故事档案

A translucent sheet of worm-vellum, inscribed with a fanatical text. It writhes when touched.

'The children were the first to notice.
A thump thump thump, thundering deep below the sand.
The first worm split the sky like black lightning as it leapt overhead.
Worm by worm, they rose from the desert. Migrating.
Every storm season, we each hope to be chosen. We arrange ourselves in lines across the desert, arms lifted to the sky.
Anyone may enter the maw.
We are all equal under the great worms.'

Ancient words are carved into this living document. They read:

'The worm lord towers above the dusty earth; its flesh becomes the sky.
Our pathetic shells cannot follow, cannot reach its height, cannot reach its depths.
We offer ourselves to the ground.
We beg our sacrifice accepted.'

Ancient words are carved into this living document. They read:

'The dust was choking.
Our eyes reddened and watered.
But the truth was inescapable.
The veins of the Atlas had surfaced.'

Ancient words are carved into this living document. They read:

'Now with every storm we beg to be chosen;
Arms to the sky, faces to the dirt, calling out with all we have!
When heavy raindrops hit the earth, the veins of Atlas answer.
The rapture of our consumption is beyond words.'

Ancient words are carved into this living document. They read:

'We tumble as it swallows, but grip the slick walls as best we can -
Oh! - to reach the gizzard still awake.
Breathe it deeply! How our lungs gurgle!
The slime clogs our noses and stings our eyes,
though in this warm darkness, we are already blind.'

Ancient words are carved into this living document. They read:

'Curse the agony of regurgitation,
Curse this this feeble flesh that still confines me!
My brethren were reborn, rising from the blessed dust as fresh tendrils.
Glistening capillaries to the great veins, slithering away into the sand.
I will be patient. Until the next storm.'