Flytrap | WATTYS 2022 SHORTLIST

23 | Poison Ivy

Something hard and with all the force of a speeding truck slammed into Barbara, knocking her flat on her back. Head spinning, she couldn't even scream as a pair of fangs descended on her. Without thinking, Barbara swung the stake out in front of her just in time to avoid having her throat ripped out by the demonic bride.

As Pamela bit down on the length of wood, snarling and clawing at the girl trapped beneath her, Barbara could hear screams and gasps from the other guests. She didn't dare look away, knowing the second she took her attention off Pamela, she would rip her teeth free and bite her. With nothing but the stake separating her from the mouth of gnashing fangs above her, Barbara desperately pushed back, using all her strength to keep Pamela at bay. Damn it, why hadn't she been pumping iron all those weeks instead?

A string of white saliva trickled from Pamela's lips and onto Barbara's cheek. Unlike regular drool, which was hot and sticky, this felt like a melting ice cube pressed against her skin. Closing her eyes in disgust, Barbara prayed to whatever god was listening that this would be over soon and the end wouldn't be as painful as she imagined. But as she opened her eyes and stared into those blood-red ones only inches above her, Barbara knew her death would be excruciating.

Just when she thought her arms would give out, a black figure with the eyes of glowing embers came into view above, tackling Pamela to the ground. Now able to finally breathe again, Barbara swallowed down huge gulps of air, thinking each one might be her last before Pamela's crushing weight fell over her a second time. Listening to the horrifying, animalistic sounds coming from somewhere off to the side, Barbara's world was suddenly sent spinning as she was lifted upright.

"Barbara! Are you all right?" Her father's worried face appeared in front of her, his glasses slipping off the tip of his nose. "Did—Did she hurt you?"

Barbara shook her head, clinging to him in fear that the moment she'd let go, he'd disappear. "No." She glanced down at the stake still clutched in her still-bleeding hand.

Shit.

"We need to get out of here!"

Without another word, James grabbed the back of her wheelchair and pushed Barbara forward down the aisle. But they hadn't even made it halfway when they abruptly stopped, noticing a crowd gathered by the doors. What the hell? Did they not see what just happened? What were they standing around for instead of running for their lives?

"I smell smoke." James's voice wavered from behind.

Barbara glanced down, and sure enough, a haze of thick, black smoke was seeping out underneath the doors. From what she could see in-between the cracks of huddled bodies, large orange flames burned out in the hall, growing bigger and brighter with each piece of rotting wood they consumed. The oil-based paint coating the walls didn't help any, only adding the fuel to keep it from smoldering out.

That explained why the guests were at a standstill; they were trapped.

Seeing there was no way past the frightened, indecisive crowd, Barbara turned to her dad and yelled, "Is there another way out?"

James shook his head as he steered Barbara back from the ever-rising cloud of smoke. "That's the only way!"

"Then we're just going to have to—"

Barbara froze mid-sentence as she saw the figure standing in front of them, blocking their path. Covered in fresh blood and scratches, Pamela circled them, her mouth twisted into a horrifying grin that nearly stretched ear-to-ear.

"Where are you going, James?" The glare on her face burned hotter than any of the fast-approaching flames. "The wedding isn't over yet!"

"Stay away, Pamela!" He whipped out his gun and ran out in front of Barbara, all while keeping the gun aimed on Pamela.