1 comments/ 27622 views/ 3 favorites Sweets to the Sweet By: Aztek Pagan Be careful what you wish for, because the consequences may be more than you are willing to pay. Those were the words that I spoke to myself as I sat alone in the backseat of the police cruiser. I was handcuffed and being bounced around like a rag doll as the car raced down the wet muddy back roads of Winters Texas. I was brought to tears mouthing those words over and over. "Be careful what you wish for—" I whispered. "Ehh? You sayin' somethin' back there Bret?" The officer driving the police cruiser asked. "Oh what a shit storm y'er in. Why'd ya' do it boy?" "—be careful what you wish for," was the only reply I gave. There was a bright flash of light as lightning streaked across the black moonless sky. A loud crack followed by a deep rolling thunder came soon after the lightning flash. This made me think of the night that they came into town. It was on a night much like this one, but it was one week earlier when things were normal. Well about as normal as things could get around here. ΔΔΔ The night was cold and damp. The clouds scattered across the sky were almost as dark as the sky itself making them hard to see. The stars were bright looking down at a little boy that stood outside looking up at the stars with my mother. My father was working late at a side job and we were waiting for him to get home. That was when I saw the most incredible thing. It seemed to come right out of the blackness of the sky. It began with just a small spark, but it lit up the sky like a miniature sun. My mouth dropped open as it streaked across the sky from horizon to horizon in an instant. "Look Bret! It's a shooting star. Make a wish son and if you believe hard enough it will come true." Mother had the kindest face I had ever seen and even though it seemed like she had been crying I still thought that she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I don't remember why she was crying, but I think it had something to do with my father not being home. I closed my eyes and made my wish silently. I could hear something off in the distance. The sound was that of rolling thunder, but there were no storm clouds in the sky and this sound seemed to be constant. The odd thing was that the sound wasn't coming from above like normal thunder, but coming off from the west where the star had fallen. It wasn't until that next morning did I find out what that sound had been. My sister and I decided to take mother a homemade lunch that consisted of one apple, one banana, one ham sandwich and one PB&J sandwich with the crusts cut off. I had fixed the latter and I thought that it would be appropriate thinking about how sad my mother had been the night before and when I was sad she would always fix me a PB&J sandwich. This never failed to lift my spirits. The small town of Winters was a handful of streets surrounded by miles and miles of farmland and grazing fields for livestock. The town itself was only a few square miles and my family lived in a small brick house that my father had built himself just on the outskirts of town, on Stephens St. one of the longest roads in town. We had to walk to the corner store that was located at the corner of Stephens and Elm, one of the three only major cross streets in Winters Texas. The store was made of block instead of brick and had been painted canary yellow. I loved visiting her while she was at work because The CornerStore, as it was amply named, had the best tasting red-soda in town. Mother always made sure that when I left the store that I got a small fountain drink of what ever I wanted. To me it was a no-brainer, I got the sweet red-soda and also a chocolate bar. That day there was a ringing in my ears as my sister, Maggie and I walked down the Stephens Street in the June day sun. The heat started swelling up as the day passed from morning to afternoon and sweat began to drip down my forehead. I could still taste the sweet chocolate that I had pilfered from my hidden stash of sweets when the tent first came into view. It stood in the empty field that separated downtown Winters from the housing district. The field was used by ranchers to graze their cattle or hold their houses, but this year it seemed that they lent it to a traveling carnival. They were putting up a bright red sing with wicked lettering across it that announced The Phoenix Carnival of Exotic Wonders will be opening their tents tomorrow. The price was $5 for children and $7 for adults. "Wow Bret would you look at that?" His older sister said. "Do you think mom and dad will take us?" My sister may have been older, but her common sense was not that of a twelve year old. "Mom may let us go, but I doubt father will get home in time for us to go. At least not before dark," I told her. "Well maybe that's a good thing, because it would cost $24 for the family to go, but then again dad would probably not go. That would mean it would cost $17 for mom to take us." She thought a moment as we halved the distance between us and the store. "Maybe we can collect bottles or cans to get the money to go. Then mom and dad couldn't say that we couldn't afford it." Then again, I thought to myself, sometimes she does have some common sense. I didn't even think that we may not be able to afford it. I just took it for granted that Maggie and I would get to go no matter the cost. There was a series of trucks lined end to end. Painted on the sides of these trucks were a series of attractions; a man covered in hair or fur with sharp teeth, a woman that was human from waist up and snake from waist down surrounded by a host of freaks of nature, and finally was an artist rendition of a young boy in Egyptian head dress surrounded by thousands of worshipers. "How long do you think it would take to raise the money?" I asked Maggie. "I don't know squirt. I think may a couple of days at least if we both worked hard." There was no time like the present and so we started collecting cans and bottles on the last stretch of road to the store. It was only a few hundred yards but with me on one side of the street and Maggie on the other we managed to collect a handful of cans and even a few bottles a piece. We delivered our homemade meal to mother and asked her about the carnival, but she looked at us with sad eyes and told us that she would have to see. "You know how your father is about things like that. I will have to talk with him." "Well if it makes a difference, Bret and I can pay our own way in mom. We have decided to collect cans and stuff to make enough money for tickets." Maggie was now bargaining with mother and it seemed to be working. Mother for her part seemed impressed with her daughter's initiative. There was a twinkle in my mother's eyes that I hadn't seen for a long time. I was glad to see it again. I stood outside the store with my face pressed against the glass looking in on them both. My cheeks were bulging from fruity flavored candy that had been stuffed to the max in my mouth. There was that strange ringing in my ears that was only interrupted by "Um—excuse me." I turned around quickly to see a young boy about my age standing behind. He looked as dirty as any other six or seven year-old boy with tattered jeans that were worn thin at the knees. The yellow and brown striped shirt was brown all over from dirt and his hair was unkempt and the same flaming red as the freckles on his face. He seemed to be waiting for me to move out from in front of the double glass doors to go into the store, but once I moved he did not go in. "What are you doing? Somethin' interesting goin' on in there?" He moved to the place where I had been and pressed his face against the glass. "No," he said simply. "Just some girl talking to some ol'lady." This caused a reaction in me that I hadn't felt before. "You take that back! My mother isn't old!" I knew that he hadn't meant it in a rude or hateful manner, but for some reason, maybe it was the buzzing and ringing in my ears, but this boy was starting to get on my nerves. I guess he saw it in my eyes because