Waking on Stony Ground
The heaviness of sleep slowly slides away, leaving blackness sitting on my open eyes. Thoughts slip in and out of view in my foggy mind. Why am I awake?
I feel a pinch on my arm, then one on my leg, and another on my stomach. I slap at the sensation. A cold, cylindrical form undulates under my fingers, and bites again. One slithers into my mouth. I grab the worm's tail, but the beast pushes itself toward my throat anyway, alternately shoving with sharp legs and grasping with pointed pincers. The creature stretches impossibly far, creeping down into my stomach despite my hold on it. One final bite fills my body with unquenchable flames.
Writhing on the ground, I wonder what I have done to deserve this place where the worm never dies. And if I'm here, who else is?