Sundays.

I hope it's no secret that I'm not fond of Sundays.

Haven't been in years.

Not that the day itself brings a loathing, but the nights have rarely ended well.

And the days start with so much promise.

For years and years Karma has corrected itself on Sundays.

I say corrected, but I just mean that it sucks. I'm not exactly a believer in Karma these days. The negative weighs too heavily on me. I need to sort it out better...

.............................................................

So you've inspired me to write some, I guess. A silly thing, to be sure.

A story that has been written once, and changed twice.

I often find myself alone in the woods.

It's better this way.

None of the mindless to take it away from you, and no one to distract me.

I found I am often set upon by the perils here in, nothing is ever life threatening.

I have squashed spiders before, though they have left marks.

Until I found you. In peril, yes? Fighting for your life from the spiders, maybe?

Not hardly.

I saved you, you damsel in distress.

I saved you and for a time we lived happy.

For a time we had relative peace.

All of it lies though.

Skilled woodsman? Not hardly.

Fooled by the queen of spiders, is all.

At once you struck and snapped it all.

Nearly lifeless I made it out, to hide, to recouperate, not fearing the animals here-in, but unable to truly fight if my life depended on it, so I puffed myself out, and I hid behind the lies here-in.

Until I found another.

Why must you all be spiders here?

My bow, my defender of souls is all that I can carry with me.

Uncertain as she may be, she has defended mine much more than you might imagine.

Much more than I tell her.

But never a thanks.

Odd... This must be remedied.

But the point is that I should just shoot on site.

It would be better that way.

I am not immune to the bite, or immune to the poison.

As innocent as you may seem, it is always better to shoot first.

But I can't. I'm not that type, not that hunter.

And you are so innocent to behold...

Until you bite.

You have struck at me once.

And you, you always strike at me for the love to see me squirm.

One of you has nearly killed me.

I suppose I'm just waiting for the next one to finish me off.

Not quite ready to take another.

I need to make it a fight, this next time...

Into the woods... bum... bum... into the woods... bum.. bum...