by Sharon Eberhardt

Harry awoke in the night with an upset stomach. He swallowed bile and nausea hit him like a fist. Time to get up and stagger toward the bathroom. He had eaten far too much at the fair. When would he learn? The kids had indulged too much also. Not good. He'd have to deal with them in the morning. He reached over to turn on the lamp and was startled to find he couldn't move. Something sticky and horrible was glued to him. The room was in total darkness and he was puzzled, to say the least. What the hell was this stuff? He felt with his fingers, rubbing the substance that bound him. He appeared to be wrapped in it like a cocoon. He could barely wiggle his toes and his face was stuck to the pillow. When he tried to pull away it seemed to bind even harder. What an awful sensation! If only he could see.

Harry wasn't one to become claustrophobic but this was beginning to get to him. The harder he wiggled and jerked around, the faster he became bound up in this mess. He lay still and tried to think for a moment. The substance wasn't rope, yet it was strong. And very stringy. It had an odor but for the life of him, he couldn't make it out. Then he remembered. The fair! Cotton candy! That was it! It had to be. The kids had brought an awful lot of it home in bags. Shades of blue and pink, spun sticky candy stuffed in plastic bags hung from their waistlines as they swaggered home beside him. He remembered commenting to them about being such gluttons.

Somehow, the kids must have snuck up here while he was sleeping and bound him up with the bloody stuff! How on earth did they do it without him waking up? He'd had a few scotches before retiring but he didn't remember getting stinko. No. He was quite sober when he went to bed.

"Kids! Jeffery! Kim! Lawrence! Get up here NOW!" he barked. Silence. Of course, it 'was the middle of the night. The kids were probably sound asleep. They had waited until he dropped off then snuck up here and somehow, someway, managed to tie him up with this cotton candy. He wasn't amused. Oh, he'd pulled his share of tricks on his parents when he was young. Once he set a bucket of water on top of a doorway. The old man had walked through and bam! Water, bucket and all had fallen on him. That had been a mean trick. The bucket almost killed his old man. He hadn't the imagination his own kids had though. It took quite the trick to bind him up with this stuff while he was asleep.

All the while Harry was thinking, he was wiggling, hoping to somehow free himself. It was only cotton candy for heaven sake! Why was it so tight? Why was it getting tighter? He noticed this as he pondered. It was around his face and hair. He touched it with his tongue and the taste was putrid! It didn't taste like no cotton candy he remembered! Harry started to buck and thrust against the horrible stuff. He thrust his body left and right, all to no avail. The more he moved, the tighter and more claustrophobic the binding became. His face broke out in sweat and he started to scream for his boys. He could no longer bear this torture.

Suddenly there was a movement from above him. He 'sensed' more than saw a lumbering mass hulking before him. "What the hell?" His mind was in total chaos now. What kind of a trick was this? What kind of monstrous children did he have? He lay still, listening for sound. He swore he heard breathing from the ceiling. Impossible! Harry's mind was coming apart.

"I'm dreaming" he thought. "That's it. This is some kind of nightmare from eating all that junk food at the fair. It's gotta be. Oh Christ, I wish the kids would wake up. I wish "I" would wake up. But I don't feel asleep? Oh please, please, c'mon Harry, boy, wake up!"

He struggled again. The room was beginning to lighten just a little. Dawn must be approaching. Light started to spill in from the one window in Harry's bedroom. Such a small amount of light.

But enough to see the enormous grey spider asleep in the upper corner of the ceiling. It awoke from the struggling it sensed, its fangs dripping poison and stealthily made its way toward its catch.

Harry just had time to scream.

Sharon Eberhardt writes: "When I was a child other kids were hoarding their pennies for candy or the latest 'Archie' comic books. I waited with baited breath for "Tales from the Crypt" or my favorite, "The Twilight Zone". I would rush to the store just as the delivery man arrived and buy the latest edition. Rod Serling was a hero to me. Not just because he wrote stories that made me gasp and kept me glued to the TV on Friday night, but because I knew that surprise. . .that certain 'twist' at the end of his story, would delight and terrify me. I read everything he wrote and Ray Bradbury came in as a close second. As a writer, I never took myself seriously until I was recently published as 'featured author' in a magazine. With a wonderful daughter to raise and a nursing career, I rarely had time to indulge in my favorite playtime. Writing! Because of Mr. Serling's wonderful work, I try to fashion my stories after him. At least most of them. I spun this little tale for my daughter, Ravonna, who has always been my inspiration because of her faith in me. I hope you enjoy it as she did. I think there's a Twilight Zone in everything around us...if we look deep enough and let our imaginations soar as Mr. Serling did. Enjoy!"