christopher williams

The Web

The dirty matted fur of the rat twitched back and forth shaking off the rusty mud of the old drainpipe, as its nose flared open and closed smelling the air for the tiniest scent of a possible meal or drink. Its ears scanned for any sound of life in the gentle breeze blowing through the cracked window. The morning’s dew droplets hung on the thin white threads of the large web. The thirsty rat ran across the large canvas book and stood on an old pile of brittle bones, carefully balancing on its thin hind legs. Up it reached with the front legs grasping in the air like an invisible ladder and nudged the web to free the suspended nectar into its mouth.