itsy bitsy spider

"To say that aspiring young writer Ned Walters was having a rather difficult time would be a... um... stupendous understatement, yes! A stupendous understatement indeed!" narrated Ned, as he made his way through the wet and winding cobblestone-lined streets. Despite his only passion for writing, Ned wasn't great with words. He knew that.

"I mean really!" he exasperated, "how could Ned lose a job as easy as stuffing fortune cookies! Why can't he just learn to let the words be? That was his only chance at a job and he blew it!" The pouring rain and the fleeting headlights of an automobile pierced the dense black smog. Though his vision was clouded, Ned knew exactly where he was going.

"And what a laughing stock he made of himself in front of Dorothy of all people, dropping that bucket and slipping on all the old fortune cookie papers! Those fortune cookies were no help there now, huh Ned?" He went into dark, hazardous places. As did his thoughts. He didn't care.

"My boss was right, about everything. I'm a nervous stuttering wreck of a writer. And I'm soo tired"

Ned neared his final destination, the damp stench of sewage began to fill the air. He slipped down onto a narrow walkway adjacent to a large open drainage line and made way for the place of oncoming floodwaters. Stooping through several low archways with dreadful purpose, he was startled by the appalling sight of a perfect spider's web blocking his path and very near to his face. Ned had had an irrational fear of spiders for as long as he can remember--he never could figure out why.

"EE-YIKES!" He staggered backwards a pace or two. After regaining his composure (or whatever of it he had left), Ned scanned his surroundings for a pole or something for which he can cut down the web, but found nothing. He attempted to maneuver around the web, but the drop into the pipe was too far. He then looked squarely into his childhood nemesis.

"This is just too silly!" Ned laughed at himself, the hollow noise echoing throughout the tunnels. He slumped to the cold stone floor, lamenting over his foiled attempt at escape. At his attempt at life. A feeling of emptiness overtook him. He glanced blankly once more at the web; it held his gaze.

"Where is your maker?" Ned asked of the web, hanging delicately from the archway. But the maker was out of sight. Ned's eyes strayed towards a waterspout between him and the web. It is here under the faucet that the maker was found. Ned didn't flinch. The spider took little notice of him.

She ascended the spout at a steady pace, probably off to attend to a fresh meal at her web. The surface was rough, but it didn't faze the spider. Ned couldn't help but admire her for her persistence amidst the bleakness of the sewer and hardship surrounding them. He might have just been projecting though...

The drainage pipes had been filling up fast near their location. The spout in particular had burst forth liquids of nasty hues, causing the spider to lose her footing and plummet. Deep concern afflicted Ned, and he stared alertly at the base of the cascade for an agonizingly long period of time. He had thought for sure she had died from the fall. But she stood once again. Joyful noises ensued. The sun revealed itself for the first time in months. And she made her way up once again.

Tears of joy filled Ned's eyes. Purpose filled his heart. He went to stand up, but alas! Little did he know that the larger drainage pipes had been filling up as well. Torrential currents chest-high swept his feet out out from beneath him. His senses were overwhelmed. But amidst the hopelessness of it all, he reached out. It was not in vain.