I swallowed a worm four days ago. Things have gotten worse since then.

I know it was stupid. I’m not looking for judgement calls here. A dares a dare, alright? 

My roommates, Jason and Kurt, some of their friends, and I were more than a few drinks in. Someone got a little creative with their dare, and told me to eat an earthworm they found in my backyard. They said it wouldn’t be that bad, that they knew some friend of a friend of a friend who did the same thing last week and that it was hilarious.

Having missed Kurt’s birthday party a few nights before, I was eager to do anything to participate. I made sure to wash the little pink, writhing, grubby creature in the sink first to get the dirt off. It squirmed between my pinched fingers, like it knew what was about to happen.

It felt soft and gummy between my teeth. I pulverized it between my molars and swallowed hard, leaving a metallic, earthy taste in the back of my throat. I held it down with another shot and thought nothing of it. Everyone grimaced and laughed and clapped, and we went on with the night.

I felt like death that next day. I’ve always been bad with hangovers and that morning was no exception. I had a pounding headache and narrow vision. When I stood up from my bed to get some ibuprofen, I realized I had that still-drunk, clumsy sea legs feeling. Amongst my symptoms, though, was something else that I wasn’t expecting. 

My stomach hurt. It started when I gulped down some cold water from the fridge; intense, sharp, cramping pains. It was enough to make me double over. 

I sat down on the dusty couch with my pills and water, squinting from the warm sunlight pouring through the blinds. I felt like a vampire. 

It didn’t take me long to make the obvious connection. I did eat a worm about ten hours earlier, after all. Maybe worms were my garlic. When my headache eased off, I stepped into the backyard. 

Cool, dewy strips of grass threaded between my toes. I scanned the yard, locating the small hole dug out to find the worm the night before. I dropped to my knees and inspected the soil. Now closer, I could see the uniform brown mass was really teaming with life– all these little bugs and pale roots and tiny pebbles. I almost felt guilty.

My stomach pain eased partially. I thought it was maybe the fresh air and sunlight that helped ease my sickness. I realized that I had unconsciously dug my fingers into the dirt underneath me. I pulled them out, now covered in speckles of dark, wet soil.

I walked inside. The shade of the roof over my head, the cold tile beneath my feet, the A/C air filling my lungs; it all made my hangover swing back into full force. Luckily it was a day off from school or work, so I went straight back to bed.

I woke up to the disquieting buzz of my phone alarm. I lifted my hand off my face and turned it off. I felt much better, my hangover pretty much completely gone by then, likely due to the fact that I had just slept for four hours. 

Walking into the bathroom, I saw a dark smudge across my mouth and cheeks. For a second, I thought I saw something wiggle in my right eye, like a floater, but more opaque. I rubbed my eyes deeply. I looked down at myself and remembered the soil on my hand that I hadn’t cleaned off. I really needed a shower.

The warm water pelted down onto me. I watched it attack the dirt on my hand, washing off in little dark droplets. It made the skin tingle. My face felt the same way. My stomach still hurt.

I took some antacid tablets and tried to ignore it for the rest of the day. 

I found dirt under my nails the next morning. I figured it was just residual from the day before, until I found it under the nails of my other hand, too. I also felt warm, to the point of being feverish. Eager to skip, I called out sick from classes for the day.

I found Jason in the kitchen and asked him if he could get me the contact info of the other guy that supposedly ate a worm a week before I did. He quickly caught on to the fact that I was sick for obvious reasons. Although he didn’t know the guy well himself, he said that he went to the birthday party a few days ago and that Kurt knew him.

So I called Kurt.

“The worm guy? You mean the one that isn’t you? Jared?” Kurt’s voice was thick with amusement at my question.

I responded quietly. “Yeah, him. I was hoping you could give me his number or address or something so I can contact him.” 

 “Hah, I remember now. He threw up in the backyard at my birthday party. I’ll text you his info,” he said.

“Was that when he ate the worm?” I tried not to sound overly worried.

“No, that must have been some other thing days before my party. I never saw it happen.” He sounded confused. “Why do you even care?”

“I just feel like shit. Think it’s because of the worm. I’m gonna call him, see if he’s okay.”

