By: Tim Law

I dream it has come. Like a worm in the night. Across my covers it crawls, pausing beside my ear. I see it clearly in my peripheral vision, a piece of twine ending in an inky black orb.

"Wake up!" I urge but I am utterly frozen, petrified.

Desperately I will myself free of this nightmare.

The thing squeezes its head through my aural orifice and I wake with a gasp.

I feel the tail brush against my skin and I realize that this is no dream. The nightmare is real. I shall never be the same. I am enslaved.

The End


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