David was in his late twenties,tall, wellbuilt, and to any casual observer, a man whose life seemed perfectly in order. But inside… inside, there echoed a silence that had lingered for years. Shadows of the past still clung to the corners of his mind, sometimes surfacing like ghosts in the dark.He lived a quiet, structured life as an accountant. His office, the stacks of files, the endless columns of numbers all of it felt like a labyrinth he had built to outrun something far older than memory.
That evening, as the clock neared six, David shut down his computer, grabbed his coat, and left the office. He descended the stairs slowly, lost in thought. Outside, a cold gust of wind brushed his face, making him shiver slightly, but he kept walking. As always, he made his way to the bus station, drifting through the crowd like a phantom. Once there, he pulled out his earbuds but didn't play any music. He just wore them. To be alone in a crowd. David knew that feeling well. His eyes wandered over the faces waiting around him. Everyone seemed caught in a rush to be somewhere. Everyone but him. Time, for David, had stopped.One thought kept circling in his mind: Clara.The woman from work.The one who had asked him out.He had turned her down. But why?
"I was stupid," he muttered to himself. "I wanted her. I really… wanted her."
The memory played againClara walking toward him, her voice full of nervous hope, her eyes bright. His answer had been cold, sharp, rehearsed. He could still see the tremble in her lips, the way her face fell. The way her footsteps faded as she walked away. The bus arrived. He stepped in with the crowd and took a seat by the window. The city passed by in blurs of light and steel. Buildings, signs, headlights all smearing into shadow behind the glass. Then something strange happened.The bus stopped at a station he didn't recognize. Not on the map. Not anywhere.It was cloaked in fog, its sign half-faded, the world around it sunken in greyscale. David leaned forward, squinting out the window.
And then he saw it…
A massive worm, crawling across the platform thick, grey, and slick with an otherworldly sheen. Its segmented body twisted toward the bus with unnatural grace, and with every movement, a crackling sound filled the air. At the front of its head, glistening, twitching teeth spread wide.It stopped just outside the window, and David swore it was looking right at him. Then, it lunged slamming into the glass as though it would break through. David tried to scream.But no sound came.
And then he woke up.His body was soaked in sweat. His chest heaved. His ears rang with the sound of his own heartbeat. The ceiling stared back at him in silence. He took a deep breath. The dream had felt so real, so close. For a moment, he wasn't sure he had really woken up.
***
The next morning, David went to work. Clara approached him, her voice soft, wanting to speak. But David… David had withdrawn. Cold. Reserved. His answers were short. He didn't meet her eyes. She looked confused, then hurt. But she said nothing more.
That evening, David boarded the bus again. Same time. Same seat. Same direction. He placed his hands on his knees and stared out the window. The city passed by like it always did, but now it looked even more distant. The lights were nothing more than fading echoes.
As the bus neared that strange stop again, David felt his heartbeat quicken. He glanced out. But this time nothing. No fog. No strange signs. Everything looked… ordinary. Painfully ordinary.
Maybe it really was just a dream, he thought.
He leaned his head against the glass and closed his eyes.
Then…
A coldness traced the back of his neck. A drop of sweat? No. It felt different.Something wet. And slow. Before he could turn around, something slick brushed his shoulder. Something alive. Something breathing but not like anything human. The breath felt like it had crawled up from the depths of the earth itself. David froze. His eyes widened. Behind him, the creature rose.That worm. No eyes. No voice. Just presence.
It towered behind him, a dark, glistening mouth slowly lowering toward his head. Everything warped time, sound, even thought. David wanted to scream, to move. But he couldn't. The worm lunged its jaws closed around his skull. Darkness. Thick, suffocating blackness. David was falling no, being dragged. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He felt himself pulled through something sticky and endless. He tried to struggle, but there was no escape. Only echo. Only silence. Then, suddenly he hit something. The edge of a seat? The floor? He opened his eyes.
He was still on the bus. People were staring at him. He was on the ground, gasping. His clothes clung to his skin, soaked in sweat. No one said a word. Just stares. David stood slowly. Didn't say a word. He walked off the bus.
***
That night, he thought of Clara. And eventually, exhaustion pulled him into sleep. The next morning dawned grey, the world wrapped in a dull silence. David stepped into the shower, hoping the scalding water would wash the weight off his shoulders. As the pressure pounded his back, he finally started to breathe again. But then he felt it. A sharp, stinging ache behind his ear.Tiny. Subtle. But real.