he quickly said, "Hey sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. She is very pretty." This seemed to work. "And the girl? Do you know her?" "Yes, her name is Maggie. She's my sister." "Maggie is cute too, if you're into that sort of thing." He made a face like he had just taken a whiff of something rotten. "Hey, my name is Martien Grey Hawkins. My folks call me Marty." Marty extended his small hand out and I shook it graciously. That was how I met Marty. "Pleased to meet you Marty, my name is Bret." He turned and looked back through the window, "Yeah I know. Hey you know of anything to do around here?" He pulled out a tiny red ball that was wrapped in clear plastic. On the plastic was the red and yellow words Atomic Fireball. He popped one into his mouth and pushed it to the side of his left cheek. "Well they are putting up the tent just down the road. It's a carnival," I started but was quickly interrupted. "Yeah yeah, I know that already. My mother and step father work there. That's where I came from." He started walking away from the doors towards the empty parking lot. "Really?" I called to him. "I have never seen a carnival before. What is it like?" Marty stopped and turned to look at me. "You have never been to a carnival before? Never in your life?" "Nope. Why is that bad?" Marty started laughing. It was forced laughter and Bret didn't seem to care. For the first time in his life he felt like something was about to happen to him that would change his forever. Marty started talking in this strange voice like something out of the black and white cartoons, "No, my boy. Scoot back son y're botherin' me. It's a fantastic place see? Full of amazing wonders and frightening sights, see." He was waving his hands in broad arcs as if revealing imaginary secrets. He continued, "You have seen the breaded woman, borin'. Or the mermen, old news. We have the remains of a two headed Cyclops. The mummified remains of an Indian Prince complete with his shrunken arm. We have the vault of terror featuring some of the most horrifying images you have ever seen. Demons and monsters. Come one! Come all and see what The Phoenix Carnival of Wonders has to offer." With the pitch complete I was left in awe. "I thought that it was called The Phoenix Carnival of Exotic Wonders?" That was the only response that I could think of. "Well that is what is on this sign, but it changes from town to town. It just depends on that the town looks like. If the town has a lot of churches and the people seem to be god fearing folks then we may use the sign that says Miraculous Wonders on it. Or maybe if the town is big and the people are busy bees then we may use Forgotten Terrors." He shrugged, "It just depends. Wanna go see?" "You mean now?" I looked back to see if Maggie was finished talking with mother, but I couldn't see her from where we both stood. "Let me go ask right quick." Marty just shrugged again and started walked backwards towards the area where they were putting up the tent, "If you can then catch up." He was intently looking down at his feet. I was puzzled by this until I realized what he was doing. He was taking the exact path that he had walked to get to the store. Making sure to match his steps, step for step. When I reached the door and glanced back it occurred to me that this must have been something that he did often because he was moving at surprising speed as he walked backwards. "Mom can I go watch them put up the tents? I think I saw a little boy there that I might be able to play with." My inconsideration took them both by surprise and because of my haste I did not get a chance to hear what they were talking about. "Sure dear, just be careful and don't get into anyone's way." With that I bolted for the door. My mother called after me, "Bret!" I stopped and my eyes met hers, "If they tell you to leave then you come right back here okay? And stay in sight of the road so that Maggie can find you when she heads home." "Okay mom. I'll be good." Again I was off as fast as my feet could take me. As I started down the side of the road I thought about following my own footprints, but then put the thought aside. I wanted to get there as quickly as possible and even though the carnival was only a couple of blocks away it seemed like it took me and hour to get there. Marty had just walked passed the first two trucks when I had caught up with him. I was tired and out of breath having just sprinted the entire way there. "Good you made it. I was wondering what I was going to do for the rest of the day, but since you are here I can give you a tour." I tried to say thanks, but all that came out was heavy gasps as I tried to catch my breath. "I would introduce you to my mom and step dad, but they don't like to be bothered while working." Marty led me around to the various tents and booths that were being erected and everyone that passed seemed to notice that there was a new kid around. They watched me intently without even glancing at Marty. "Don't mind them, they just don't like strangers coming around and seeing what really goes on around here. But you're with me and they won't say anything." He looked at me and smiled, "Just pretend like you belong." Marty walked me through the entire carnival. As we passed by certain people he might say, "See him, he's the Wolf-man. Every morning before he comes out of his trailer he puts on all that hair and those teeth. We walked over to one of the completed tents, "See it's safe for the freaks to walk about now because no one is supposed to be here, but once those lights come on and those gates open up." He motioned to the makeshift gates that they were erecting now. "Then its in-character twenty-four seven, it doesn't matter if they are on the shitter or eating dinner." He pulled on the canvas edge pulling it up just enough for me to slip through. "Its so they can keep the illusion going see." I lay on my back and scooted myself into the dark tent. I didn't realize it until I was holding up the canvas for Marty to slide in that I had lain in an anthill and was getting stung by them something fierce. Once Marty was in I started swatting and beating myself about the arms and legs trying to kill as many as I could. It felt like there must have been hundreds on me. I tore off my shirt and started using it to swat at them. By the time I got them all off of me I had been stung about two dozen times. I couldn't see what kind of ants they were, but they must have been pretty big because I started feeling light headed and sick to my stomach. The place was dark and I could see small boxes everywhere. They were about 12 inches long and 4 inches wide and looked much like shoe boxes. There were even some large wooden crates that had these small boxes stacked inside them. A black canvas lined the floor and made makeshift walls and rooms. Then in the center of the main room all alone was a pillar of sorts that stood no taller than Marty and had a golden oblong box tied to it. The small shoe boxes surrounded this center pillar as if radiating out from the center in a circular pattern. Some of these boxes were open and even hurting as I was from the ant bites I still managed to peer into one of these boxes. The thing inside the box was no more than 10 inches long. It looked like what a baby doll would look like if you baked it for 10 minutes in the over. It was black and charred looking. The skin or outer layer of whatever covered it was dried and wrinkly like beef jerky but no hair could be seen. The head was egg shaped, but it didn't remind him of a person. "What'ya think? Pretty cool huh?" Marty's voice shattered my own thoughts and brought me back to reality. "Yeah," was my only reply. I motioned to the pillar, "What's in there?" I tried not to show my nervousness by pulling out a Pixi-Stix from my pocket and tearing off the end. I up ended the straw shaped container and filled my mouth with the grape flavored sugar that was inside. Its contents caked on the inside of my mouth and I slowly mixed it with my saliva and swallowed. This gave me a sugar rust