They seemed to ignore him after a while. The nail-like worms simply congregated around the patters of blood that dropped into the water.


It was the larger creatures Jack was concerned about.


Sometimes, one would come closer, maybe sensing him, tasting the blood in the water like a shark. Jack’s hands had closed around his pen, ready to stab at them, to batter them off. But mostly they circled idly and even the smaller worms eventually lost interest again. All was still. Time passed, but how long, Jack didn’t know. It seemed hours and maybe it was. He had stood perfectly still, his feet numb, trying to figure a way to the path and freedom. The worms were not visible but bubbles and ripples indicated their presence. Once, he had raised his foot and then slowly lowered it achingly. It sent ripples circling outwards lazily. Immediately, large pointed crescents broke the surface and moved towards him, only breaking off when the ripple finally dissipated. They were attracted then, by movement, a distraction. Jack rooted in his pockets and found a few coins. He flipped a shining fifty pence, ten feet into the gloom. A worm, huge, lifted from the water in front of him, its head twice the size of his previous attacker.


It yawned its mouth open and Jack saw rows of teeth like black


needles, caked in thick mud. Uninterested it fell back down and moved off, past him. It was at least fifteen feet long and as thick as Jacks body. It had been there all along and so close to him! It moved towards the broken river and the stench it had left was like a death.


Time passed. It started to rain and that was when he was most afraid. The rain peppered the water and he could not tell which was the movement of the creatures or the fall of the rain. Thankfully it ceased in time. Jack shivered. But then, his heart lifted with a sudden joy. The lonely twitter of a morning bird. Morning! More than anything he was certain that the breaking day would be his saviour, that these things would retreat at daybreak, like all the things of the night and the darkness. All he had to do was hang on. Here and there, the worms moved and he threw more change to confuse them and partly for his own luck.


The sun began to rise. Jack began to discern more in the grey light. To his horror, he saw hundreds, maybe thousands, swarming for hundreds of feet, the backs of them breaking the water, rolling on each other. The stench was thick and he saw they were attacking each other, ripping each other to pieces, the finals throes of a hunter’s night, desperate to feed.


The river, he thought, the mud. It was more ancient and deep than anyone knew; what if the deluge had released them, saturating the banks and letting loose these creatures? He gagged at


thought, but it pressed on him with such force. He turned his head and looked at the vast water, with the wide twisting river beneath. The ancient mud had housed them and the rain had set them free, but how long before they found him again and took him under the flood, back to the dark trappings of their origin? The sun continued its ascent and Jack thought, now or never.


His feet were numb; his legs no doubt would be stiff to his will. He watched as ripples moved closer, the stench filling the morning air. He ran.


Si o 22 mn Mognra the


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