by Ben Allen

Created on: July 13, 2009

Miles stepped through the doorway leading out to the deck and slid the glass door closed behind him. He carried his towel over one bare shoulder and paused next to the table by the shallow end of the pool. It was an amoeba shape, starting from three feet and lowering to six on the far side of the yard. A slide towered over the eastern edge of the pool, curving to the surface of the glistening aqua blue and green water. At the far end, his parents had installed a rock wall with a miniature waterfall pouring over the stones majestically.

Massaging cool sunscreen over his arms and chest, Miles squinted to the blue sky above. Mountains of fluffy white cloud soared across the dome surrounding their central Louisiana speck on the vast globe that was Earth. Once he finished rubbing the lotion over his legs and squishing the gooey white between his toes, Miles jumped in the pool with a splash.

The water was cold at first, but after a few minutes it was like being caressed with liquid velvet. He dove and swam around like a dolphin from shallow to deep. Miles wasn't much of a swimmer, but he'd done it enough to know the basics and imagined he'd be able to survive for a few hours if somehow he was stranded in the middle of the ocean for a long period of time.

After awhile of this, Miles laid on his back and let the wind guide him. In the summer, this was his favorite pass time: just feeling the gentle sway of the pool below with his eyes closed to the bright sun overhead. Nothing was more zen-ful than being at peace and calamity with the waves. Arms and legs spread like a starfish, Miles floated around the pool for at least ten minutes before he felt it.

Something crawling and tickling on his stomach met his brain, which sent a surge of chills down his spine to the tips of his toes. Miles opened his eyes and felt the ice cold of the air and water in unison. His stomach clenched and his jaw dropped a little. Sitting on his stomach, not an inch from his bellybutton was a small black spider. Its abdomen was fat and its thinner upper body was the meeting place of eight long, sharp legs. On its underside, Miles could just make out a shiny red hour-glass from his laid back position. It was a Black Widow - no doubt about it. Looking around, he noticed the slide nearby where the widow's web and home resided. She fell onto his stomach - or jumped - while he floated under the minute extension of slide over the pool.

His mind whirred. He could make a move to swipe her off, but she might

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