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MAG 166 - The Worms
The Magnus Archives
The Light of Sam's Scream
Sam's pale mottled worm flesh pressed and squeezed its way ever forward ever upwards or so he hoped so he begged. The light was there it was always there so small and far it might have been a single pin prick in a pitch black curtain just enough to remind him he had eyes starved and hollow. He would call then desperately imploring the very thing that reveled in his suffering to end it. His scream though short echoes up and through the rough-fume tunnel joined as it rises with the cries of a hundred others erupting from the holes that pock mark the rotten field. Well, conclusion is obvious. Worms don't get to see the sky if he had slept
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