Worms by Tyler Grant

Tyler is this month’s winner of $437.50 for his story about body image and creeping horror. “Worms” is a reminder that not all monsters are supernatural.

This story does get graphic.

Bio: Tyler Grant is the author of dozens of comedy, suspense, and horror stories, including "Quarantine Fever", which was a top ten best free seller on the Amazon Sales Pages. You can find "The Night Locker" on audible, and his young adult series, "The Atlas Martin Mysteries" available online at Amazon.com. For updates regarding future work, check out www.tylergrantbooks.com, or follow his facebook page www.facebook.com/tylergrantbooks.

Without further ado, “Worms” by Tyler Grant.

Worms… There’re so many different kinds: threadworms, roundworms, whipworms, and hookworms, just to name a few. Often, people carry these little parasites for years without even knowing they’re inside them. But they are. And they’re feeding off of us. If enlightened, you might say that’s normal, that there’s medicine for them, a cure to ease the suffering and discomfort. But there’s something you don’t know. In fact, quite a lot you don’t know. Some worms are magical. Not magical like in Disney fairytales. More like Grimm fairytales. Evil, dark, untamed magic. This is a cautionary tale. Don’t dismiss the inkling, or prickle of hair rising on the back of your neck next time you feel something isn’t quite right. You were given instincts for a reason. In the meantime, sit tight, wait for the bite. If you know it’s coming, you might feel it nibble. You might have just enough time to do something about it before it’s too late.

#

For Emma, it all began at a carnival with a caramel-covered apple. She was on a rare date with her husband, a night out away from their daughter who was at home with G-Ma. After a couple of sodas, overpriced hotdogs, and a game of Shoot the Ducks!, Emma had a tough decision to face. Should she invest her night’s last indulgence in an elephant ear? Or should she take the apple of her youth? She’d always loved caramel-covered apples this time of year. Her mother used to take her to these sorts of attractions, and they’d each order an apple, ride the rides, and pet the animals. For nostalgia’s sake, Emma was leaning toward the apple now, but anyone who’s ever heard a fairytale should know that an apple can never be taken lightly.

            Sadly, Emma did not believe in fairytales. Emma believed in sugary treats.

            She asked Mark to find a bench while she stood in line. He declined an apple, of course, claiming that he was watching his ‘girlish figure’— a simple joke that still bothered her. Mark was in decent shape, handsome in a natural way, and over the years since Kris was born, had become bitter about the weight she’d never shed. As Emma was turning away, he grumbled under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear, “Someone’s got to watch their weight in this house.”

            Emma weighed more than three hundred pounds wearing only underwear. She knew she should take better care of herself, not eat so much junk food, but that apple… it looked so good.

            She blamed her mother, who had also enjoyed a sugary appetite.

            I’ll start a diet tomorrow, she lied to herself as she had so many times before.

            She would miss the sweets, but Emma was a girl who liked her protein. She could invest as much in a steak as a cake.

            When it was her turn to order, the man behind the window of the trolley made her wait while he disappeared into a closet and rustled in banging fashion in search of something.

            “What can I get you?” he wheezed, reappearing in the frame of the window, his face creased from age.

            “I’d like a caramel apple.”

            The man turned his face to the side, looking at her with one— perhaps his good eye. He replied, “I’ve got just one left.”

            Emma’s stomach tightened, mouth starting to water, appreciative of her good fortune.

            “Okay,” she said eagerly and rummaged through her purse looking for cash.

            “Not so sure I should give it to you,” the man said.

            Emma looked up, astonished. “What?”

            The man shook his head, looked away again, and muttered something under his breath.

            Emma’s shoulders were under her ears, her face flushed from embarrassment, believing the man thought she ought not have the apple because of her size. Looking over her shoulder, she spotted Mark sitting at a table, looking pissed off that she was taking so long. She turned back to find that the vendor had returned to the window and was holding the apple out to her.

            “I can get something different,” she said, and hated that she was in such a place of her life that she would sacrifice her dignity to please a total stranger.

            “Your husband wants you to have it,” the vendor said.

            Emma again looked over her shoulder at Mark. He’d started to stand. She thought she better hurry before he came over and raised a scene.

            She looked back at the vendor suspiciously, thinking this was the strangest food order she’d ever placed. She took the apple from the grizzled old man and tried to pass a twenty over the counter. The man retreated, holding up weathered hands.

