theNewerYork Tweeted this cute little writing prompt on Thursday:
Here was my response:
BUT here's the FULL version:
The belly of death: Hairballs. Dust bunnies. Dead skin. Pubic hair. The back of a sterling silver earring she had lost days ago. The spider crawled around, stumbling over the dirty souvenirs of all their dirty days. One of his legs was gone; he must’ve lost it when he got sucked. There was nowhere to build a web here. Nowhere to feel safe here. He was alone, right next to the dead ladybug that just landed near his seven feet.
Fiction, poetry, and all that good stuff . . .