“Oh gods, I thought it was supposed to be kind of chilly today,” Richie groaned, loosening his tie to let some air into his button-up. Under his jacket, half his shirt was completely drenched in sweat. And he was even seeing things; he could swear there was something moving under his shirt. He tried to grab at it, but there was nothing.

  “Uhm … sir?” Someone stepped up in front of Richie, and the gnome looked up at them surprised. “We found that the structural integrity of the nearby buildings has been compromised. Could we ask you to vacate the area?”

  “Hm?” Richie stared at the person, for some reason taking a while to register what they were saying. They were looking at him with an almost disgusted expression, and Richie awkwardly nodded his head. “Oh … oh yeah, right, for sure …”

  Moving along, he continued walking on the sidewalk. Was it getting hotter? Richie took off his jacket, then folded it over his arms. At the edge of the area that he was supposed to leave, there was a small convenience store. Richie still had plenty of time, so he rushed into the store and headed straight for the fridges. He pulled out one of the chilled bottles of water, then opened it and chugged the contents.

  It didn’t take long until the bottle was empty, and he grabbed the next. It was helping, but it wasn’t even close to enough. The freezers caught his eye, and he quickly grabbed one of the cups of crushed ice, holding it against his forehead. That was much, much better.

  “Yo, dude, be careful,” the pimply teenager behind the counter called out to Richie. “If you bleed on those, you gotta pay for ’em. You need some paper towels?”

  Confused, Richie turned over toward them. “Huh? Bleed? What are you …”

  As he spoke, he started to feel a slight coppery taste in his mouth. Richie put down the cup of ice and touched his finger to his nose, still holding his jacket in his other hand. When he pulled his fingers back, he saw dark red blood on there. Actually, it was a bit too dark for blood: black. Just then, he noticed an almost rotten taste accompanying the blood’s copper, as his stomach began to churn.

  “D-Do you guys have a restroom?”

  The teen slowly nodded his head, pointing to the corner of the store. Quickly, Richie rushed over and stepped into the small single-person restroom. He placed his jacket onto the closed toilet seat, and then stepped up to the mirror.

  The dark blood flowing from his nose only stuck out more on his sickly pale skin. But it wasn’t just the blood; the veins on his neck and forehead were dark and bulging. Along with his heartbeat, they were pulsating. No, they were writhing.

  As if triggered by the realization, a deep, visceral pain coursed through his body, starting from his chest. It was like something had burrowed its way into his body, like dozens of worms digging their way through his veins. Anxiously, Richie pulled open his button-up shirt that had already gone translucent from sweat. Same as on his face and neck, dark veins were bulging all over his chest.

  Before he could even react properly, he felt a stinging in his eye. Glancing back at the mirror, he noticed blood flowing down his cheeks like pained tears.

  “Wh-What the hell is …”

  The sentence was interrupted by an animalistic retching, as if he had bitten into a piece of rotten meat, and maggots were now spreading around and filling his mouth. Though Richie was fighting against it with his whole body, Richie vomited into the sink. It was a black, viscous liquid, like some kind of thick ink. But what was even worse was that it looked like that whole ink was made of disgusting, thin black worms. As he grabbed his cheek, he could feel some of those moving threads still clinging to his cheek.

  Richie lost the strength in his legs and fell down onto the ground. He vomited again, covering the ground in those rotten black threads. They clung to his fingers, trying to climb back up. Pulling back, Richie tried to get back, but the threads were faster than him. Moving along underneath his shirt, dyeing it in a foul black, they climbed back up onto him. Instinctively, Richie knew what was about to happen. The tendrils climbed up his neck and forced their way back inside his throat.

  Richie could feel them force their way down his throat.

  He grabbed at the threads, trying to pull them back out, but when he did, it felt like he was tugging on exposed nerve ends, feeling a disgusting pain that made him shrivel back completely. But not all of the threads were making their way back inside. In general, the dark, inky mass was growing larger, as if the threads were becoming longer and intertwining farther with every second.

  It didn’t take long until they covered the whole ground, and when he glanced at the sink, the parts in there were already climbing up the mirror and walls. Richie watched as the entire small restroom was covered in these threads, as if he was about to be devoured by a black hole.

  And then, when not an iota of light could be seen, everything went silent. The singing pain all over Richie’s body was getting worse and worse.

  The blackness was closing in on him.

  He was scared and exhausted. Richie barely clung to consciousness.

  As his eyes went blank, and the tendrils forced their way into him even if it meant digging their way through his skin and muscles, the blackness won.

  And then, Richie stood back up.

  He pushed himself off the ground, straightening his tie. After checking his face in the mirror a few times, Richie picked up the neatly folded jacket off the toilet seat and put it back on.

  As he practiced his smile, Richie’s eyes glanced down at his chest, and the silver sparrow pin that adorned it.

  He should hurry. At this rate, he would be late for the orientation meeting.

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  About the Author

  Quinn Rivers is the author of the Totally Spiritual series, originally released on Royal Road. When they’re not busy playing or creating indie games, they enjoy reading comics, sewing plushies, building figurines, and tending to their plants. Rivers resides in Cologne, Germany, among many loving friends.

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