the border lined bliss. His smile brightened, "That is the boy who would be king. My parents found him somewhere in Mexico." Marty walked over to the pillar and opened it carefully. It seemed to be a coffin or at least that is what it reminded me of. There was even a face carved into it, but that isn't what I stared at. Inside the coffin was a small boy that was all I could think of. His head was egg shaped and the skin was dried like something you would see in an old horror movie. The eye holes were huge and vacant, almost the size of my fist, while the body was small and thin. A sign was fixed at the feet of the mummified boy. I could hardly read what it said, but part of what it said was: Here lies the boy that would be king … What ever else it said couldn't be read from where I stood. "Sometimes I think they love this thing more than they love their own son." There was something in Marty's voice that concerned me, but I couldn't dwell on it. "He is, after all, the boy who would be king." I just stared at the thing inside that coffin and imagined what he must have looked like in real life. This was after all the first dead body I had ever seen. The blackened skin was pulled taut over the small frame. There was a crease in the leathery skin that started at the breastbone and traced a line down to its navel. The hollow empty eyes were the size of small fists. The mouth pulled tight around the hideously grinning teeth and there were just tiny slits where once the ears rested. I watched the body in that Egyptian coffin for no more than five or ten minutes, but when you are young time has a funny way of stretching thin. Making one minute seems like ten minutes and ten minutes feel like hours. This was how it felt that night. My eyes were focused on those hollowed out eyes. The harder I stared the more I would notice something was amiss. I would lose focus on the body for an instant, causing it smear and my vision to blur as if it were moving almost too fast to see. Was I seeing it right? Was the body moving? When I relaxed my eyes I could see the remains clearly, but when I focused on any one part of the thing—there was it breathing? The chest moving ever so slightly—no it was moving so fast that the movement couldn't really be seen. My focus fell on the chest and that deep crease. It wasn't like someone had taken a knife to the body and cut it open, but more like it had always been there even in life. Was there something that the body was hiding away? Was there some hidden treasure or revelation that could be touched or could be seen by opening that leathery chest? There seemed to be a twitch as I watched the chest and this caused me to jump back. "What the? It moved!" My head began to throb. I was reminded of an issue of Strange Tales comic books where a man was digging a well in his back yard and uncovered a buried body. The body looked much like this one, but as he was digging around the thing he cut himself and dripped blood down on the remains. Later that night after retiring to bed there came a scrapping noise from outside his bedroom door. The man was a typical man and got up to investigate only to find out that the body he had uncovered wasn't dead. In fact it seemed to only be sleeping and the blood that had dripped on it awakened it. It had entered the house to retrieve the rest of the man's blood from which had awakened it. Marty must have seen the look on my face and just laughed. "No—well yes it did move, but its not what you think. It's motorized." He was looking at me intently as he spoke as if gauging my response, "My parents put it in to scare onlookers as they passed by. It's on a timer and every ten minutes part of it will twitch." Sweets to the Sweet. She stands, naked looking at the floor, a deep creeping blush rolling along her warm sun kissed skin. Her mind had often traveled to these times as he circled her an ran his eyes along her body. Even as her appraised her silently he was pleasantly shocked at the near flawless silken membrane of her flash. Not too short of skinny; not too dark nor light; not shaven, but trimmed neatly. His hand raises to run down along the shallow valley in the center of her back, but stops, using the crop instead. She’s tense before the lashes roll along her, lapping her, like so many small sued tongues. A moan threatens to pass her lips, but fails, he’s warned her not to make a sound. After the bath she’ given him, he decided to reward her. As long as she stayed silent. His hands stroke along the drawn muscles of her frame, she shudders, so near to madness that it plies at her as he leans in and his cock twitches against the back of her thigh she nearly faints. Yet, she does not move nor utter a sound and he smiles…she is a treasure indeed. His left hand comes from her hip to glide warm oiled finger tips along her ribs, to tug at her nipple, then to fully cup her breast consuming it really in his massive hand. He speaks, his voice this and shuddering betraying his own desire as he asks her passing questions. Her eyes, dark and glistening stay locked to the floor when she answers her voice only a whispered “Yes M’Lord” or “Only if it please you Master”. He chuckles softly against her hair as his hand splays along her stomach, stroking the taut flesh and running the handle of the crop along her inner thigh. Her eyes slip shut and she shudders with a sharp intake of breath. The crop stops its aching ascent ion to her already dripping cunt and he waits. She tenses a moment, and her fingers bound behind her back clench into small balls of fists but she utters not a sound. “Gooood girl, “ comes the soft growl along her ear and her legs tremble with the sound as it echoes desire that fires inside her. Her only want at this point is to please him, rewards be damned. His smile reward enough for her.” you may speak two words” Instantly she whispers almost an agonized whimpered “ Please Master”. He smiles and strokes her hair slowly letting his fingers twine to the scalp, even as she tips to his fingers relishing in the feel of him so close, the warm ecstasy of his hands, and the heat of his body. “Not yet lil one” She shudders, her knees threaten to give way and buckle her to her knees, but she bites her lip hard and straightens them standing stock still again even as his lips brush along her cheek and she reels with the intoxicating feel of them. Her strength and desire to please him drive him, her spirit yet unbroken, yet the obvious signs f her want dripping down the velvet path of her inner thighs The crop raises yet again and he teases her outer lips running it along them slowly. His hand kneads her breast and she leans on the strength of his arms and closes her eyes licking her lips slowly. Gods how she wants him, desire courses thru her batting her nerve endings and lapping up along her spine and she can not control the panting breath that comes as the handle of the crop flickers over her throbbing clit even as more of the thick sweet flow of her juices roll along her thigh and saturate the crop. She can feel him behind her the rigid length of his cock presses to her ass and pulsates against the thick curve of it. Instinct causes her to press back and her hips roll slightly and even then he has to moan. She smiles some as he bites at her shoulder growling “ bitch” against the crook of it and he bends her over. “ Grab your ankles”. She does so spreading her thighs wide so that he can see the wanton trail of her own cum rolling along her flesh, his flesh. He doesn’t have to look, he knows her body like it was his own, and even though tonight it was not her limits but his that were pushed, he thrusts into her smiling and peeling apart the tight walls. She does moan this time, and shoves her hips back to match him. He hears the moan and almost as an after thought between hungered thrusts, he smacks her ass with the crop, leaving a small red welt. Her ass writhes to his crotch, nestling along the curve of his hip and stomach pushing his cock deeper into her and back along the hungrily suckling nub of her cervix, His eyes