Unplugged

by Greg Schwartz

“Josh!” His mom stomped into his room. “I’ve been calling you.”

“Sorry, Mom. Trying to kill this monster.” Josh feverishly manoeuvred the controller, his face contorted in concentration.

“You’ve been playing all day,” she said. “Time to turn it off.”

“Two minutes,” Josh pleaded, eyes never leaving the screen.

She yanked the power cord. The screen went black.

“Mom!” Josh’s face paled. “You don’t understand—”

“Next time, listen when I…” Her voice trailed off. “What was that?”

Far away, there was a thud. Then another, closer.

Thud. THUD. The floor shook.

THUD. THUD. The windows rattled.

Josh whispered, “Run.”

Greg Schwartz

Greg Schwartz writes speculative fiction and poetry. He lives with his wife, children, and dog. No spiders.