesting that the main character knows the struggle exists but is powerless to stop it)
I LOVE it when these sorts of things happen to me and I gobble them up for future use.
The play I'm working on deals with a father and son. In it, the father (63) still wears a watch his son (40) gave him 25 years before. The problem is, it's so old it's slowing down. The son demands his father get a new one, the father says no, it's got sentimental value.
I gleaned this from my own experience when I had a watch once that was 10 minutes behind, then an hour, then stopped. I changed the batteries twice to no avail. I just had to come to terms with the fact that sometimes things just slow down to their death
I love the spider and the bee story. Even if the bee had not survived (although its escape adds a great twist to the metaphor) it's usable stuff for narrative
Thanks for sharing (I promise I won't use it!)
:-)
Hi Andrew -
Thanks for drawing my attention to this. While I like to hope that these things lurk around in vague memories, waiting to emerge into my writing, it's always better to have them in the front of the conscious mind.
I do write stories and I think you're right that this would be a powerful image of struggle. I can think of several ways to use it.
I just love that when life hands you stuff! Truly, there's way more material in each day then I can possibly hope to use.
I'll also say this - even though it was my experience, now, because you read about it and thought it through, it's yours as well. So feel free to use it if you can. I'm sure even if we both used this image, it would still be utterly different because the rest of the work would be different.
Plus, there's nothing new under the sun. There just isn't. We are not so much creators, as re-synthesizers.
I love the image of the watch for your play. I just finished writing a really good story (I hope!) that used the La Brea Tar Pits in LA for setting and the central image of tar and bones to carry the theme.
Good writing today!
Marie
That was lovely. A brief moment, packed with so much drama.
I especially like your statement: "Endings can be happy, even without our intervention." It's so true! And I could also relate to your struggle about the rights of each critter.
Thanks for sharing!
Small Footprints
http://reducefootprints.blogspot.com
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