The Worms by Nathanael Munn

Meet David McConnel, he’s a simple man laboring away in the sweltering noon heat as a lonely construction worker. Today David will travel that desolate highway as he comes face-to-face with his deepest fear, the worm, in the Cimmerian.”

A clew of worms on a fiendish cavalcade of the damned languidly arched, bent and undulated their spindly segmented bodies’ in elongated lethargic movements. The blasphemous grubs started a slime trail at David’s ankles that bled from taught bondages securing his limbs in place. They crept and writhed forward up his legs, past his knees and thighs, across his abdomen and chest, then freed themselves from the open neckline of his soiled tee-shirt.


Every strand of hair on David’s legs and arms bristled. His stomach churned and his palms clammed. His body wrenched in a state of confusion that vacillated between ticklish laughter and itching madness tempered with putrid disgust. When the raw odor of David’s flesh wafted and reached their starved psyches the worms became frenzied, galvanized and ready to fill their starved gullets.

David’s muscles contracted and expanded while his skin broke out in goose pimples. The worms’ movements were cold, slick and unnerving. He wanted to lift his head, but it too was bound, all he could do is glare down the end of his nose hoping for a simple glimpse of the approaching menaces.

Ahh,” David screamed realizing his worst nightmare was unfolding before his eyes. His life-long phobia of worms wreaked havoc on his mental stability. If he hadn’t been bound he would fainted and collapsed.


Frantic David struggled feverishly with his bonds but lamented as each pull, tug or quick jerk only tightened the ropes that bound him to the metal table. His blood continued to trickle from his ankles and now from his wrists which added to the growing pools of blood on the floor. It’s useless, he thought.

David shouted in near hysterics, “Why is this happening? Please God, make it stop.” Tears welled in his eyes as the bitter realization that he lay powerless to defend himself against the onslaught of invading marauders. 


Suddenly, an overwhelming urge to scratch and claw consumed David’s mind. His heart raced and thudded against his ribs. He broke out in
cold sweats and shivered as fluorescent stars filled his blurred vision. His ears rang with deep piercing tones that jackhammered distorted visions in his brain of the Angel of Death lurking in the shadows like a buzzard waiting for imminent death.

The streaming clew continued to gnaw and bite while they waggled and squirmed their devious pathways into David’s nose, ears and mouth. Even with David’s clinched teeth, they slithered their ropy bodies through his clamped mouth. Soon the invading army penetrated each orifice hungering and salivating for David’s human delights. David moaned as felt every twitch of the slimy pests vacillating movements.

Up around and twisting trough his sinus canals the slimy corruptions migrated en route to their eventual goal, the brain. His cheeks bulged. His cheeks stretched and his skin and facial tissue tore dribbling blood down his neck that puddled on the sides of his head.

David coughed and sputtered and expelled several of the vermin from his mouth but they kept coming overwhelming his gag reflexes. Again David choked and gargled as a steady stream of worms slid in his throat and swelled his esophagus.

As the worms entered his mouth, David whimpered when the wiggling the bodies traipsed around his tongue leaving a rotting flavor of dirt and the texture of slimy squishiness. Soon he winced and his body tensed as his miniature foes danced in his stomach.

David Puked and hundreds of the soil dwellers flung free of his mouth. They exploded upwards in a puree of half-digested food and bile. Once gravity took hold the hodgepodge of sickness splatted on his face and chest. David spat and coughed but as the creatures regrouped and advanced.

He screamed with unholy torture, “Oh God, make the suffering stop.” David’s head hummed and echoed with each chomp and grind of his tantalizing meat. The reverberating noise in his skull drove him closer the precipice of madness. The chewing and burrowing blights move ever further into his throbbing cranium and take delight on nibbling on his brain tissue.

Thump, thud, squiggle and pound the continuing tumult of the eating parasites reached a piercing pitch that rippled shockwaves of fear, uncertainty, and death in David thoughts. Terror and pain traversed in pulsing waves then paralyzed David’s contorted face. If he wasn’t shackled to the metal table David would have dug in his nails deep into his flesh and tore it off long ago if it meant removing the unwanted intruders from devouring him, from the inside and out.

David grimaced, he wept and tried to scream for aid but the words fell captive in the back of his throat making releasing garbled speech. His head throbbed, his limbs twitched and soon after the incomprehensible utterances subsided and changed to primal grunts.

He lay preparing his mind for certain death when The Doors, “This is The End,” blared in his thoughts. David stood front and center of a concert enjoying the music, crowds and smoky atmosphere. Soon music faded away in still darkness and his numbing body floated listlessly amongst the stars.

Saliva and stomach acid commingled with the backflow of blood left in the wakes of the tunneling worms then ejected from his mouth, nose, and ears in a volcanic eruption of crimson froth. David’s glistening slippery gore avalanched into piles of human residue on the floor.

Before David’s brain turned to a cream-hued gelatinous mush on the floor, one last thought crossed his mind and hung in the either until it dissipated forever, I wonder if God will forgive all my sins?




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