            “You don’t want my money?”

            He shook his head, said, “No money for that apple. It’s not a good apple. You ought not to have it.”

            Emma looked at the apple, which appeared to be perfect and delicious, and then again at the vendor who could no longer make eye contact.

            “Really, I’m happy to pay,” she said.

            The man raised his chin away from her, closed his eyes, as if he could not bear to see her a moment longer, and said, “I wish you luck.” Then, he closed the shade over his window.

            Slowly, on her heel, Emma turned and waddled back to where Mark was now standing and plopped down in the seat next to him with a huff.

            “You got your apple,” he said.

            Emma twirled the apple on its stick, inspecting it because of the vendor’s strange behavior. It really did appear to be any ordinary candied apple.

            “Aren’t you going to take a bite?” he asked.

            Slowly, Emma raised the apple to her lips, took a bite and chewed, experiencing memories of her childhood as the flavor of the treat took her back in time.

            “Good?”

            She nodded, eyes closed, happily enjoying the sticky caramel. She held the apple out to Mark, offering a sample of this little piece of heaven.

            “Oh, no,” he said, “not for me.”

            Emma shrugged, forgetting the strange encounter with the vendor a moment ago, and took another bite, not noticing the larvae hiding near the apple’s core.

#

Late that evening, Emma kissed her sleeping seven-year-old, Kris, goodnight. When she entered the master bedroom, she found Mark already undressed, tucked safely under the covers of their bed. She knew out of experience that this meant there would be no lovemaking tonight. It didn’t surprise her. They’d only made love once since Christmas, and it was already June. Emma knew her weight had something to do with that, but neither she nor Mark had the guts to confront the issue in conversation.

            Trying to put dark thoughts out of mind, Emma said to him, “I’m going to draw a bath and unwind for the night. My feet are killing me after all that walking.”

            “Yeah,” Mark grunted.

            Emma nodded and disappeared behind the bathroom door.

            While she undressed and started the water, Mark called from his place under the covers, “Hey, Em?”

            “Yeah?” she called back.

            “How are you feeling?”

            She perked up. Was Mark taking an interest in her? Opening the bathroom door, she poked her head out and said, “What do you mean?”

            He shrugged, said, “I was just wondering how you were feeling after eating that apple.”

            Emma felt a pang of hurt in her full gut.

            Mark must have seen it on her face because he quickly said, “I just mean because of all that sugar. Bound to give anyone a tummy ache.”

            Emma said quietly, “I feel fine,” and closed the door.

            She let the water run and sat on the toilet, naked, sobbing for a long time, wondering how she’d let herself fall into such a bad place… wondering if she’d ever get out of it.

#

The following morning, Emma woke with hunger pains like she hadn’t felt in years. She tried to resist her strong desire for food, not wanting to give up on her resolutions for dieting so soon, but her stomach just wouldn’t stop rumbling.

            In the kitchen, she made a tower of pancakes, fried eggs and bacon, poured orange juice for Kris, coffee for her and Mark, and sat down at the table to slather butter, syrup, and ketchup all over her perfect creation.

            Everyone ate quietly at the table. There was seldom talk between Mark and Emma these days. Often, they listened to Kris’s chatter, remarking sometimes on something that was cute, or something funny.

            None of that today.

            Emma finally broke the static, asking Mark, “What are you going to do today?”

            He shrugged.

            “It’s Saturday. Do you have anything fun you want to do?”

            Without looking at her, Mark said, “I might go for a run. Need to burn off this breakfast, you know?”

            Emma lowered her eyes to her plate, put her fork down, and tried to ignore the hunger pains she was still experiencing.

            “A run sounds nice,” she said, quiet as a mouse.

            Mark glanced sideways at her, his mouth full of pancake, said, “You ought to try a walk. Start small, you know? One bite at a time, so to speak.”

            “Mmm,” she said. “I might just do that.”

            Emma got up to clear her plate.

“Where’re you going?” Mark asked.

“I’m not hungry.”

She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard him mutter under his breath, “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

#

Three days later, Emma started sneaking food again. She’d prided herself for years that she no longer needed to sneak snacks throughout the day and night. She thought she’d left that all behind, but Mark’s judgmental tone and sneering looks had recently pushed her over the edge.

