Mary-Cade Mandus - The Spell Bound

The bantam cock declared it a new day. Torin stretched, rolled over and through drowsy lids watched the never-ending cycle of dowdy night metamorphosing into resplendent dawn.

As curious sunlight slipped through the partially opened door and the loft gradually brightened, his eyes perceived a change and nudged his groggy brain to take notice. Curiously, the room seemed less vast, the walls closer. Presuming the phenomena a by-product of sleep-fogged eyes he gave them a leisurely rub. That, however, did not do the trick. The walls were indeed much nearer and, upon closer inspection, appeared to be screened by a thick haze or gauze.

Now fully awake he gaped open-mouthed at the monstrous web that enveloped the loft from floor to ceiling and from wall to wall. Only the loft door had been left uncovered. Tightly woven, the web undulated gently on the morning breeze and as the sun penetrated further he could make out words embroidered in a bright reddish script across its surface. It was a spider’s giant sampler.

Rushing to the door he slid it fully open allowing brighter, stronger light to spill in, then searched for a better vantage point from which to view the miraculous missive. Climbing to the top of a stack of hay bales he found that the words flowed clockwise, the opening narrative beginning at the top of the wall to the right of the door.