They used to call Norman lazy, slothful. His life consisted of a few work-from-home hours a day, and a lot of MMORPG playing. He was a marketing genius. Placing ads for a marketing company paid the bills, fed him, and left just enough for online gaming.

His gut expanded, and his hair fell out in a recession as subtle as a market crash. A face that didn’t start out as handsome soon resembled the pizza that was his diet staple. All in all, he was happy, and a perfect victim.

The gaming ended a year ago, or more. His hours were spent in tedium. Instead of organizing a team effort against boss monsters in the virtual world, he sewed.

The silken threads occupied his mind. It was an adjustment, at first, learning to manipulate the delicate silken threads into useful devices. His meaty hands weren’t meant for such intricate work. His teacher was the epitome of patience.

Norman was hungry. He hadn’t eaten in two days. The quota needed filling if he wanted to nourish himself. That was the bargain. As his body weakened, his mind skipped knits in the pattern. The weaves suffered. All he needed to do was fight through the delirium. If he failed, he would be replaced by the next student. Nobody wanted that.

“Almost there. Just a few more stitches.” He chortled like a maniac as his goal neared completion. It was more difficult each time. He knew he must eventually fail and become victim to the threads.

“I’m done.” Norman held his creation up. It was nothing more than an intricately weaved square. The patterns seemed like nonsense, but Norman knew they held significance.

He moved to the doorway. The light outside burned his retinae. The windows for the long-deserted store were all blacked out—except the door. Norman reached up and stuck the ends of his patterned square to the corners. And then did the same to the bottom.
Sunlight hit the patterns and they reflected like diamonds on a black cloth. Norman turned away as the lure called to him, tried to draw him in. A prickling sensation on his head curbed the desire to run into the net.

The eight-legged alien dug into Norman’s head with its proboscis, stimulating a part of his brain. Norman went to the back of the store. Man shapes wiggled inside their webbed traps. Norman retrieved a long butcher’s knife. He walked up to one of the victims and jammed the blade into it.

The alien unwrapped the human from the weaves and started to feast on the warm human flesh.

Norman carved out pieces for himself before the flesh could cool.