tangled

The story is always the same. Bright lights attract her as a hypnotic scent. She can not resist to approach and begin her dance, a hymeneal dance. The Light warms the dark corner, that darkness that mysterious draws her although it makes her frightened. In that mirage, every touch of the sticky web covers her little by little. The tuch of the web is warm, she likes it. The more the dance, the web surround and limits her movements. Finally, she's completely wrapped, standing still, numb... Time seems to have stopped.

The transformation begins.

The shroud turned into dust and felt off, her body was now clean.

The pray became predator.