What he really wanted was The Fly. And Oh, I know what youre thinking, "such legs, such eyes".. But No, no, you have to believe me, because it wasnt about that, this time. "This time it was different" he sweared. She wasnt just another piece of meat to suck dry and throw away. This one was special. This one had attitude.

It was the way she moved: certain, sexy, (dare I say it?) fly.. Such zest, such life, I mean, hey, its really not at all surprising that he became as obsessed as he did. That he'd spend endless nights working out hypothetical histories, dreaming up their inevitable union, fantasizing, romanticizing the different ways they'd finally be together. Oh, it was unhealthy, alright. Trust me.

But I suppose if anyone was going to be responsible for such a state of mind, it HAD to be her. For he might have said it was "different this time", but believe you me, those eyes, those legs, were oh so very fine.

He didnt know in the slightest what was happening to him. Not a clue that he'd ever develop such a taste, such a need for her time, her company. It was all so gradual, his resistance, so unremarkably slipping. But eventually, as it was bound to, it happened. And one morning, he woke up and decided that things were going to change. That she was truly the one for him. And he was going to do everything in his power to make her his. Which leads us to the second part of this story.

He got to work. Took time to himself. Started first by building a web, which would trap her whilst she least expected it. Bring her to his grasp. The web was built out of lines, and the lines he would use, they were all intertwining, layered, wide in scope, multi-dimensioned, all leading up to one central (obviously forgone) conclusion. The web was work, but work was what he had to do. Work led to results, success, exactly what you needed to get whatever it is you want to get. This wasnt the time to leave it up to fate or destiny. Those games of intuition and gut feel were for the past, for those lesser insects he wasnt really that interested in. This time was different. No way was he going to leave it to chance. If ever an occasion called for preparation, this was it.

He chose the location with care, the angle with consideration, the threads, calculated, everything tested. To endure time, the weather, be firm, yet flexible. And most importantly, it had to be delicate and subtle enough, that she just might land on it without noticing. And for quite a while it seemed like it just might have worked.

She came to see him, pretty frequently. Her visits were always unannounced, yet expected. Teasing, she'd flirt in and out of the holes in his web. Occasionally allowing a wing to stroke a thread or two, but never letting herself get caught. Cleverly, avoiding the lines he so cleverly laid out in the first place. Lines that might have worked! But she simply refused to entertain them.

Still, she'd return. And he held on to hope. That one day, she would stay for good. And so, another day would pass, him in eager anticipation, always adjusting, fine-tuning, re-building his web, his life around this one dame.

But then, one autumn morning, something strange happened. Something disastrous which he didnt plan for at all. His web had caught something. But it wasnt the fly. It was a leaf.

The leaf had fallen from a tree nearby, out of the sky, into his web. She'd turn red, and gush, and insisted it wasnt him she fell for. But you'd expect that sort of thing from her. To his annoyance, she's talk a bit more about her weekend and her summer, excuses, lengthy, on how she ended up at this particular neighbourhood, this particular door. Her frame was delicate, verging on brittle, and he dared not let her fall any further, for surely she wouldnt last long after that. So he let her stay the night, observing her incessant chatter, foreign accent and a most curiously transient complexion.

The fly came the next morning, unannounced, but expected as always. And her eyes, compounded, saw the leaf trapped on the web. And in seeing this, saw the web for the first time in her life. Saw it for what it really was. The spider had no chance to draw her closer. He saw this in her embarrassment, the sudden change in her swagger. And this made him feel embarrassed. The game was over. No words were exchanged. Too awkward for goodbyes, it was as silent as dawn.

---

The leaf stayed on the web for a few more weeks, growing weaker by the minute, keeping him company before the inevitable happened, and she withered away from his world. And when that had finally happened, he decided, he would go forth, build a new web and get on with his life.



Sometimes he'd reminiscent and think about the fly. All the possibilities and outcomes that could have occurred. And whether or not he'd ever see her again.