The Post Fable
Created | Updated Oct 27, 2004
The Old Lace Widow
The consequences of her actions didn't once pass through her mind. He deserved it. More so, she deserved it. It had been far too long.
Sitting at home, literally twiddling her thumbs waiting for him. Anyone, really. Knitting just didn't cut it. It wasn't the fact that she'd been trying to master the same pattern for so long; just, it was monotonous now.
She'd so often looked up, expecting a visitor, almost smelling them on the wind. But, time after time there was no one. She'd taken to pacing, then to sitting again. Anything to break routine.
Then, that morning, he'd appeared. Most unexpectedly. She wasn't even aware he was there for almost five minutes, so engrossed in her own reverie. She'd seen him moving, slightly agitated she thought at first. Nervous even. So she dropped her knitting, even though the piece was almost complete. A visitor! She couldn't hide her excitement and almost ran to him, but stopped when the distance between them shrank to a comfortable margin.
'Hello dear.'
He shook a little, and she lowered her tone slightly.
'Sorry my love, just it's been ever so long since someone's dropped in. I'm all jittery!'
She thought she noticed a smile then, but wasn't sure.
'Can I get you anything? No? Well you do look a little uncomfortable.'
A shake of the head.
'Quiet aren't you?'
A nod.
She stroked her arm thoughtfully.
'Well, now you're here and I've introduced myself, I guess we should sort out your time here.'
He shook his head wildly, but it soon stopped when she sank her fangs into his body and carefully wrapped his shuddering form in her webs.
'You'll do nicely when I get peckish later, m'lad. I think so. Yes. You'll do nicely.'
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