Spinner

Spinner

“I’m not crazy,” she said.

He sat in the cold metal chair across the table from her. Her peppery hair fell slightly over her forehead and her silver glasses perched arrogantly on her nose. She looked much older than she was.

“That’s not what you are being accused of,” he said as he scribbled in his little notebook.

“Ah yes,” she argued, “how could I forget? I’m accused of witchcraft, am I not?”

He looked up from his notebook, his eyes grim, “You are.”

“Do you believe it?”

His nose crinkled just a bit and the crow’s feet around his eyes deepened, “No, you’re just a girl.”

She shook her head, “I’m not just a girl, I’m a Spinner.”

Grumbling beneath his breath, he wrote furiously, his black pen flying across the paper.

“Like a spider. A Spinner,” she told him, her voice soft.

“A spider spins a web, what is it, Carlene, that you are spinning?”

“I’m spinning a web as well.”

“Are you spinning a web of lies?”

She rolled her eyes, “No. Tonight, I’m spinning a web of dreams.”

“Dreams,” he repeated.

Leaning forward, she placed her elbows on the table and stared into his face, “Yes, dreams.”

“We all dream, that doesn’t make you special.”

She laughed, “True, Mister Jericho, but I don’t Spin my own dreams.”

He glared at her, sure his disgust was obvious.

She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest, “Do you believe you are sitting here with me now? In the flesh, having this little interview?”

For a brief moment, his heart skipped a beat. He picked up his pen, stared down at his paper, then dropped it without having written a thing.

She continued, “The answer is no, Mister Jericho, we have yet to become acquainted.”

“Enough,” he roared.

“Some things aren’t explainable,” She smiled at him, “but murder, now that is definitely explainable. Will you allow them to murder me, Mister Jericho? Hang me from the willow?”

“A Spinner? We call you witches! We thought you were all dead,” he shook his head, “How? We crucified all of you!”

She glared at him, her rage creating an illusion of fire in her amber eyes, “We survived. I survived. And I’ve spun your web.”

Jericho woke suddenly, his body dripping with sweat. He stood and turned to the bathroom. He tried to remember his dream clearly but his thoughts strayed to his first appointment of the day. Carlene Jacobs. Fourteen. Accused. Initial interview.

Witch. They wanted her hung from the tree in the town square. His job was to interview her, confirm her guilt.

The eight legged monster hanging in a corner web of the bathroom caught his attention. He clutched at his chest and fell against the porcelain sink, gasping for breath as the spider meticulously wrapped its prey in silken strands. Jericho convulsed as he slid to the floor and her voice echoed in his head, “I’ve spun your web.” Witch. She’d Spun him to death.

Word Count: 500

Prompt: Spinning a Web

Written for: "COLORING THE WORLD CONTEST "