His fingers brushed the skin. And for just a second,
he was sure something inside him had moved. He lifted his hand, cautiously bringing his fingers to his ear. He felt something deep inside wet, soft, and slick. When he pulled his hand back, a small worm squirmed in his palm. Its thin, pale body writhed with a damp, gurgling hiss. David recoiled with a cry. He flung the creature away and yanked the shower curtain aside in a panic, his wet feet nearly slipping on the slick floor. His eyes swept across the tiles, frantic. But there was nothing. No trace. No movement. The worm... was gone. His heart pounded wildly. He scanned every corner of the bathroom the towel rack, behind the sink, down the drain. Nothing. Only the fog on the mirror, breathing in time with his own.
The silence that wrapped around him, despite the running water, was suffocating. He braced himself against the wall, breathing hard, frozen for a moment. Then he turned toward the mirror. His reflection, veiled in steam, stared back like a stranger. In his eyes, something was growing. Dark rings had formed beneath them. His gaze looked tired and... something else. Something he couldn't quite name.
He took a deep breath. Without looking away from the mirror, he snatched his towel, dried off quickly, dressed, and stepped outside. That morning, as he headed to work, only one thought echoed in his mind: This... was no longer just a dream.
***
Around noon, Clara approached his desk. A faint smile touched her lips, and her eyes held a hesitant glimmer. She had been worried about David for days, but hadn't dared to break the silence.
"David… is everything okay?" she asked, her voice soft and fragile.
David didn't look up at first. He stared blankly at his screen for a few long moments. Then, suddenly, he turned to her. His eyes were cold, sharp almost unfamiliar.
"Clara… please. Go," he said, his voice unexpectedly harsh.
She stepped back, startled. But then, as if wanting to say something more, she took a step forward. David grabbed her arm roughly. His fingers dug into her slender wrist.
"I said… go!"
Clara's eyes welled with tears. Her lips trembled, and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Silently, she turned and walked away, her steps quick, almost running. The silence that followed in the office felt heavier than ever. Everyone had seen. The people at their desks, those walking out of meetings, even someone in the kitchenette with a half-poured cup of coffee all eyes were on David. But David didn't care. He sat back down, turned to his screen. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, unmoving. He just stared.His gaze drifted into the empty space Clara had left behind. But in his mind… a different darkness was taking root.
***
Evening fell. City lights spilled over the streets. The streetlamps gazed downward with weary eyes. David walked the same path, at the same time, to the metrobus station. But tonight was different. He was tense. Alert. His eyes kept scanning the surroundings. His breath was shallow, uneven. When he sat by the window, his hands were trembling.One by one, the stops passed. He didn't look away from the glass for a second. The reflections on his face were pale, faded.
And then… it appeared again.
That sign, rising from the mist, illuminated by a sickly, dim glow... David bolted upright. His eyes widened. He began to shout:
"Look outside! There's a giant wor—"
But his sentence caught in his throat. His gaze shifted to the seat beside him. Clara was there. She wore a simple coat. Her face bore a complex expression—not quite anger, not quite sympathy. Just... searching.
"David," she whispered. "Why are you doing this? Why are you treating me like this?"
David's eyes were still fixed on the window. There was nothing outside. No worm. No mist. Not even that cursed stop. Everything was normal. Dull. Chokingly ordinary.
"I… don't want to, Clara," he said, his voice low and weary.
"Don't want what? Me?"
He turned to her. In his eyes, there was a void opening like a wound into something long buried.
"Not you. Myself…" he whispered.
Clara lowered her head, trying to understand the meaning behind those words.
"Sometimes," David continued, "you want something… but if you take it, something irreversible happens. The darkness inside you it spreads. It stains. And before you know it… it becomes you."
Clara's eyes widened.
"David… what happened to you in the past?"
David didn't answer. He simply closed his eyes. For a moment, it was as if he wasn't even breathing.
"My father… wasn't a good man," he said at last. "And sometimes, Clara… when I look in the mirror… I see his eyes staring back."
Clara opened her mouth to speak, but the words felt too small.
The metrobus kept rolling on. Life passed by on the other side of the glass, but inside, the past and future of two people sat quietly side by side.
Clara gently reached out and touched David's hand.
"That's not who you are," she said.
David lowered his head. It was as if it wasn't tears falling from his eyes, but an old, buried weight slipping to the floor. Yet the bus kept moving forward. And with every stop, the darkness crept a little closer. Suddenly, David stood up, as if trying to escape Clara's gaze. "I have to go," he said in a hushed tone, avoiding eye contact. He tried to walk away quickly, but Clara instinctively reached out to grab his hand.David flinched and pulled back. "Don't…" he whispered. And in that moment… Clara's body began to tremble. First her lips twitched, then her eyes grew unnaturally wide. She looked as if she couldn't stay upright.
