Fly by Deborah Tapper

The plane slams to a jarring halt, then hangs stationary at 35,000 feet as anxious pilots check every possible instrument, bewilderment rapidly becoming alarm. Shaken passengers peer out, bruised and fearful, unable to understand why they’re not falling.

Straining engines bellow and shudder, but the plane still won’t move. People imagine plummeting through fluffy clouds, that final pulverising impact. Some start panicking: screaming, wrenching at the doors. Others pull them away.

“There!” A little girl by a window, pointing out.

They crowd around her, staring in disbelief at the colossal web.

And the enormous spider, clambering greedily down towards them.

 

 

About the Author

Deborah Tapper has been published in anthologies, magazines, and online. She lives in the middle of nowhere with her understanding partner, drinks too much strong tea and writes at an old desk surrounded by five hundred pet bugs.