Worm Skitter Novels & Stories

“Does the chirping scare you?” Abby looked at him as if he was daft. “Why would that scare me?” “I just thought that since you were afraid—” “Afraid of them jumping on me. When I was eleven—on the farm in Botswana—I played in the shade of the front steps on a warm summer’s day. A giant cricket jumped down the back of my shirt and it wasn’t just any cricket, it was an Armored Bush Cricket that’s native to Southern Africa and is common in Botswana. It has sharp spines and thick armor and I couldn’t reach it as it fought for its life, like a thorny branch shoved down my back. Once it was caught in my hair and scrambled up against my neck, I was a goner, screaming and screaming for help. Everyon

That happened and it’s in the past, you know? Chill, man, Skippy with the fucked up blond hair said. Cool dude. Gayer than Christmas, but cool. Always fuckin’ with his hair and shit. Whatever. Just chill. Fuckin’ shit was fucked up. He brought his knees to his chest. His guts were moving. Jumping and turning. Reaching and wiggling. Bumping into each other and getting all tangled up in knots. Even pushing against his skin. Like he could put his hand on his stomach and feel ‘em slithering. But there was no fucking way he was going to push on his skin. Fucker could break and split open and, oh hell no, no way.