roll up in his head as she clenches around him, and he grasps her hips panting “ Cum…cum for me”. She thrusts back arching her spine and bucking her hips as sticky sweetness rolls along his cock and drowns his balls. His nails claw into her ass as he bucks and his head falls back growling her name pumping what feels like gallons into her hungry cunt. Long after he’s cum he continues to thrust and pant her moans spurring him on and he tugs her up to stand, clawing at her breasts. After she’s cum again he lifts her and carries her to the bed and lays with her straddle him, buried again deep with in her quivering walls. He tugs her forward and kisses her slightly and folds her along his thudding chest. “ Do not move girl” he whispers as his eyes close and she smiles whispering “ Yes Master” nestled into his arms both falling asleep with in seconds. Sweets to the Sweet I forced a smile and a weak chuckle, "That's great." I said, but still my eyes never looking away from the body. "I have to go. My sister will be looking for me." Marty watched as I backed towards the canvas wall. "Well I hope to see you again before you leave," I told him. "You will. I don't make too many friends. I am sure I will see you around tonight or tomorrow. Are you planning on coming to see the show? If so then I think I can get you and your sister in for free." He hadn't moved. Even as I pulled up the edge of the canvas he didn't make any motion to follow me. From where I stood Marty's face was covered in shadow and his eyes appeared black and hollow. I had a vision of him standing there with fist size shiny black eyes and a rotten teeth grin. "I will have to see what Maggie wants to do, but if so then I will get back with you." I spoke slowly trying to get the image out of my head. With the canvas pulled up I slipped under it and out into the hot summer heat which cause my head to start pounding. A sound came from inside that sounded like a thousand childlike voices speaking as one, I wasn't sure I heard it correctly or if it was my head playing tricks on me, but the words were clear enough. "See ya' soon," was all that was said. Passing by one of the trailers on my way back to the road, I heard someone talking in a loud voice. I normally wouldn't have taken notice, but the word that caught my attention was, "Marty!" I slowed my pace as I passed by until I was standing there poised under an open window. "I don't think we should open that exhibit," the man voice said. "Why not? Our son is hungry. He needs to eat. It has been weeks since—" A woman's reply was cut short. The man's voice was firm but hushed, "No Mama! This town is too small. We mussn't let him out! You know how he gets when he's eatin'." "Well daddy I suppose y're right." There was a slight pause as if she was thinking real deeply about what she was going to say next. "Can't we just send out a couple of them? Just to collect enough to tide him over until we hit a bigger town?" "Well I suppose it'll be fine. He's still sleep'n and as long as he's sleep'n everything should be fine." This conversation had me so confused that I wasn't sure if I knew what they were talking about. It seemed to start off with them talking about Marty, but he wasn't asleep and it certainly didn't look like he was starving. Perhaps they were talking about someone else. I inched myself up to the edge of the open window and was about to peer into the trailer when someone grabbed my shoulder with a firm hand and pulled me around. "Hey you peeping tom. I have been looking all over for you." Maggie had succeeded in frightening me to the point of pissing all over myself. She dragged me away from the window, "What do you think you were doing?" My body was still in shock from the fright and my mind wasn't working properly. "I—I was just kneeling to tie my shoe when I h—heard something in the trailer." I stumbled over my own words and Maggie just shot me a look like she didn't believe me. The next few days were pretty dull, because I had told my mother about Marty and his offer to get me into the carnival for free. She did not like the idea of charity and favored Maggie's idea of earning the money for tickets so I spent most of the next three days traveling up and down Stephens collecting discarded cans. My back hurt so bad from repeatedly bending over after that first day that when I had gotten home that night I got an idea. The next day I could not force myself out of bed until just past noon, but once I did get moving around my first destination was father's old storage shed. It was a metal building where mother stored her holiday decorations, but it also doubled as father's work shed. Once in the shed I found an old broken mop handle that was about three feet long and pointed at the broken end. Searching through a couple of rusted tool boxes I found a long nail and tape. I fixed the sixteen penny nail at the broken end and wrapped it tightly with black electrical tape to make sure that it wouldn't move. The end result was a stick with a spike on the end, for stabbing the cans thus eliminating the need to bend over. I felt so proud of myself that the next day was spent stabbing everything that I came across. I was eating a half melted chocolate bar when I turned off of Stephens St. and headed down Goins St. It was a dirty road that I remembered that people used as a trash dump. The day was hot and the dirty white t-shirt and tattered shorts that I wore became sweat stained in a matter of hours. The ringing in my ears was back as was the dull pain in my head and the only explanation that I could think of was that I had been working in the summer heat every day for almost a week now. This was something that I was not accustomed to and my lazy days seemed to be making its mark on my boyish physique. I had filled my plastic bag about a quarter of the way full when I came across a wooden panel laying off on the side of the road in the brush. I still don't know why I turned it over, but when I did I had found a metropolis of bugs and insects amidst the matted grass. It was as if something had combed down the bleached white grass. Rollie-pollies, crickets, and spiders scattered at the bright sunlight when it hit them. There were also a few slugs and beetles scouring around the damp ground. Even now I can't remember why I did it, but I was watching one of the slugs inching its way towards the tall grass. I raised the stick and stabbed at the slimy thing and hit my mark. The sharp nail pierced it an inch away from its bulbous eyes and it began to thrash. Well as much as a slug can thrash, but it was surprisingly very animated just dangling from the end of the spike. That was when I saw it move. I wasn't sure at first because it seemed so big, but then I saw it twitch again. I was looking passed the flailing slug and there was a deep brown almost black patch of hair or dirt that was ticking. That was the way it seemed because one of its legs was tapping with ground. I followed that hairy leg to the body and froze. It was huge about four and half inches long and covered in a thick brown almost black hair. I could see five of its eight shiny black eyes. I remember thinking that it was watching me as if wanting to pounce on me. It batted at the ground with its front two short legs now, like a battle drum. I lowered the spike to my shoe and scraped the slug off in one smooth stroke. Then raising the instrument turned weapon, I stabbed at the spider. The first blow I struck had missed but because I attacked the damn thing reacted instantly and leapt at me. It did not run. It did not retreat into the grass like I had expected it to, but the beast did what I had fear it would do and pounced at my exposed leg. I was frozen in shock until I felt the hairs of this eight legs brush against my leg and then born from fear I twisted and fell backwards onto the edge of the gravel road. The stick I was holding fell from my hand as the spider pounced again, but this time it landed on my forearm. The prickly hairs from its long legs, that seemed to wrap themselves around my entire arm, tickled the sensitive skin of my arm. It gripped on to my arm tapping with as it did the ground only moments before. This sent chills up my arm and my brain registered danger. I quickly moved to swat it away, but I was too slow. The pain in my arm was great. Then my hand slapped it away. I half expected it crush under the slap, but it hairy body was hard like a shell and I just knocked it several feet away from me, but that didn't detour it. It flipped over in an instant and was headed back towards me in a flash. I scrambled to my feet and as I did my hand brushed the stick that lay at my side. I scooped up the stick as quickly as I could, all the while, watching as the beast got closer and closer. Franticly I started stabbing the ground at my feet. I don't remember taking aim, but just hoping to hit the damn thing or scare it away. There was a burning that quickly meandered up the length of my arm. It came on so sudden that it started to frighten me. I was no longer thinking rationally and continued my assault. Stab after stab after stab until I couldn't see any more movement. Then I had a thought that maybe it had gotten by me and was just waiting for that terrible moment of realization. That it was poised on the top of my shoe or on the back of my leg until I noticed it there. I dropped the stick again and this time I slapped at my leg convinced that it was there. Hadn't I felt its hard prickly legs crawling up my naked leg. The burning sparked and rose to a flame's intensity and I ventured a glance at it. The spot where I had been bitten was already a deep red and puffy around the edged. The swelling caused my arm to double in size. I looked down remembering the spider, but saw it in an instant impaled by the spike. It was attached to the stick I had been holding. Its legs curled up inward and it was not moving. I sighed in relief for a moment. Sweat began to stream down my face and I started feeling like the walls were closing in on me, if there had been walls around me. My arm throbbed and the pain was growing by the minute. I panicked and forgot all about the spider, turned and ran. I ran back to the intersection where Goins and Stephens streets met as fast as my little legs would take me. I turned left heading north towards the CornerStore running as fast as I could. Each step was torture. My legs began to feel like jelly and this made me run faster. My heart was pounding so hard that I felt like my chest may explode as any moment. There was a beating in my head felt like a bass drum by the time I passed the Carnival and I don't know why, but I thought of Marty. I would have stopped if it hadn't been for the spider bite. By the time I burst through the double glass doors of the store my legs and lungs burned as bad as my arm did. Mother must have known something was wrong because she took one look at me and ran towards me. I remember falling into her arms as all sound left me. It was very hard for me to breath. It felt like there was something caught in my throat. Then everything went black. When I could see again I was laying on a cold metal table with a very bright light shining directly in my eyes. I saw moment, but the light blinded me and I could only see shapes. I was reminded of a movie that I once watched where a man had been captured by aliens. They had taken him to their ship and performed tests on him. I shook my head trying to get the images out of my head. That was when someone leaned over and held me down. They were talking to me, but it was like they were talking through water and I could not understand. The person's head blocked the light shining down for an instant and what I saw frightened me more than the spider had. Its head was egg-shaped and its skin was a dirty gray. Two very large shiny black eyes looked down at me. Its body was very thin and was out of proportion with the large head. A surgical mask covered its mouth and tied around the back of its hairless head. My first thought was that it looked like the little Egyptian Boy King that I saw in the tent back at the carnival. But this boy was not dead. Thinking back to that tent I could not honestly saw that he was dead either. I began thrashing with all my strength trying to beat back this thing that held me down. Was it an alien? Was it some mummified little boy? Was it my mind playing tricks on me? The answer all those questions were simple. It did not matter. What ever it was I did not want it touching me. I tried calling out for mother, but my mouth was not working. All I heard was a deep low distorted wail that I assumed came from me. It held something in its long thin gray hand that looked like a knife. It jabbed it in my arm and again I felt a rush of heat. My vision blurred again and then came the darkness. Someone was talking to me and I was responding to him before I realized I was awake. "You gave us all a pretty big scare Bret. Luckily your mother got you here just in time or things would have been much worse." My head was pounding, but I could only feel the pressure of it. I suspected that there was pain also, but I could not feel any. "What happened? Where is my mother?" Tears swelled up in my eyes and I knew that I had been crying for some time. "Well son, do you remember anything? Anything at all?" The man speaking to me was a tall very white man wearing a white lab coat. He must have been my doctor because he had a stethoscope draped around his neck and was flipping through pages on a clipboard. I shook my head and looked around the room. There was a white curtain pulled around the bed that I lay in and sitting in the chair next to me was mother. "I'm here darling. Everything will be okay." "Your memory should come back. The drug that we had to use to combat the poison in your system has a slight side effect. It causes short term memory loss. But it's only temporary. " He placed the clipboard on a hook at the end of the bed and turned his attention to me. "You had a pretty nasty spider bite on your arm. Do you remember getting bitten by a spider?" He asked. "No—yes I remember collecting cans. And then this big spider attacked me." I remembered stabbing at it too but I did not mention that. "Well it's unusual for a spider to attack someone, but I guess if you startled it then its first reaction could be to bite. It must have been a pretty big spider judging by the marks on your arm." Mother was holding my good hand and stroking my palm. This was very soothing and I felt my fear begin to subside. The doctor continued, "You had a severe allergic reaction to the spider bite. From what your mother tells me you have never had an allergy to spiders." "No. Not to that I can remember and I have been bitten before." I was looking from the doctor to mother and then back to the doctor. "Well it's not uncommon for these allergies to develop as one gets older. But you will have to be more careful from now on. Spiders, bee stings and wasp stings may all cause this reaction so stay clear from them from now on okay buddy?" He turned to mother and smiled. "As I said it's normal for people to develop allergies as they get older. With your permission I would like to run some tests and blood work to be on the safe side." Mother was patting my hand now, "What ever you think is necessary doctor." "Good. I will set up an appointment with an allergy specialist, but the blood work we can do before he gets released." He turned back to me, "You take it easy for the next couple of days. We have bandaged up your arm and the bite may start itching as you go through the healing process, but what ever you do don't scratch it or you'll risk infection. Okay?" "Okay." "I would like to see him for a follow up next week. We should have the results from the blood work for you then." On the drive home I asked mother where father was. "He was at work and I couldn't get a hold of him. There aren't any phones out to the job sites and I didn't want to leave you." I figured that he would not have come even if he did know. He did not like hospitals, but I liked to think that he would have swallowed his pride and came to my aide anyway. I slept most of the next day. Mother took the day off to take care of me even though Maggie had insisted that she could handle things. I think mother blamed herself having told me that earning my way into the carnival was good for me. The following day was Sunday and I was more active. The pain in my arm was a dull constant pain, but I did not want to be cooped up in the house all day. Mother had gone to work and instructed Maggie to keep a close eye on me. "I don't think you need me holding your hand do you?" Maggie asked me when mother had left. "You're big enough to know what you can do and what you can't do right?" "Yeah. It was stupid." I replied. "Good if you need me I'll be in the house." She started towards the house, but then stopped and turned around. "The good thing about this is that I think mother is going to take us to the carnival tomorrow whether we have made enough money or not, but I think that is because she feels responsible." "I guess that's good." With that she opened the screen door and disappeared inside. I had spent most of the day outside kicking around a soccer ball in the front yard. I was eating the last of mother's homemade sugar cookies when I heard a familiar voice over my shoulder. "So are you all right?" It was Marty. He was wearing the same tattered jeans and yellow and brown stripped shirt. "I heard that you got rushed to the emergency room the other day. That you almost died." I tried laughing it off, "No I got bite by a—what did he call it? Black Mexican Tarantula I think is what he called it. But the strange thing is that I'm apparently allergic to spider bites now." Marty chuckled, "Bummer. I love catching spiders and keeping them as pets." "Yeah so did I." "Hey can you leave the yard?" He asked with a queer expression on his face. I shrugged, "I guess so. They didn't tell me I couldn't." "Good. Because I'm on a mission today and I think I could use your help." I did not like how this was sounding, but I would be lying if I said it did not get my curiosity going. He would not tell me what he had in mind just yet. So we walked down the road talking and come to find out Marty and I had a lot in common. Marty never knew his real father because he had left his mother at a very young age, while I never really got to see my father much because he was always at work. He told me that his mother had met his step-father at a carnival and the hit it off almost immediately. They were married six months later and went on the road that summer. The life was very interesting in the beginning, but after a couple of years things started to get redundant. He never stayed at one place long enough to have any real friends, which was why he figured that he now wanted a pet. More to the point he had wanted a pet bird and had seen a man that had a bird farm. This was Mr. Edwards and he had built a cage made of wood and chicken wire a couple of years back. It was filled the cage with multicolored parakeets and parrots. I had watched Old-man Edwards selling those colorful birds to anyone with five dollars and a cage, but we had neither. We walked to Old-man Edwards bird farm knowing that since it was Sunday that he would be gone to church most of the day. I don't know why but Marty had talked me into brake into his homemade cage with two plastic trash bags in hand. The place smelled of rotting wood and bird shit, but to Marty that was the sweet smell of victory. We spent an hour in the cage catching as many birds as we could, but we were in such a hurry to get in there that we had forgotten to close the door. Those that we couldn't catch flew out the cage door. Now we were only seven years old and smarts was never one of our strongest characteristics, because if it had been we probably would have remembered that it was the middle of June. The summer had just begun and the average temperature for a day like that was mid to high 90s. On that particular day there was very little cloud cover and it reached those temperatures by 10:30 am. I must have had 20-30 birds in my bag alone and Marty had almost twice that in his bag. At that age we never thought enough ahead to have a cage or someplace ready to receive all of these birds. So we went to a neighbor's home and gave him a couple of birds. When we opened the bags a handful of birds fell out on to the ground twitching and weakly flapping their wings. Another half dozen took this opportunity to escape to freedom. Sweets to the Sweet Marty watched the flailing birds with such intensity much like I watched the slug that I had impaled with the spike. That was when we realized that these birds were going to die unless we found someplace for them, because they were being smothered by each other. "Bret," Marty looked into his bag with this saddened look on his face. "Most of mine are dead, I think. We have to take them someplace or let them go. Otherwise they will all die." We were sitting under a shade tree wolfing down strawberry taffy by the handful. "Listen Marty we can just let them go or we can take them someplace cool," I don't really know why we couldn't just let them go, but for some reason this made sense to me. "We can go and put them in my dad's storage shed. They should be fine there. Then tomorrow we can build a cage for them." This seemed to make sense to Marty and as it was said so it was decided. This day started off relatively cool, but then by midday it started warming up really quick. By the time we had decided to take the birds to my father's storage shed, it must have been pushing close to 100°. "Hey Bret! Do you think we could sell some of these birds?" I looked back at him as he was swinging the bag at his side. Sweat was streaming down his face. "I mean we can keep a lot of them, but it seems stingy to keep them all to ourselves." I was trying to keep my bag as still as possible because I knew how hot I was and the birds in this bag must have been feeling worse. "We gave some away. So we aren't being stingy. Let's hurry because I know these guys must be really hot in these bags." The familiar ringing in my ears returned as we started in at a run towards my house. I was sweating and my bandaged arm began itching. I held my bag to my chest trying not to shake it around that much, while Marty threw his over his left shoulder and didn't mind if it bounced around. When we were close to the end of the street my house came into view and we slowed to a brisk walk. We past by little Peter's family's home, a neighbor of mine that I had not seen all summer, and then passed by my aunt's house before we got to my house. Marty and I made our way up the short driveway and into the backyard where the storage building sat. Thankfully my father never locked the darn thing and with a quick tug on the door it swung open. The seriousness of our situation was not evident until we put the bags down and opened them one at a time. I half expected the birds to jump at a chance to get free from the confines of the bag, but none did. Up ending the bag and pouring them out onto the floor, they fell like pieces of dried fruit. There were a few that were moving and making a sickening noise that made me think of a heavy wooden door opening whose hinges needed to be oiled. The smell that filled the room was worse than a wet dog smell in the summer. "Hey lets go get something to drink." Marty had his first good idea of the day. "Yeah you're right. They may just need something to drink." I replied. This won a laugh from Marty who up ended his bag, spilling out motionless birds adding them to my pile. "No Bret. I meant let's go get us something to drink." "Oh," was my reply. "But Marty what are we going to do about them?" He had started back to my house, but then stopped and looked back at me shrugging. "They are probably just too hot to move. Some of them look like they are sleeping so let them sleep. Let's get us something to drink and cool off for a bit then we can come back and bring them something to drink. They should be up by then." I don't know why I believed him. Perhaps it was so form of denial, but I wanted to believe that they were alive and just sleeping or knocked out by the heat. But there was this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me differently. I followed Marty into my house and we both got us something to drink. I saw that Maggie was on the couch asleep and Marty was also watching her. He's eyes had a strange look about them, something that I had never seen before in a seven year old eye, but I had seen it plenty in older kids. We sat down in front of the television and started watching cartoons, we were seven after all, and forgot all about the birds. That was until my father returned home a few hours later. When my father drove up the driveway he was not alone. There was a police car following him that had its lights on. I looked around at Marty only to find that he was gone. I figured that he had gone to the bathroom and turned my attention back to the window. When my father got out of his truck and walked back to speak with the officer I finally remembered the birds. "Oh man the birds!" My heart was pounding in my chest because I knew that what we had done was wrong. I was still looking out the window and could see the officer pointing in the direction of Mr. Edward's home. "What's up little brother?" Maggie had awakened and seen the look on my face. "There is a policeman here talking with dad!" "So what, he must have been speeding or something." She replied. I had to get rid of the birds and so I darted out the back door. The door to the shed was ajar and Marty was nowhere to be found. I swung the metal door open shrank back in horror. A putrid stench that hit me as I pushed open the door and I peered inside. It was so revolting that in fact that I almost threw up in an instant. They had been in that small metal building for the better part of four hours with no ventilation and those that had been alive when we left them there were now long dead. The building acted as an accelerator for decomposition because of the extreme heat. Ants had found their way to the dead bird corpses and had begun to pick them clean. Flies had also found the moist bodies of the parakeets and laid their eggs there. That was troubling on its own, but what really got to me was the way the birds were laid out. The biggest was in the center and the smaller ones were arranged in a circular pattern around it. It was just like what I had seen in the tent at the carnival. "The bird that would be king, if it had survived." A voice told me as I stared at the dead birds. That was when I saw the center bird move. It did not move much, but it did move. Thinking that it may still be alive I searched for a stick and poked at the pile of steaming feathers. When the stick touched the bird it seemed to break open and maggots spilled out from the bright blue feathers. I poked at the other birds with the same result. The maggots were feeding on the tender flesh of the birds. They were still newborns, but they ate the rotting flesh with such vigor that all Marty and I could do was watch. "Oh my god! Bret! What have you done?" My father's voice came from behind us, breaking the spell that the dead birds had on me. Tears began to stream down my face as I realized that I was the cause of this. Maybe not the sole cause, but because I helped Marty these birds were dead now. I could not believe what we had done. What I had done. Nothing was said about the birds to my mother or sister. At least if something was said they did not mention it to me. Mother came home from work and asked me how my day was and father seemed to come home later and later. He was working a side job for some extra money, this he did often enough, but I could not help but think that I was the reason he did not come home. This man, my father, could not face his son, the bird stealer, so he stayed away as long as he could. When I tried to talk to him he would just look at me like he didn't know who I was anymore. But it had occurred to me that perhaps it was him that was different. It had been two days since my father had found me in the shed with the dead birds and since that time I had watched my mother sitting on the front porch waiting. I knew she was waiting for him to come home, but there was something else there I think. Something else was going on behind closed doors and I was too naive or too young to realize what that something was. "Mom, where is daddy?" I asked her as I sat with her on the porch scratching at the spot on my arm. She replied to me in an instant as if she had rehearsed the answer, "He's doing some brick work over at the Johnson's place. He'll be home soon." This is what she told herself. "Stop scratching dear." "You know tomorrow is the last day of the carnival." I didn't know if this was the right time to bring this up, but if not tonight then I would never make it the carnival. I was watching the grass blowing rhythmically in the gentle breeze popping a piece of homemade cinnamon sugar candy that my aunt had made into my mouth. It dissolved quickly as my tongue pressed it against the roof of my mouth. "Oh really?" was her only reply. "Yes. And you still haven't met Marty. Remember me telling you about him. His family works at the carnival." I was talking fast now as sweat breading at my brow despite the cooling breeze. "Well I was thinking that since it is your day off tomorrow that you could take Maggie and me, just the three of us." "Just the three of us," she repeated to herself. I heard a sound like something moving in tall grass. The moon was out tonight and its light shone down lighting up the surroundings. It was bright even though it was not completely full. The moon has a way of doing that in small towns away from the bright lights of the big city. On a clear night under a full moon one could see surprisingly well once the eyes adjusted. My eyes had already adjusted to the light of the moon and I began to see shapes moving across the ground. They were black shapes about the size of newborn kittens, but they were fast moving from patch of grass to patch of grass and then behind an almost leafless bush. Mother did not seem to notice this, she just repeated herself again. "Just the three of us," I heard her sniff and knew that she was crying again. Her shoulders heaved and then I knew that she this was because of father. There was another shape scurrying across the gravel covered ground in front of the porch, but this time instead of darting for cover it just stopped when I focus on it. There was a ticking on my shoulder like that of the spider that had attacked me several days before. I was terrified and could not force myself to look to see if indeed it was another spider. The thing on the ground ten yards away looked much like the hairy spider that had bitten me, but the light was too dim and the thing was too dark to know for sure. There was a familiar burning that returned to the mark on my arm along with the tapping on my shoulder. "Mommy?" the tone of my voice broke through her grief. "I think there is a spider on my shoulder." Panic had already formed a lump in my throat and I was finding it hard to swallow. "Don't move Bret and let me take a look." She moved around me and looked at my shoulders with a look of fright in her eyes. She studied my shoulders intently and then with a sign of relief. "I don't see anything dear. Turn around and let me check your back just to make sure." After a careful once over she gave me the all clear. This left me puzzled because I had felt that ticking and the prickly legs brushing up against my bare neck. Just thinking about it sent shivers down my back and caused the hairs on my neck to stand on end. Truck lights streaked across the front of the house as father turned into the drive. I noticed the black shaped scattering as the dusty green ford pulled up and stopped next to the chain link fence that outlined the front yard. With the light from the headlamps I was able to see the thing on the ground more clearly. I shrank back in horror realizing that it had not been my mind playing tricks on me, but had been a great black