The Scorpion Nest: A Short Story

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  A third of the way down the stairs, Joel turned around.

  Sonnet dug in, her legs spread for leverage as she tried to pull the door shut.

  “Let it go!”

  When Sonnet’s hand slipped off the knob, Joel froze in terror as he watched her fall to the floor. On her back, she was pulled toward the room by an invisible force. The room’s ceiling caved upward, creating a dark chasm. Sonnet screamed as she turned on to her stomach. She dug her fingers into the carpeting in the loft but to no avail. She was sucked into the room and up through the ceiling.

  With the suction intensifying, Joel couldn’t breathe. His feet turned to lead. Before he could decide what to do, the suction took hold of him.

  He grabbed the handrail. “No.”

  Too late. He, too, was pulled into the room, off the bedroom floor and up toward the ceiling; all the scorpions had left the room. He ascended through the hole before landing face down in the attic, near the hole through which he came. Joel felt hot, partly because his was racing, and partly because the attic was the only part of the house that wasn’t air conditioned against the dry Arizona heat.

  Joel took an inventory of the dark, spacious, and unused area. Debris from the caved ceiling was scattered about the floor. Sonnet lay on the other side of the gap. She whimpered as she held her leg. It looked broken. Meanwhile, countless scorpions—far more than had been in the bedroom—were scattered across the floor and onto the walls. But they weren’t attacking. They surrounded Joel and Sonnet, content to stay where they were.

  “I’m sorry,” Sonnet said, out of breath.

  Joel sat up to face his wife, the hole only a foot in front of him. “Sorry for what?”

  A chirping noise came from the darkness to Joel’s left.

  “What the hell was that?” he asked.

  “Hang on,” Sonnet said. She reached into her pocket, pulled out the flashlight and turned it on, pointing it toward the racket.

  They both screamed. A colossal scorpion, the size of a horse, stalked before them. It could not have come from this earth. Its claws were sharp enough to tear through armor. Its tail, curled into the air, was as long as a giraffe’s neck.

  Sonnet let out another scream, dropping her flashlight. The creature, distracted by the light, turned its attention to the woman.

  Joel looked at the beast and then back at his wife. “No!”

  The scorpion lashed its tail, impaling Sonnet through her chest and out her back.

  Joel screamed Sonnet’s name, his eyes moistening. The creature slung Sonnet on her side before withdrawing its tail from her lifeless body which secreted blood and venom. Joel kicked in a feeble attempt to distance himself from the beast, throwing his arm behind himself for stability. The scorpions behind him retreating out of his reach, Joel’s hand fell on a piece of a wooden beam.

  In one instinctual motion, Joel grabbed the jagged beam and swung at the creature’s incoming tail.

  As he had all those years ago in the batter’s box, Joel made solid contact, severing the monster’s tail. The beast squealed and fell over as its tail bounced on the floor behind it. The pest feverishly kicked its eight legs before coming to a stop. The bug was dead. The man caught his breath after holding it for the majority of the ordeal. He looked at his wife, bloodied and drowned in scorpion venom. He didn’t dare touch her.

  Joel backed away from it all: the chasm, the monster, his wife. Tears filled his eyes and a lump formed in his throat.

  He looked at his wife; her body was moving. Toward him. What the hell? Still on her back, her eyes wide awake but her body sound asleep, Sonnet floated toward Joel. The blood and venom that once consumed her body was disappearing. As she drew closer, Joel realized— the scorpions were carrying her.

  The scorpions placed Sonnet’s body on the floor in front of Joel and scattered. Joel could only focus on his wife’s face.

  “Sonnet,” he whispered.

  No response.

  “No.” Joel kneeled and slid Sonnet’s eyelids closed. The blood and venom were gone but the hole in her chest remained. He picked her up by the small of her back and drew her close, burying his face into her neck and shoulders as his emotions consumed him.

  He stopped. Something was strange. The scorpions had given the couple a 10-foot radius. They were perfectly aligned, as though watching a performance. The scorpions created a halo around the husband and his felled wife.