Pushing the door open, I stepped into the enclosed space. It was cooler inside, dark and again lit only by red lights. There was no defined path to follow and the walls were covered in a thick layer of webbing. Okay, this was a bit more interesting than the last tent.
The door slid shut behind me, closing with a loud bang that echoed throughout the empty space and died against the web covered walls. I stood still for a moment, expecting some sort of jump scare.There were no display cases that I could see, and it took my eyes a moment to adjust to the change in lighting. The air smelled earthy, dank. The floor beneath me was soft.
Walking slowly, I made my way further into the tent and realized that the space was open, but the ability to move was hindered by strings of webbing. I touched one, expecting to feel the soft cotton of the Halloween store webs, but these were sticky.
“Ew,” I whispered to myself, even as I touched more.
There was a slight sheen to the fibers, and the stickiness did not cling to my skin when I pulled away.
“Hello?” I asked, wondering what this tent was meant to do.
The clown said it was a spider house, but there were no spiders hanging around. Were they just loose in the webbing? That sounded dangerous. I stepped away from the web covered walls and looked up toward the high ceiling.
“Hello?” I asked again.
“Hello,” a deep voice replied.
My eyes widened as the voice’s timber vibrated down my body. I heard something shift above me, and I felt my knees shake in uncertainty.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Who are you?” the deep voice asked again.
“I was told this was the spider house,” I hesitated.
“Yes, it is my house. Much to my dismay and loneliness.”
I heard the pain in the man’s voice. Was this part of the show? I stepped further into the darkness, realizing the ceiling above me opened up several feet. Looking up, I saw the peak of the tent’s structure covered in webbing. There was a large white mass in the top corner and a large dark shadow lingering next to it.
“It is hard to see in here,” I commented.
Something flashed above me. The dark mass moved, creeping closer to me, and I tried not to let my fear show. Maybe this was just a jump scare attraction.
“I am not a fan of bright lights,” the voice replied. “You smell like dew.”
I heard a scuttle noise and was able to see as the dark figure moved closer to me. I could see the outline of shoulders and a head. I swallowed the lump in my throat as he moved closer. I caught a glimpse of pale skin as the man moved toward one of the red lights. There was a glow on his face, a type of paint, I assumed. The soft dirt beneath my feet shifted as a heavy weight touched the ground near me.
“So . . . What is the show?” I asked, taking a step toward the door.
As I stood there, I noticed the damp earth smell was mixing with something else. It smelt like nothing, but was at the same time making me intrigued. I felt my body start to tingle. My pussy began to throb as if I had snorted one of those gas station libido pills.
“Can I touch you?” the deep voice asked.
“I would rather have names before getting fondled in a dark tent,” I told him.
“I am –” The word was jumbled. A series of clicks and gurgles that made no sense to me.
“What?” I asked.
“They call me Bishop, in your language.”
Your language?This was getting a bit too weird, even for me. I wanted to walk back toward the door, but my intrigue was holding me in place. That and the idea of walking and feeling my jeans press against my suddenly aroused clit was a bit too much for me.
“I am Justine.”
“Justine.”
His voice went deeper as he said my name. He exhaled it like it was a breath he had been holding for too long. The way he said it made my chest tighten. The shadow moved closer, and I realized what looked like a human torso was surrounded by a darkness that stretched far wider than a regular human’s form.