Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Soldier of Slime

As I was walking home in the dark after my Tuesday night class I was besieged by a legion of most malevolent façade, by this I mean an extraordinarily large number of worms. Copious masses of worms.
Sinister, slippery, slimy, spineless worms. They were ubiquitously abundant. The reason for their rather substantial presence might have had something to do with the recent large amount of rain. It had been raining for most of the day and the downpour had only just ceased.

As I left the relative security of the university building I began to walk with an inconstant and agitated motion. I put great effort, care, and thought into the placement of each step so as to thoroughly avoid the acquaintance of the worms. This became increasingly difficult each time I was forced to pass through a section of the sidewalk in which streetlamps were not to be found, or if they were it was exceedingly rare. Whenever I was forced to pass through such an ill-lit and murky sector I felt a spine-tingling thrill and a nauseating chill at the thought of the grotesque horror that should result if I were to accidentally step on one of the squirming, writhing, slithering things.

Thanks in large part to my perhaps superfluous diligence, I arrived at my place of temporary dwelling none the worse for wear, having managed to completely evade each and every one of the invertebrate throng.

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