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“I’m fine, you fool,” he shouted. “Fetch me some wine.” The attendant acquiesced. The king looked down and pulled away a cloth swaddling his midsection. A black crater had replaced his stomach. He could smell the spreading necrosis. In the depths, worms writhed, eating him from the inside. He covered himself and sighed.

Worm Food
225
2

Don Franke

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Betsy Denson
Betsy Denson

Written by Betsy Denson

2.5K Followers
1K Following

Always looking for the interesting. Incurably curious. Write a new book in my head once a month. Hopefully one will cross the finish line before I'm 80.

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