"Clara?" David asked, turning back, alarmed.
Her arms and legs began to twist and stretch unnaturally. Her bones cracked as they bent and reshaped, and guttural, inhuman sounds came from her throat. Her skin had gone pale; her eyes were now two bottomless voids.
David stood frozen, unable to move. Stunned.
"Help! Somebody help!" he shouted to the others. The bus was crowded people standing, sitting but no one turned. No one reacted. His breath quickened. In a panic, he reached out to touch someone's shoulder but his hand passed right through them.
"No… no! This is a dream! This is just a nightmare!" he screamed. His voice echoed around him. He dropped to his knees, terror and helplessness closing in like a vise. Clara was no longer even remotely human. Her body had twisted grotesquely. Her face looked like a melting mask.
And then…
The darkness inside the bus tore open. A crack split the floor and ceiling as if something had broken reality. A foul, rotting cold crept up from the depths.
The worm.
Huge, gray, and rising from the back of the bus. Its teeth clattered with a wet hiss, its skin oozing with sticky slime.
David couldn't move. He crouched low, hands over his head.
The worm glided toward him slowly then, in one sudden lunge, swallowed him whole. When David opened his eyes, he was inside a narrow tunnel lined with slick, fleshy walls. Breathing was difficult. Movement almost impossible. His body felt heavy, sinking into itself.
"Let me go!" he screamed. But his voice echoed inside the creature and was swallowed by it.
He looked around. No movement. No hope. Then… he noticed something in his right hand. The cold bite of metal. A knife. He didn't know where it had come from. But it was there. Gritting his teeth, he gripped the handle and plunged it into the worm's inner walls. The first stab made only a thick, dull sound. The second fluid sprayed. On the third the worm groaned. Its insides began to tremble, contracting violently. David screamed and stabbed again. This time, he felt a gap beneath the tissue. Straining with everything he had, he forced his arm out. Then his shoulder. And finally, with a scream, he burst free.
He collapsed to the floor. And suddenly, he noticed dozens of eyes on him. He was back on the bus. People were staring. Covered in sweat, shaking, as if he'd crawled out of a nightmare. His eyes were bloodshot. Every breath felt like his first. Then, without warning, he stood up. He leapt off the bus. His feet hit the pavement unsteadily. The cold night air hit his face like a slap. He grabbed the metal railing of the bus station. At first, his hands trembled. Then… he gripped the bar tightly with sudden fury. The metal bent slightly under the pressure of his fingers. The strength in his hand frightened even him. He looked up. It was night but the darkness wasn't just outside anymore. It was inside.
***
David stood at his desk, completely still. The collar of his shirt was open, his buttons undone. His hair was disheveled, dark circles under his eyes made it seem like he hadn't slept in days. The usual calm on his face had vanished, replaced by a cold, hardened rage. His hands rested on the desk, and he tapped his fingers against the surface in a slow, steady rhythm — each tap marking a passing second.
From across the room, Clara approached cautiously. Moments later, the manager appeared, a deep frown on his face.
"David, are you alright?" Clara asked softly.
David slowly raised his head. His eyes locked onto Clara's, but there was no warmth or understanding in that gaze. Only the sharp, dark stare of a broken man.
The manager stepped closer, clearly unsettled by David's appearance. "You need to pull yourself together, David. This is a workplace"
"Oh? You're giving me advice now?" David said, his voice low but laced with threat.
Suddenly, he sprang from his chair. The corner of the desk went flying as he shoved it aside. He lunged at the manager, hands reaching for his throat, eyes wild with fury.
"You don't know anything! None of you know anything!!" he shouted.
The manager gasped and struggled, choking sounds rising from his throat. Clara and the other employees rushed forward, managing with great effort to pull David away.
Breathing heavily, his hair plastered to his forehead, pupils dilated, David was dragged out into the hallway. Behind him, silence fell over the office like a heavy fog.
He came back to the bus station again. David shot upright from where he sat. His eyes no longer held anger only obsession. He looked out the window. The stop… that stop… same place. Everything was just as it had been. The sign was barely visible now, as if it were fading out of existence.
"Where are you!!!" he roared.
The bus was silent, but not in a natural way. The usual hum of conversation, the murmur of music, the clatter of life gone, like sound had been vacuumed from the air.
"Show yourself!! Wherever you are, show yourself! I've been waiting for you all day!"
He stood, staggering, bumping into the people around him. No one looked. No one responded.
David's breath quickened again.
He moved toward the back of the bus. With every step, the people around him blurred, faded as if their presence was dissolving.
