The Deadliest Net

I saw while looking up from there what seemed like a tiny boat, the kind a man might fish from on a small pond. Only this boat was in the middle of the ocean. It floated motionless on the surface, pale green paint clinging in flakes and chips to the sides of its rotting wood. I marveled to see such a small, tattered old craft all the way out here, above the vast depths. Yet I marveled still more when I noticed the woman inside. Grey-haired, bent over, blind, and dressed in a tattered, faded, rose-colored dress. Her face was wrinkled, distorted beyond expression. She appeared motionless, I thought perhaps even dead. But then I observed her hands! A furious blur, crafting something, although from a distance I could not tell what. Curious, I drew nearer to the plane of her existence, peering up from beneath her little boat to see what she was crafting. It took me a moment, but then I let out a gasp. The product of her hands was filling her boat, overflowing from its tattered edges, drifting down beneath the surface, and stretching deeper than I could see. It was like a net, but far deadlier. It was not intended to catch creatures and lift them to the surface, but to trap them and cut them to pieces. It was then that I realized why the waters were so calm here: no beast dared approach. Indeed, I myself began to grow fearful of the lethal net which followed the old woman, except I knew that it was not meant for me.