“Maybe that’s just karma for skipping my birthday,” he said, snickering. Then his voice calmed. “You better feel good soon, don’t forget you owe me dinner tomorrow. You promised.” 

He hung up.

I called and texted the number a good number of times to no reply. I tried to not be concerned, but something felt wrong. I hoped that I was just imagining things.

I went outside, barefoot once again. The backyard was littered with little holes of varying size, from an inch to a foot deep. They were all clearly dug by hand. A pit formed in my stomach. I felt the dirt between my fingers and the fuzzy, hot cloud in my skull started to fade.

I spent most of the day after that rotting in my bed, taking medicine and drinking water. Nothing helped much. 

When I brushed my teeth that night, my teeth felt weak. Like they would shift in the gums with each swipe of my toothbrush. I spat out the toothpaste and saliva. It looked odd in the light. Leaning down into the sink, I saw why.

To my utter disgust, I found dozens–no, hundreds–of tiny, speck sized worms in the glob of spit. They squirmed violently, these little squiggles of white hair. They gleamed in the light and made the fluid sparkle from a distance. I gagged at the sight and began feeling dizzy. 

I threw up what little was in my system into the toilet. More white bristles exploded out from the cloud of bile, separating into the water.

Strangely enough, the next day, I felt a lot better. I sat up in bed and realized my fever was completely gone. I was grateful, as Kurt was right, I had promised to make him dinner that day to make up for missing his party. 

In the bathroom, I found more dirt under my nails. A lot more. My fingertips were nearly black. Looking into the mirror, I saw something more concerning. There was dark soil stuck between my teeth. I felt a rush of butterflies and I raced to the backyard.

There was a giant hole in the center of the yard, probably only a foot wide, but deep enough that I couldn’t see the bottom. I didn’t even know what to think. My mind was numb. I just walked back inside, washed my hands and mouth, and left for class.

I cooked spaghetti and meatballs that night. Both Jason and Kurt ate with me, both asked plenty of questions about the holes in the backyard. Jason in particular was pissed. I feigned ignorance.

After dinner I went to my room to do some homework.

While staring at a page, I started to notice something from the corner of my eye. There was something on my hand.

I dropped the pencil and looked closely at my fingernails. There were tiny white tendrils waving underneath, real slow. As I watched, one of them fell out, squirming on the page. I watched it quickly shrivel up and go stiff.

I felt disturbed to my core, worse than I’d ever felt in my life. My lips quivered. I wanted to scream.

I desperately needed answers. Or advice. Something. I wasn’t sure what.

I pulled up Jared’s address on my phone and I drove straight to the house. It was 10pm. 

I banged on his door. 

Nothing. 

I shouted out for him. Nothing. 

I walked around to the front window. The living room was dark and empty. I followed around the side of his house, checking every window, all to no avail. Starting to sweat, I wiped my brow and hopped the gate into his backyard. I was going to find him.

I paced into the yard and stopped dead in my tracks.

There were deep holes, just like the one in my yard, everywhere. They permeated the entire space, more than I could count. 

One of them had something sticking out. It was hard to make out what it was from so far away in the dark.

I cautiously avoided the holes as I approached. When I was closer, I could see two bare feet, pale and filthy, shooting up from the ground. My eyes widened.

It was him, though I could only see from his knees down. His two rotten calves stood out of the grass like trunks. The toes splayed out and gave off a deathly stench. It all resembled some sort of bluish, alien plant life. My heart raced and I backed away, tripping as I stepped one foot into a hole behind me.

Falling to the ground, my face met the grass with a violent thud. I inhaled, dusty particles entering my lungs. My heart slowed and my mind calmed. I laid there for a while, entranced. 

I finally got up when I felt something cold spraying onto my back. 

It was the sprinklers. 

It was now morning. 

The light pierced my tired eyes and stung them badly. I stood up and groggily left. I was barely able to drive home without falling asleep at the wheel. 

When I walked inside, both of my roommates were at the dining table, eating breakfast.

I sat down with them.

“You look like shit, man,” Kurt said, looking at me.

Jason glanced over at him. “You’re one to speak, you look sick yourself.”

Kurt gritted his teeth and he fiddled with his spoon between his fingers.

The nails were dark with dirt trapped beneath.