Then he saw him.
A man in a gray coat, head bowed, completely still.
David's feet locked in place. His eyes widened in disbelief.
It was you… wasn't it? he whispered to himself.
The man didn't lift his head.
David's breath turned into a shaky rasp, laced with fury. His fists clenched tight.
Then suddenly, without thinking… he threw a punch with all his strength right into the man's face.
The man staggered backward, then fell to the floor of the bus.
David paused for a moment. He looked around. Everyone stood still, motionless. No one turned to look. No one moved.
Breathless and trembling, David tried to touch someone's shoulder again. His hand passed right through.
His eyes widened. His breath caught in his throat.
"This… is a nightmare… I have to wake up!" he shouted.
He dropped to his knees, holding his head in his hands. He clenched his teeth.
And at that moment…
A darkness began to seep from the back door of the bus. An unseen but palpable, dense and sticky presence.
The worm…
It was crawling toward David. Its body emitted muffled sounds, and every curve echoed like rusted metal.
David remained crouched, neither running nor shouting.
The worm extended its huge head toward him. Then… suddenly swallowed him whole.
Inside the Worm
Pitch-black emptiness. Sticky, warm like a grave.
David opened his eyes. He felt like he was suffocating. He tried to move, but his arms wouldn't obey.
"No… no, this isn't it!"
He shouted. But his voice echoed hollowly. It was swallowed inside.
Then he noticed something. In his hand… a knife.
Without hesitation, he stabbed the knife into the worm's inner wall. A scream echoed as if the universe itself screamed.
One more strike. The worm's skin cracked.
He thrust out an arm. Then forced his body out, struggling… and threw himself outside.
David fell, now outside. Outside, back to reality… or at least what he thought was reality.
Everyone around was staring at him. His eyes still dilated with the worm's darkness. He took deep, trembling breaths.
David held the railing tightly. His fingers whitened from the pressure. He breathed deeply. Sweat dripped from his forehead as his chest rose and fell. His eyes fixed on a point, but what he saw was no longer the outside world.
A voice echoed in his mind.
"Mother…"
At that moment, time cracked.
He was back years ago, in that dark kitchen.
David was ten years old. His small body crouched behind the door, hands covering his mouth, trembling and crying. The shouting and muffled blows from the kitchen bounced off the walls and returned to him.
His mother's voice trembled:
"Enough! Please don't…"
The man's voice was deeper, angrier:
"Shut up, woman! Don't drive me crazy!"
Peeking through the door crack, he saw his mother leaning against the counter, fear shining in her eyes. The man stepped closer and angrily swung his fist.
The woman staggered back, hitting her head on the edge of the table. There was a sharp sound. Then silence.
David's heart pounded as if it would burst out of his chest. Tears dripped from his chin. Trembling, he entered the kitchen. His father's back was turned to him. He seemed to be trying to understand what had happened, running a hand through his hair.
David grabbed something from the counter. A knife. His hands trembled, but his eyes were determined.
Without saying a word, he approached from behind. He stabbed the knife right under his father's heart.
The man's scream echoed throughout the house. His feet lifted off the ground, then he collapsed onto his knees. His eyes looked at his son in shock. His lips moved, but no words came out.
David immediately ran to his mother.
"Mom… mom?"
Her eyes were open but empty. She wasn't breathing.
"Mom… please... wake up…"
David's voice cracked. He held her hand, pressed his face against hers. But she didn't move.
After a while, he was seen sitting in the living room. His small hands were still bloody. His pajamas stained with blood. His eyes stared blankly at a spot.
In the background, footsteps, whispered radio chatter, voices of emergency crews were heard.
A policeman quietly said to another:
"Mother and father… both dead."
David still didn't speak. His lips pressed tightly together, his eyes filled with a weary silence.
Then, like a whisper, a sentence slipped from his lips:
"I didn't want this… I only wanted to protect my mother…"
The past slowly faded.
David's eyes locked onto the man he beated. . Pale skin, sharp gaze, a face etched into his memory years ago: his father.
Time froze. His vision darkened. The ringing in his ears drowned out everything. His heart could no longer fit inside his chest.
His steps quickened. Without saying anything, he punched his father. The man staggered back, nearly falling to the ground. David pounced on him.
Grabbing his collar, he pushed him down and furiously, with the violence of years suppressed, punched his face repeatedly.
"Is this it?!" he shouted.
"Is your face the reason I carried this fear inside me all these years?! What do you want from me?!"
The man's face became more distorted with each blow. But then… something happened.
