Microfiction | Spider Gods | Fantasy
Weaving Fate
Not everything is within our control…
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‘Hmm…’ Grandmother Fate peered across her shimmering web. ‘This story… and that story…’ She stretched out her long limbs, pulling the sticky strands together, weaving them in and out, close here, further apart there, tighter and tighter until they became a single thread.
On earth they bumped into each other, his daughter’s icecream leaving a sticky smear on her dress.
‘I’m so sorry.’ He offered her napkins to wipe herself down.
‘It’s fine.’ She accepted them, cleaning away the worst of it. ‘Not like it hasn’t happened before.’ She nodded to her sleeping toddler, in the pram, and glanced up to meet his gaze.
Their eyes sparked, faces flushing as each turned away.
‘My husband — ’ she began.
‘My wife — ’ he explained.
They bustled away, too scared to look back.
In the heaven’s Grandmother Fate smiled. ‘One day,’ she promised them. ‘One day.’
This story was inspired by Microcosm’s writing prompt:
