Short Horror Stories ^~^

The Petting Zoo

But first, I've got to get to that window. Be careful, he cautioned himself. This barn must be full of junk. Don't want to fall down and get hurt.

Despite the heat in the barn, he shivered. Licking the sweat off his upper lip, Johnson slowly picked his way across the wide wooden-planked barn floor, being careful not to trip. Shadows of old machinery and tools loomed around him. A leather harness that hung from the wall looked like a hangman's noose.

There was a peculiar smell, too. It reminded him of a package of chicken that he once left in the trunk of his car on a hot summer day. It was the sickly, sweet scent of rotting meat.

Oh, gross! muttered Johnson. There's a dead animal in here.

In less than a minute he had crossed the barn and was standing in front of the boarded-up window. Blocking his exit were three boards nailed haphazardly into the frame.

Either the old man was too weak or too lazy to drive them all the way in, concluded Johnson. I can probably pull them off with my bare hands, he smiled triumphantly.

The first board was half-rotted and fell apart in his hands. Light streamed in as it came away from the frame. Then he shifted his attention to the second one - the board in the middle. If he could get this one off, he could easily climb out.

But this board wouldn't be so easy. It was like the old door of the barn, dried out and as tough as steel.

Gripping the board with both hands, he began pulling. The nails squealed in protest and the board started to move. Only a little bit further, grunted Johnson. The thought of throttling the old man excited him. Just a bit further....another half inch. He could almost feel his fingers closing around the old man's scrawny neck...the eyes bulging...the tongue sticking out. Another half inch...!

Then it stopped. Desperately, Johnson yanked at the board, but it was no use. It would not yield.

I need more leverage, he said to himself. Balancing on one foot, he braced his other against the window frame and started pulling again. The muscles in his forearms and back bulged as he strained against the board. Sweat rolled down his forehead and into his eyes. Come on, he pleaded with the wood. Come on.

In his frustration, Johnson did not hear the soft tap...tap...tap on the floor behind him. Tap...tap....tap. Like a blind man with his cane. Tap...tap...tap. Then it was too late. It struck.

The force of the attack rammed him face first up against the wall knocking the wind out of him. Warm blood trickled from his nose and ran down his cheek.

What was that?

Turning around slowly, he could see, in the light from the window, his attacker. It was crouched inside an empty stall along the opposite wall. The legs tensed ready to spring. It was a spider. No doubt one of the old man's experiments. But this was no ordinary spider. It was huge. About the size of a pit bull, with legs that extended out three or four feet on either side. Its eyes stared coldly at him.

Johnson did a quick tally of his injuries. Except for his bloody nose, he was unharmed. Perhaps the large size of the creature made it difficult for it to mount an attack, he conjectured. Possibly it did not even recognize him as prey.

Spiders normally eat moths and insects, he reminded himself. Not human beings.

When he was a kid, Johnson liked to throw twigs into a web just to see the spider's reaction. Invariably, after pouncing on the object, the spider would pluck it out of the web, turn it over and drop it on the ground. Johnson hoped this spider would show the same lack of interest.