            Now she stood alone in the bathroom. She had the house to herself. Kris was at G-Ma’s and Mark was at the bar with buddies from work. He’d been spending quite a bit of time at the bar lately, but Emma tried not to think too much about that, reminding herself that everyone had their challenges.

            Dressed down to her panties and bra, Emma regarded herself in the mirror. She looked thinner, believe it or not. She wasn’t about to complain, but it did seem that with her recent increase in calories, she should not be losing weight. She wondered if it was just a trick of the light, so she stepped on the scale and found to her utter amazement that she was down 18 pounds in just three days, all while sneaking food.

            A feeling of lightness and butterflies took flight in her stomach. Emma stepped off the scale and then back on again, making sure that it wasn’t bugging out. Same result.

            “Must be broken,” she said, and retrieved a second scale from the linen closet.

            Cautiously, guarding against being let down, she stepped on the glass surface. The wind caught in her throat and she tried to contain her excitement, but her thoughts raced, ideas spilling from her brain when she saw that this scale also recognized an eighteen-pound difference since her visit to the fair.

            How? Extra cardio? No. She hadn’t done any walking. And she’d been sneaking food…

            Don’t mess with a good thing, she thought.

            After dressing, she walked back down the stairs toward the kitchen, her stomach rumbling from hunger. She tried to resist the urge to fix another snack, reminding herself that she had eaten lunch just over an hour ago, but the gurgling from her guts wouldn’t let her alone. And, she reminded herself, she was down eighteen pounds.

            She wanted to call Mark and give him the good news but thought that might be a bad idea. Mark wasn’t very supportive, and he’d probably say something nasty. Plus, she might just gain the 18 pounds back if she kept overeating, and then he’d have something new to hold against her. Emma decided to remain quiet on that front and just celebrate this minor miracle with a fresh baked batch of cookies. Yes, that way she could at least fill the cookie jar, claiming to have made the hot gooey treat for Kris.

#

The hunger pains became worse and worse, but Emma continued to lose weight over the next ten days. As the hours spun by, the pounds dropped off. Emma, who just eleven days ago had weighed 309 pounds, now weighed an unreal 199, her skin hanging off of her like a bag.

            She’d received some strange looks when she went grocery shopping and had decided that she’d be better off staying at home whenever possible.

            Mark appeared stunned by her transformation, though when she’d tried to be intimate with him, believing that this lighter her would be more attractive to him, she found that he was repulsed by her baggy skin and stretch marks.

            There was just no way to please the man.

            Emma finished tailoring one of her dresses to fit, which had been quite a trick, and was now looking at her medical card, reading the emergency nurse number over and over, trying to make up her mind on whether or not she should call.

            She was a little worried, after all. Why was she losing so much weight when she’d made no lifestyle changes? There had to be some medical explanation, and though she didn’t want to question what she hoped was good fortune, Emma couldn’t help but wonder if there was something nefarious at work inside her.

            Mark came into the bedroom just as she’d started to punch the nurse’s number into her phone.

            “What are you doing?” he asked.

            “Huh?”

            He gestured to the phone and medical card in her hands.

            “Oh,” she stammered, “I don’t really know. I was thinking about calling a nurse, I guess.”

            “Why?” he asked flatly, no sympathy detectable in his voice.

            “I, uh, I’m just a little worried…”

            “About what?”

            “Well…” Emma spluttered, “I guess I’m wondering why I’m losing all this weight.”

            “Aren’t you happy you’re losing the weight?” Mark said, his tone bitter. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

            Emma thought, It’s what YOU always wanted. And now that it’s happening, you still won’t touch me.

            She said, “I’m not complaining. I just… It’s happening so fast. I think maybe I should see a doctor. Make sure that I’m doing this the right way, you know?”

            “I think that’s a bad idea.”

            “Why?”

            “They’ll put you on pills. Prescribe something addictive. They’re in the pharmaceutical industry, Em. They don’t really have your best interests at heart.”

            “Yeah, but—”

            “Trust me, you’re fine.”

            “But—”

            “No more buts. Give it another week. I’m sure you’ll feel better in a week or so. Let the anxiety pass. The last thing we need is for you to go off on another one of your worry trips. You know where that leads.”

            Slowly, Emma looked down at the phone, the screen dark in sleep mode.

            “Leave it alone, Emma,”

            She nodded, believing that she was making a huge mistake, but afraid of what Mark might do to her if she crossed him.