Worm God

by Nikolai Petkoff, Connor Fitzgerald

peculiar, solitary worm picker lives by ritual. Each morning he prays to a small homemade shrine with a hand carved worm sculpture at the centre. He prays deeply in whispers, then pulls out a worm from his pocket and offers it up. Only after he has done this he goes to the field of compost bins to collect worms. The worms are healthy and plentiful this day, steadily filling his sack and emptying it into a container.
The next day he kneels to pray again, except this time the candles extinguish without reason. Smoke curls in the dark.
He opens his eyes, his face changes from indifference to deep anger. He gets up with clenched fists and checks the container of dirt where he gives offering of worms. All the worms are dead. He rushes outside and checks the compost bins, mixing the dirt aggressively. All the worms are gone.
Back home, he stares emotionless at the shrine. Something in him snaps and in a sudden fit of rage he swipes everything off the table, smashing jars and perfectly placed candles. He strains and flips the table with tearful eyes. He picks up the sculpture from the wreckage and throws it out the front door.
Later that night, he sits eating at the dinner table. The house feels hallow. The silence presses in. He stabs a carrot with a fork and eats it only to spit out a mouthful of soil. Without prayer his mind seems to loosen from itself. Its unclear whether worm god is punishing him - or the ritual was the only thing holding him together.
As dawn approaches, he is brought close to madness. A quiet but persistent squelching noise is driving him crazy. He drops to his knees and grabs handfuls of soil, rubs it on his face and chest. The worm picker bows with is face in the dirt. The squelching stops.