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.