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Staring down at his vague reflection, the water seemed endlessly deep in the night, like he was stood on top of a thin column, stretching to the sky, with thousands of feet beneath him. The water fell away and he vomited, a light wine soaked liquid. He steadied himself, and raised a foot uneasily to walk forward.


A mass, thick as his arm rolled over five feet to his left. Jack froze. The thing, worm like again, slipped back under the water and he watched as it moved away, snaking gently in the shallow water.


There he stood, his thumb throbbing with one foot raised like he was doing a weird jig at midnight. Blinking, he set his foot down, trying to think. Looking down again to steady himself, he saw in horror hundreds of the tiny worms gathering around his boots. He watched in disbelief and was stupidly reminded of his last holiday in Corfu. He had tried his hand at fishing and with only a thin long strip of bamboo, with bread stuck through a hook, he had sat on an outcrop, thirty feet into the sea, pulling the line back and forth. Tiny fish, minnow like, had devoured the chunk of bread and ignored the hook. He had cast all day and only had a sore neck and no fish for his trouble. The nail worms tried to find purchase on his boot, biting uselessly on the rubber. Breathing slowly and controlling his fear, Jack remained still until they lost interest and slowly dispersed.


He thought of Rachel and was afraid. His senses reeled. Calmly, he reasoned, the day would be able to explain this. It must be able to, he thought, because he was a reasonable man. He had a child on the way and a myriad of


responsibilities to consider. No doubt sober he would not even be


wandering through the flood plain at night. But what are these things? Ring worms from all the cow pats floating around? Jack tried to focus, the recent sickness making his eyes hot. The flood plain was a gentle rippling expanse. Sometimes, bubbles broke the service, some nearer than others. And crescents of movement passed silently by. His thumb ached, the vomiting had cleared his head and the path, up some steps, was a mere hundred yards in front of him. He took a step forward, aiming to walk out of there, sleep it off and maybe investigate in the morning. He staggered through the water, clumsily.


A mouth, for it must be that, Jack thought, calmly, stunned to accept the logic before the terror, because it has teeth, mouths have teeth. It burst out of the water and clamped down on his shin. He screamed and punched at it with both fists. The worm rasped and darted away, folding under the water and disappearing.


Fear struck him immobile. His breath came in heavy plunges. He was totally sober now and terrified, confusion clogging his reason. He watched wide eyed as several large worms broke the waters around him, surrounding him, aware of him. He quelled a sudden urge to flee, the path was only a hundred yards away but his shin throbbed and he couldn’t be certain of the extent to which he was injured. They would be upon him surely. He stood, only his eyes and his lungs and his heart, moving.


21


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