CREEPY CRAWLIES

Halloween Stories | Feb 15, 2013 | 6 min read
12 Votes, average: 3 out of 5
Halloween Stories

CREEPY CRAWLIES

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CREEPY CRAWLIES
 





 

Bugs!" Sharon screamed as she saw the thin line of ants marching across the picnic blanket.








 

   "Now honey, they won't hurt you. They're just helping themselves to our leftovers," her mother said.








 

   Sure enough, Sharon spied bread crumbs and other bits of their meal clutched in the ants' tiny jaws as they moved off into the grass. Sharon's face twisted in disgust. Jumping to her feet, she began stomping on the ants, her eyes burning with frightened intensity. The tiny creatures scurried in confusion, trying to avoid the crush of her giant foot.








 

   "Sharon!" her mother shouted, alarmed at her daughter's behavior.








 

   But the girl ignored her, totally caught up in her frenzy. When the last of the ants were dead or gone, she finally calmed down. "I hate bugs!,"  she said emphatically.








 

   And so she did. As long as she could remember, Sharon had hated the ugly little "Creepy-crawlies," as she called them. Even butterflies gave her the willies as they fluttered around the garden behind the house. But she especially hated spiders and roaches, the bugs that scuttled out of sight when the lights were switched on.








 

   Every night Sharon would take her flashlight and search under the bed. If something crawled there, she had her can of bug spray ready. Only when they were all dead could she go to sleep. Then, in the morning, she shook out her shoes to see if anything had nested there from the last time she wore them, shivering if something fell out. She even pretended to be sick so she could stay home from school the week her science teacher discussed insects and their benefits to the planet.








 

   But it was her "bug hunts" that Sharon lived for. That afternoon, when they returned home from the picnic, Sharon grabbed her can of bug spray and headed into the basement. It didn't matter that her mother hired a service to come in and spray for insects, Sharon always found more. Always.








 

   "Where are you going, Sharon?" her mother asked, seeing her daughter's determined look.








 

   "Bug hunting."








 

   "Honey, why don't you leave them alone?"








 

   Sharon stared at her mother in disbelief. Why would anyone want to save bugs? Grabbing a flashlight, she descended into the dark basement. The beam caught a family of roaches in the middle of the floor. "Got ya!" she yelled, blasting them with the spray. They twitched and squirmed as the lethal liquid covered their bodies. Leaving them behind, Sharon tiptoed around the room, beaming the flashlight around as she looked for more prey.








 

   In a corner she found a spider in its web, about to devour a fly. She destroyed them both without thinking twice.








 

   "Those men did not spray good enough, mom!" Sharon shouted.








 

   Her mother didn't answer. Suddenly Sharon heard something and whirled, stabbing the darkness with her flashlight.








 

   More roaches!








 

   Her eyes widened in fury as she spied a dozen or more of the wretched bugs scurrying for cover. Quickly she squashed or sprayed as many as she could, missing a couple that disappeared into holes in the walls.








 

   "I'll get you!" she yelled. "Just you wait."








 

   That night, the bug patrol turned up two spiders and a roach. More than usual. Sharon bit her lip as she climbed under the sheets. She wondered if she should keep the can of bug spray under her pillow. But the spray was expensive and her mother refused to buy any more. In fact, Sharon had spent all her saved-up allowance on bug spray, and her last can was running out.








 

   Snapping off her bedside light, she lay under the covers, stiff as a board. It was always like this. Waiting . . . waiting to feel something crawl across her skin. Soon her eyes grew heavy and she drifted off to sleep.








 

   She gasped as she bolted awake. What was wrong? Something was wrong. She reached for her light and felt tiny legs scuttle across her hand. Stifling a scream, Sharon grabbed for the spray.








 

   It was gone!








 

   In terror, she snapped on her light and found herself living her worst nightmare. The floor was swimming with insects of every description: Spiders, ants, roaches, silverfish, millipedes, earwigs, beetles, termites, flies, maggots, ticks, knats, worms, grasshoppers, daddy long legs, praying mantises, locusts, crickets, centipedes, mosquitoes, bees, hornets, wasps, scorpions, slugs, leeches, tarantulas, cicadas, even butterfly's, and bugs she couldn't even identify, horrible slithery things that made her stomach turn.








 

   She tried to shout for help, but her words came out a strangled whisper.








 

   It was then that she saw the first wave of bugs creeping over the edge of her bed. She could see their antennae waving furiously, their tiny jaws snapping in anticipation. Closer and closer they came, thousands of legs moving with grim determination.








 

   "No," she whimpered, huddling against the headboard, tears flooding her eyes. "I didn't mean it."








 

   On they came.








 

   As the first bug touched the bare skin of her feet, she found her voice and let out a bloodcurdling scream.








 

   "What was that?" her father said, waking with a start.








 

   Sharon's mother sighed. "Oh, Sharon probably saw a roach on the floor."








 

   Her father shook his head. "I'm going to have a talk with her. This bug nonsense has gotten out of hand."








 

   Pulling on his bathrobe, he stalked across the hall and opened the door to Sharon's room. Then he stopped cold, staring in mute horror at the scene before him. The skeleton of his daughter lay on her bed, picked clean of skin and muscle. Her skeletal jaw forever locked frozen in an expression of terror and suffering. He never noticed the thousands of eyes that watched him hungrily from the crevices of the room. They stirred and began to move toward him. Now that they have tasted flesh, they would never be satisfied with bread crumbs again.





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