A Worm And A Wet Place

It’s the beginning of a story — perhaps?

I wrote part of this piece years ago as a horror/sci-fi flash fiction piece. I’ve added to it and wondered if it might make a good start for a longer story. It’s titled The Dark Scent of Rain. Have a read of this first draft and let me know what you think! And it’s okay if you don’t like it. That’s what I’m here to find out!

The Dark Scent of Rain

The storm had passed and Caitlyn was running for her life. Her lungs burned as she slipped in the muddy broth coating the dirt road and stumbled over the soft mounds of dirt pushed up everywhere. The susurrus of a humid breeze brought with it the petrichor emanating from the surrounding fields telling her it might already be too late. She was too far from the shelter, too far from help, and she was alone. She grew maudlin, vexed by the specious claims the scientists had made; the giant worms of Altusia would burrow into the soil, rejuvenating it, and return the Earth to the agricultural paradise it once was. And indeed, they did. But like the mosquitoes hovering around her as she stopped to catch her breath, they came out to mate only when it was moist and, to fulfill their destiny, they needed blood.

Desperate for a way to save herself, she racked her brain for a path of escape — or means to fight back. There were little available to use as a weapon. The surrounding landscape was either cropland or uncultivated areas covered with grassy tufts. Both could hide an approaching Altusian worm within their verdant foliage. Not even a decent fallen branch was available to swing at an attacking beast. As her breathing eased, she heard the answer; in the distance, waves crashed against the shore.

The ocean echoed faintly in her ears even if she couldn’t see it. A salty ocean, to be precise. Earthworms avoided salt as it pulled the fluid from their slimy bodies via osmosis. She also heard a rustle of movement through the scrub. Whatever she was going to do, she would have to decide quickly.

Caitlyn knew the general direction of the ocean, but the dirt road ran parallel to the shore, not towards it. Though going across the rough grasslands would be slower and more dangerous, there was little choice. The slithering sounds nearby seconded that opinion.

There was no way to run through the tough grass. Each footstep had to be placed precisely — and quickly. Breaking a leg in a wormhole would be certain death whether the worms found her or not. And they could sense the vibrations from each footfall, so stopping to rest was not advisable. The coarse blades scraped her arms and legs, but each step brought her closer to the saltiness that would protect her. As she continued, the soil became sandier. Fewer mounds were in her path.

There was only a short beach once she reached the water. She fell onto the sand, gasping. A movement caught out of the corner of her eye got her attention. The squirming, tubular creature had followed her and was testing its tolerance to the briny sand. It seemed the lust for blood was more important than survival.

Caitlyn trudged into a shallow area of water, standing until a wave knocked her down. The worm somehow knew where she was, and tried to reach her. The foamy spray kept it at bay. Still, she moved deeper into the ocean. The worm wiggled and twisted for several minutes before deciding the salty water was too much. It writhed up and over the low dune, returning to more hospitable surroundings.

The position of the sun indicated it was past midday. With the storm over, the rays were peeking through the remaining clouds. If the temperature kept rising, all the worms would disappear underground. If that happened, she could make her way down the beach to a spot closer to the shelter. She would have a better chance to safely cross the fields there. For now, she stood in the water with only her head and shoulders dry, the cold waves pushing her back and forth as she tried to regain her strength and focus.

A plan had been formulated, but it was all getting too complicated. She didn’t want to wait too long before moving. There were sharks in the waters here. And a horde of hungry crabs, too. Whether they were exactly where she was might remain a mystery until it was too late. There were a lot of ‘ifs’ on which her life depended. She laughed nervously as her weary mind recalled, and twisted, the old idiom; she was, it seemed, between a worm and a wet place.

* * *

Update: As promised, here’s the link to Part II! Trouble Comes In Threes