The Spider's Bench | Celeste Johnson

The emerald bench sits alone in the hot summer afternoon, its glossy finish glistening in the blistering heat. I imagine if some ill-fated person sat on it right now, their fleshy legs would sizzle like a steak on a BBQ. And like a Jack-in-the-Box, they would shoot up off the bench, but not before they would be branded with unfortunate zebra stripes.

But I am not here to describe the bench to you. If you look closely, you will realize the bench is not alone. A sneaky spider has spun its silky web and declared the bench its home. I don't see the spider from where I sit, but his silently spun web. When the shadows cast from the trees fall upon it, I can scarcely see it. Luckily today there is a slight breeze which makes the leaves in the neighboring tree dance around letting me catch glimpses of the web glistening in the intermittent sunlight.