spider staring at me. Its front legs tapped on the ground in the same rhythm that I still felt on my shoulder. Even as it slowly started to sidestep towards the open gate of the fence the tapping continued. The thing was so huge that I could hardly believe what I was seeing. It must have been the size of an adult cat or small dog. I thought for sure that mother would see it and shout a warning to my father, but no such noise came from her. What did come from her was a sound more like a grief stricken widow made when putting her beloved lover into the ground. She took one look at my father, made the wailing sound again, then turned and ran through the screen door into the house. There was something different about my father that night and I guess mother had noticed it too. He closed the truck door and walked through the gate passed the massive spider that lay motionless next to the open gate. It did not make a move towards him nor did it retreat from him. There was a spring in his step and he was whistling some tune that I had never heard before. The moonlight reflected off his dirty light blue short sleeve shirt. My father was a well built man that never failed to get looks of awe and respect from both men and women. He worked as a brick mason for all his life and the end result was that of bulging biceps, thick legs and a broad muscular back. My gaze returned to the thing at his feet, but in the instant that I took my eyes away it had disappeared. Father walked of the three cement steps onto the porch. "Hey Bret how are you doing tonight?" he stopped and leaned against one of the many brick posts that stretched from floor to ceiling. This was very odd because gone was the contempt that he had shown me over the past few days. It was as if he came home a different man. My father was a stranger to me and I did not know how or why. "Mom is upset for some reason." With this statement his expression changed. "Is there something going on?" I asked. An expression something like pain crossed his face. "I don't know what do you mean?" But before I could clarify what he meant he had moved back down the steps, out the gate and around the side of the house to the shed. I went inside only to be greeted with my mother's quiet sobbing. I could not stand to hear her and it seemed that everyday she cried more and more. There was thumping coming from Maggie's room from her rock music. I could not stand rock music either, so I went to my room. I performed my nightly ritual of searching my room for monsters and serial killers. I lifted the covers and looked under the bed. After looking in the closet and behind the reclining chair I went to the window to lower the blinds and close the curtain. That is when I saw father out at the shed. He had been rearranging things in the shed and I guess he had gotten too hot because he had taken off his shirt. I watched him for a moment and then realized there was something different about him. On his back was what appeared to be a series of fresh wounds. There were streaks of blood down his back. They looked like the bite mark I had on my arm, but these were in a circle pattern between his shoulder blades. I watched him enter shed and he did not come out for a long time. I found myself dozing while I sat there at the window. When he came out of the shed and had his shirt in his hands. My eyes were closing when he turned to close the shed door and witnessed something that would haunt me all night long. There on his back was the huge spider that I had seen earlier that night. It was poised between his shoulder blades with its legs dug into the skin of his back. He did not seem to notice or did not care and I think that is what frightened me the most. That night laying in bed those bites on my father's back haunted my dreams. The darkness in my room had life. The blackness on the walls was moving like a wall of glistening night crawlers. The wall moved in waves making shapes out of nothing. There was the spider sitting on my wall. It sat on my father's back sinking its teeth into the flesh of his back. It must have felt my eyes because it turned its attention to me and looked at me with its eight shiny eyes. There was that familiar tap with its front legs. I could see the blood dripping off it fangs as it cleaned them one at a time with its mouth. The black tendrils on the walls twisted and turned in a fan like motion and the picture changed. Now it was an Egyptian coffin, but instead of having a withered boy's body in it, there was the drained body of my Mother in it. Her body was covered with spiders. They scurried up her bare chest and down her naked legs. There was movement behind the coffin and Marty stepped out smiling. I tossed my head back and forth because Marty had six shiny black glistening eyes that were staring at mother. He opened his mouth and two thin long fangs came out from the sides of his mouth. He leaned over my mother with those fangs waving over her face. The skin between the eyes tightened until it tore. There weren't six eyes but two giant bulbous eyes that were fixed in the center of his huge egg-shaped head. As he leaned over my mother the shirt on his back was bubbling with activity. It was like boiling water. The torrent motion of the shirt on his back increased and built to such intensity until it burst, spilling out thousands of tiny black spiders. They washed out of the meandering wall like ants out of an anthill. The image changed again, but this time he saw the small town of Winters from an aerial point of view. There at the point where the CornerStore was stood a shadow in the shape of a man. The shadow spread out his arms and like a torrent river it spilled out over the land. It reached its dark hands out over trees and fields until it covered everything living and dead. My eyes moved lower and as I looked closer I could see tiny legs beating the ground, jumping from limb to leaf and devouring everything in its path. There was a sound that accompanied those spiders that sounded mechanical in nature. It was the clicking of metal on metal, almost like the sound rain made when the first droplets hit it during a summer shower. I continued to lower closer and closer to the spider covered ground. I had seemed immune to fear floating high above the ground, but as I neared the ground fear stabbed at my insides. It twisted around my stomach as I could smell the musky smell of insects. There was a vibration that moved the air the closer I got to the busy bodies. Just below me the spiders began to slow and even some stopped entirely as if they could sense me and still without control I got nearer to them. I was seven feet above them and some of the beasts started jumping towards me like a child stretching for a piñata. Just hoping to grasp a hold of a piece of clothing or limb so it could claim its prize. Two, three and four jumped at me and soon there was a pile beginning to build as others sensed me. They had come to join in on the fun. I tried pulling away, but I was no longer in control of my movement, if I ever had been in control. As the arachnid pile too shape one managed to hook its legs onto my dangling shirt and climbed around to my back. He was king of the hill, the spider who would be king until another managed to catch another part of me. I don't know how long it took or how many had breeched the distance and climbed onto me, but there were a lot. I could feel their tiny legs tickling my arm and neck. They were exploring my body like some new country. They crawled across my face and inspected my ears and nose. My arms were useless and I was powerless to stop them. I opened my mouth to scream and two of them took this opportunity to venture in my dry horse mouth. Their hard bodies resistant to my biting teeth, but I was not so resistant to theirs. They bit my tongue and the inside of my mouth. That was when I knew it was hopeless and I dropped. Like a stone in a still pond I dropped and was swallowed by the black waters. Their legs combed the hair on my head and their fangs sunk deep into every inch of my flesh.