His face began to crack, his skin stretched. His neck lengthened, bones crackling and breaking. His mouth slowly opened. It widened. His lips were replaced by a slimy structure. A toothless, dark void appeared.
David tried to pull back, but it was too late. His father's mouth stretched toward his head, ready to swallow him.
Instinctively, he grabbed his throat, pressed down, punched again.
"What are you?! What cursed thing are you?! What do you want from me?! Do you enjoy this?! What do you want to watch?! What will you do, kill me?!"
Though his punches weakened, his voice grew stronger.
"Do it then! Come on! Kill me!"
A deep silence fell.
The body on the ground lay motionless now. That ominous being was either completely still or had retreated. There was no gleam left in its eyes.
David, breathless, stood up. Slowly turned around. Headed toward a seat at the back of the bus. He struggled to stand but walked. His shoulders were slumped, his hands covered in blood, and his face was now just an empty void.
"David…"
A soft, feminine voice echoed in his ear. David flinched. His shoulders dropped. He slowly turned his head.
His eyes blurred. His mother was standing there.
A moment of hesitation… he looked at her eyes, hands, facial features. Real… even more than real.
He took a slow step forward. His feet seemed to resist gravity. Then all resistance melted away. He rushed forward and hugged her.
He wrapped his arms tightly around her. Like a moment he had waited for years. Through a choked voice and tears, he murmured:
"Your scent is the same…"
He was crying. Leaning on her shoulder, breathing as if returning to childhood, unwilling to let go of the moment.
The woman, his mother, stroked his hair. There was a bittersweet tenderness in her eyes.
"You must move on with your life, David," she said, calm but deep.
"It's time to leave the past behind."
David raised his head. His eyes were red. His face was drawn with sorrow.
"I can't let go…" he said.
"What if I become him? What if I end up like him?"
His voice trembled. He opened his hands and looked at his trembling fingers.
"I've already changed… long ago…"
His legs gave way. He sank to the ground. His shoulders shook. Tears quietly continued to flow from his eyes.
His mother looked at him sadly. There was love and pain in her eyes. But that gaze slowly began to change. Her limbs twitched. Her fingers lengthened. Her arms stretched. Her neck bent, and her body started to transform.
David raised his head. Tears still in his eyes. He locked eyes with his mother's dissolving silhouette.
"Mom...?"
But no answer came. Instead, a dark chuckle spread.
Her face melted and twisted, and in front of him was no longer his mother. It was the worm. Ominous, huge, rotten-colored, a nightmare spawned from the dark edge of existence.
David tried to stand but couldn't. The worm leaned over him. Its mouth opened, and a hanging, moist limb emerged from inside.
It grabbed David with its claws. His feet lifted off the ground.
He tried to scream, but no sound came out.
The worm pushed its trembling limb toward David's mouth.
David struggled one last time to turn his head but failed. The sticky appendage advanced toward his throat.
And the scene faded into darkness inside his pupils.
The next day had come.
Everyone at the office was busy with their own tasks. The clicking of keyboard keys and the soft hum of the printer filled the space. Clara was sitting at her desk, carefully scanning the documents in front of her.
At that moment, a shadow fell on her desk. At first, she hadn't noticed, but when a faint scent of flowers reached her nose, she looked up. On her desk was a bouquet of wildflowers.
When she turned her head, she saw David standing there.
David was smiling. The area under his eyes still looked tired, but his gaze was calm.
"I'm sorry about your arm," he said.
"What are you doing tonight?"
Clara hesitated for a moment, then smiled gently. When their eyes met, the silence between them spoke more than words ever could.
A deserted metrobus stop appeared. The sky was gray, and everything was shrouded in mist. It felt like the whole world had stopped. The advertisement board at the edge of the stop was broken, its light flickering uncertainly.
Right behind the board, a massive worm stirred. Its presence vibrated with a muffled growl. It had lowered its head, and a faint tremor radiated from its body.
Suddenly, the worm opened its mouth and began to vomit.
Something came out... a small child.
He first tumbled to the ground. Then slowly opened his eyelids.
It was little David. He looked about ten years old. When he opened his eyes, he paused for a moment, then smiled.
"Mommy…" he whispered.
Then he stood up and walked toward the worm without hesitation. He hugged it. Then he took hold of one of the worm's curled limbs.
Together, they began walking toward the escalator at the end of the stop.
A hazy light filtered down from the top of the escalator. Above, vague silhouettes appeared. Smiling faces... silhouettes belonging to Clara, young David, and other unfamiliar yet warmly familiar faces.
They were all waving at them.
Little David paused for a moment, looked back, then squeezed the worm's hand tighter, and they started climbing the stairs.