Wurm

After an impulsive root canal on my right, top, second-furthest-back molar and a sensational Thai lunch, a silent cloud took it upon itself to join forces and create a single entity; the likes of which had never been fully dreamed of. Defiantly, it scrabbled on it’s tiny specks of cloud-feet up and over the dead trees which rose out of the swamp like twisted, broken fingers. That wurm defeated even the sun.

Crawling across the sky, it was clear that this creature’s only foe was time. The indentures and ridges that graces the underside of this beast’s cloudy cumulus carapace were not finely chiseled bits of armored plating, but were scooped out by a soft spoon or a flimsy spatula, serving only to decorate. As it scooted along, slender beams of light poked holes in its soft shell, and the creature writhed about in the sky as though it was under attack; however, it soon calmed down and let those beams of light become massive, glowing legs, serving only to propel it further across the earth.

Frightened by this visage, I sped on toward the squat, gray building, and hurried inside. As far as I can tell, it is still there, looming, brooding…