They came in the night and wrecked my home.

My family was scattered, fleeing to safe havens. I sat alone in the inky darkness. Who would do such a thing and why?

It could have been the wind. Had blowing blustery breezy breaths caused my structure to topple? Or was it enemies I had made, jealous of my designs? Elaborate constructions well known, the envy of many.

No. This was not a chance gust of air. It was not the demented wrath of a rival. This devastation spoke of THEM! Predators who swoop like winged phantoms. Whispers in our family lore spoke of Giant Troll-like home-wreckers, who have no regard for property or edifice. All they know is pull down and destroy.

Slithering like slimy snakes in the shadowy starlit night they wrecked my habitat. Ripping, tearing it apart, and throwing it down to the ground piece by piece. Nothing was left but a vacuous hole, tormenting me for not building stronger.

“Next time I will make it stronger,” I reasoned. Why procrastinate? I spun a new line and dropped. Attaching the peripheral anchors I began to weave my web. It would be bigger, better and bastion-like this time! Let them come!