Indentured Servitude


She weaved a web with her tattered worn clothes, she walked away from the strands that clung unto her woven frayed box. Splinters interlaced her web and punctured more of her garments that tattered onto her horrid webbed wooden box. An unsightly box stood there wrapped around the web underneath the rusty nails that she laid her pretty little head. Fragile, volatile, soft and so used, how could the web entangle her into this web she already once knew. Locked in a box was her indentured servitude as the box was filled with rusty nails and something that couldn’t be true. The box laid cold, musty and diseased with lies for one who dared to venture through the darken box would only come to their own putrid demise. For he could undertake this perilous webbed path as he peered with his helpless eyes. How the web had entangled him into the box barely scraping his fearless hands, gripping the splinters and rusted nails as he clutched onto her strands that she carelessly left behind. There they both rest now under the wooden tattered entangled box. Her indentured servitude remained as she weaved a web with her tattered worn clothes and now the splinters punctured his sad little demise.

Karen S-K
Copyright 2015
All rights reserved

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s