The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Pitter Patter 
by Elaine Pascale 

.Pitter Patter.

“You missed again.”

The boys had wasted an entire box of ammo on the window. There had been arguments about the best use of their collective money: candy, comics, or BBs. The desire for destruction, as well as to be the heroes who put the urban legend to rest, had won out.

Pitter Patter.

“It’s crazy…you can hear it, can’t you?” Jimmy stuffed his hands in his pockets. He had voted on candy, but being the youngest, his vote counted the least. He wanted to be far away from the factory; he didn’t want to get into trouble.

“You’re imagining it,” Brandon scoffed, even though he could hear the light tapping noise, as well. “You’ve heard the stories too many times. Makes you expect the noise.”

Pitter Patter.

“It does sound like fingers, tapping on the pane.” Eric lined up the gun site with the window. “All those people, trapped inside when the wrecking balls let loose.”

“They were kept there on purpose,” Jimmy added. “So that the factory would collapse right on them. And we should just let them be. Let their ghosts rest.”

Eric spat his gum onto the grass beside him. “I wanna try again.”

“We only have the one box left,” Brandon said, “let’s save it for another day.”

Eric spat again, even though there was nothing in his mouth to expel. Spitting settled his nerves and covered the sound coming from the window. “We gotta break it today. We break it and run like hell. We don’t get caught and the stupid noise finally stops.” He pointed the gun at Brandon. “Unless you wanna try.”

Brandon shook his head and watched as Eric took aim.

Pitter Patter.

Eric’s aim was true, but the BB ricocheted back onto the ground, leaving not even a dent in the pane.

Pitter Patter.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to shoot at ghosts,” Jimmy whispered, hating that the other boys knew that he believed the legend.

“There’s no ghosts,” Eric sneered, lining up his shot again.

Pitter Patter.

This time, a small crack appeared in the glass and the boys waited in silence until they heard it again.

Pitter Patter.

“That’s it.” Eric squatted and aimed for the fracture he had made. “I am telling you, no ghosts.”

A small hole appeared in the window, centered amongst the crackling pane. Eric had been right, there were no ghosts. Instead, there were spiders, numbering in the millions. What wasn’t legend was that there were many varieties of poisonous arachnids in their neck of the woods and a militia of them poured through the hole, running toward the boys.

Running fast.

Fiction © Copyright Elaine Pascale
Image courtesy of Pixaby.com

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