©®2005/06

The Ticket

It waited behind an old antique stove, discolored by age and filth.
A child spotted it while playing with robots on the kitchen floor. The dollar rested near the back wall, too far for small hands to reach. Covered with lint and grime it sat surrounded by discarded toys, old spoons and strands of used dental floss - treasures the child had long forgotten.
On a cold morning when the sky held heavy clouds, and the hour seemed much later than it should, the child's face would be pressed to a cold kitchen floor where only one eye at a time could glimpse the stove's dark and secretive underworld.
A shadow approached from beneath the filth.
It was a spider.
This was his lair.
This was his dollar.
The spider was a massive black thing, crusted with age. It crept with brittle legs up the child's frozen hand, then arm, finally resting upon a nose.
There a bargain was struck. The child never spoke, or remembered the encounter. A simple mind brewing with the dreams of treasures the dollar could buy.
The child disappeared. After months of searching the family gave in to grief, leaving the town and the child's memories forever. Years passed and other family's took turns living in the house with the antique stove. Each family had a young child, and each child paid for their ticket.