The Webs We Weave
Authors Note: Did you know, Said the Spider to the Fly is the only story I've ever completed at novel length? Well it's true. Over two hundred pages long, it is. It's become a part of me, even though it's been so long since I finished writing it. Almost a full year, and I simply can't get it out of my head. For those of you who don't know, I'm using what I have as a sort of manuscript, and I'm revising the story from what is posted on this account, in hopes of getting it published at some point. Hopefully some point soon. I've realized that this story is the reason I can't fully concentrate on any other worthwhile series right now.
So now that I've bored you with that, I'll explain myself. Today (the day I started writing this piece you're reading now - Friday, July 31st, 2009) I was rereading the reviews that people left on Said the Spider... (you guys are so great, and I love you all.) But there was one thing I noticed, that no one really brought up; I didn't fully explain certain things during the course of my story. Did people not bring it up because they felt it wasn't important? Did they not notice? Did they not want to hurt my feelings? I don't know, but as I've realized this it's begun to bother me, because the people who read my work deserve more than a hole-ridden plotline, resting on shoddy woodwork.
The Webs We Weave will be a series of drabbles, one-shots, and shorts addressing certain aspects of the story that I want to expand upon (and if you guys have any questions relating to the story, I'd be happy to address them.) Old characters may make appearances, and in such cases I'll note at which point in the timeline the piece takes place. New characters, never before seen will be introduced, and perhaps even a deeper look at the aftermath of the events in Said the Spider... And I can almost promise you the events in this multipart will be nonlinear. I'll note when things connect, and when they do not.
Living every moment, Nix.
Pre-Said the Spider...
"Dude," sounded almost like a gasp from behind him. A very worried gasp. "You okay?"
Except, when people put it like that did they really expect him to be honest? Sometimes it was as if they expected him to cross his arms, laugh, and say, "Perfectly alright, ol' chap!" And mean it. Psht. As if. That alone made the situation laughable, so leaning over the sink in the bathroom, scooping water into his cupped hand as if flew from the faucet to wash the tangy taste of something oddly familiar from his mouth, he glared dismally up at the concerned figure.
"Jeeze. Sorry," the young man recoiled, rubbing the back of his neck when he saw the almost anger in the eyes addressing him. "I was just worried, you know?"
"Yeah," he admitted. "I know." But that didn't make it any better. Didn't annoy him any less. He knew people were going to be worried, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. Well, except nip the worry before it could find its way to fruition. "I know."
"So..." Tentative. "Are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Okay?" At the confused expression, the boy repeated, "Are you okay?"
Spitting a glob of - Holy shit, is that blood? - from his mouth, and washing it down the drain before his classmate could see it, the boy nodded. "Yeah," he muttered. "I'm fine. Just coming down with the flu or something."
"Yeah, well, you sound like you're about to die." And the two suddenly shared a laugh, because it was kind of true. He had been coughing up a lung all day. "Maybe you should go to the doctor."
"I'm fine," he assured.
"Sure you are."
"Go screw yourself." Then, "Have you seen my sister at all?"
"Yeah, Excel was waiting for you near the math room."
"Okay." And he smiled. "Thanks man."
"Not a problem." Then, returning the grin the boy smacked him on the back, and said quite simply, "Get well soon, Johansson, will ya?"
"Ha," he laughed, tone on the cusp of jovial. "Anything for you, bro."