Jittery Spiders and Saturday Football, Blog, New Digital Art and Photography, Revisited Fiction and Poetry, Spoken Word and Audio



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upon silken strands
not one can master
can fail to get lost
become entangled

surrender the struggle
infinite intricacy
is not to be figured
is not to be controlled
cannot be eluded
escaped from

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tread out onto the abyss
here lies endless fabric
it lies not in the illusion
of strings spun before

dried bones
desiccated shells

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come undone
at its edges
this web is always fraying

tiptoeing upon gossamer ends
waving, weaving into nothing
stop grasping, let go
with your next foothold
creation is assured

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link to spoken word


We had a lovely weekend in these parts. Friday was basketball class and Carnivore pizza while watching Beetlejuice/Betelgeuse. I said it three times and still no super nova lit up the sky, but Michael Keaton certainly did the screen in his very dark and crusty way. It's a great movie and the animation stands the test of time. Typical Burton genius.

Saturday is now football day; at least for the next few weeks, and for however long the UBC Thunderbirds remain alive in the playoffs.

To say it was an exciting game would be an understatement. They were up against the University of Saskatchewan, Huskies, a superior ranked team. UBC began with two touchdowns in succession and a game ending injury to their first string quarterback. The Huskies pretty much dominated from then on, with the TBirds choosing to run the ball. The lead switched hands and then the ball; the TBirds won back the lead with the decision to start throwing the ball. The last few minutes became a one touchdown game. The ball fumble in the end zone after time gave the Tbirds the win and a birth in the playoffs.


Okay, coffee lovers, time to make it to Starbucks and get your Casi Cielo while supplies last. Only available in the fall they tell me. My usual brew is Verona for its smooth dark chocolate and caramel tones, but Casi Cielo takes the smooth, dark chocolate goodness up a notch, with just a hint of lemon to brighten it up. The beans are single origin and from Guatemala. If you love coffee; the taste and smell in your home, you'll want to live in sin with these beans.


The Wisp

A breeze rattled the leaves above. Several shook free and landed on the stone bench Amy and Bara sat upon. The maple held onto its fall color, but the underside of dark limbs stood bare thanks to the strong winds from the night before. Colin stood a few feet away, drinking from a stainless steel cup. Bara was retelling her dream. She finished and waited. A moment passed. He remained silent. A red leaf drifted down and landed on his green scarf. He didn’t bother to brush it away. As though she hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary, he took another sip of his Earl Grey.

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“Well?” Bara prodded.

He raised an eyebrow but still said nothing. Another leaf fell, this time landing in his auburn hair lit ginger by the bright fall sunlight. He remained mute.

“Say something!” she demanded.

He blew on his tea. “It’s weak. I know all you St. Cat girls think the new coffee guy is just so hot, but he can’t make tea to save his life.”

Bara had yet to see the new barista at the Tragic Sip. At that moment, she didn’t care. Colin’s response was too much, or rather too little. She’d had enough. She jumped up from the bench and grabbed the cup from his hand.

“About the dream!”

“It seems pretty obvious to me, Barbie,” he replied without changing his easy tone.

“Yeah? Obvious how?”

He looked at her solemnly.

“You’re haunted.”

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He continued to look at her gravely but then broke into a gigantic toothy grin. Bara was fast. The poor boy didn’t see it coming. With a fluid movement of her arm, she hit him upside the head and removed the leaf that had taken up residence.

“Thanks for nothing,” she said sarcastically.

“Hey, that hurt!”

“It was supposed to.” She removed the lid from his cup, took a sip, and winced. It was indeed weak and in need of lemon. Betty, her mother’s maid, had trained her well. Earl Grey, unlike orange pekoe, took lemon and not milk. Colin rubbed his head.

“The question is what to do about it?”

Amy broke in.

“It’s the Diary. We put it back and all of this will stop.”

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Bara gave Colin back his tea and Amy a look of warning.

“My thoughts exactly,” agreed Colin. “We put it back and maybe some other sucker will find it. All this will stop being our problem. He’ll become the chosen one, Obi Wan Kenobi and all that, but there is …”

Bara interrupted him. “We can’t do that.”

“It all started with that stupid diary,” Amy insisted. “This is getting really weird and not to mention dangerous. You could have been hurt or worse out there in the woods ... or wherever you were. I mean, look at your feet.”

Her feet were in pretty bad shape. They were covered in gauze and antiseptic. It had hurt to walk in her saddle shoes. She wore a pair of red rubber boots which were larger and slightly more comfortable. They clashed with the burgundy tartan of her St. Cat kilt but she didn’t care.

“The thing is … did it really start with the diary?” Colin asked.

Amy glared at him, sensing a mutiny.


“I thought you said putting it back was a good idea?”

He shrugged.

“I knew it was too good to be true that you might actually agree with me over …” Amy trailed off and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I wasn’t allowed to finish.” he took another sip of tea and complained,” Now, it’s cold.”

“Forget the tea!” Bara barked.

“You didn’t find the diary so much as it found you.” Colin pointed out. “And it all started with the dreams, not the diary. Chances are if you put it back, it won’t do any good. The dreams might even get worse. This wisp-woman was pretty determined to get you involved. Then there’s the dream-you with no eyes and a big mouth. That has to mean something.”

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Bara had decided, yet again, to leave out the dark-haired boy’s part in the tale. Amy was being pretty judgmental. Bara wanted to spare him her disdain. It was irrational. She knew. But there was no way she was telling Colin about the dark-haired boy, at least not until she really had to. When she’d come to the part where she found the dark-haired boy, she claimed it was the Wisp. The tale had just rolled on from there, and so as far as her friends knew, the Wisp had led her through the woods, to the lake and the Spiritkin, and saved her from the Wolf.

“There’s no guarantee putting the diary back would change anything.” Colin continued. “This wisp-woman might keep haunting you. There’s something she wants to tell you.”

“What do we do then?” Amy asked. “Let Bara go crazy?”

“I’m not crazy!”

“I didn’t say you are crazy. But come on ... going out into the forest, coming back with torn up feet, but not actually having left your bed. All this stuff about a Slipkin and a silver wolf? A wisp? What the hell is a wisp? Slip spirits? It’s just too much to believe. Maybe you were sleepwalking or something. I just didn’t hear you. I’m a pretty deep sleeper.”


“I’m not going crazy. I don’t walk in my sleep. It happened. You said you believed me.”

“Will you two stop?” Colin snapped.

They gave him a sharp look.

“If we’re going to figure this out,” he said in a much softer tone. “We need to stick together.”


Amy and Bara stopped arguing, but they were still angry. Everyone was angry. Bara was angry with Amy and Colin, Amy with Colin and Bara. Colin was irked that his tea had gone cold, and it was weak. Stupid coffee guy! He dumped what was left into a planter and put his cup away. He looked at Amy apologetically.

“I hate to say it but we have to keep reading the diary. Maybe it’ll give us some answers. Do you have it with you?”

Bara took the diary from her bag. The amber was blinding in the bright sunshine. She and Colin joined Amy on the bench.

Colin read.


link to Audio

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Words and Images are my own.

Spider is published in Monsters, Avatars & Angels. MAAA and the Wisp is available in paperback or digital through amazon and your local libraries and bookstores. Click on any title below to further explore and support my writing.









Totally original in your ideas . Beautiful this verse: this web is always fraying.