A couple of days ago my dad took me swimming at Shiner Lake. We hadn’t been there since Mom left when I was ten, and if I’m honest, I was more excited about spending time with him than I was going to the lake for the day. It’s not that the lake wasn’t fun--it was. We swam, cooked out, and I got to check out several hot girls throughout the day. But I’m 16 now, and between my friends and school and my dad’s work, we don’t really see each other much beyond dinner and the occasional football game on Sunday. It was nice to have a full day together.
It sounds sappy, but my dad is a great guy, and growing up he was my best friend. He’s always been smart and patient and kind, even when I didn’t deserve it. That’s why I didn’t understand what was happening. That’s why I didn’t know why he tried to kill me.
It started yesterday morning. I got up and was eating breakfast in the living room, mindlessly flipping between internet videos while I munched on some cereal. When he walked into the room, I could tell something was wrong immediately. He was frowning terribly and wiggling his finger in his ear. At first I thought he might have an ear infection, particularly since he stumbled slightly when I asked if he was okay. But when he raised his eyes to meet mine, I felt scared. It was like he hadn’t realized I was there. No, it was more like he was seeing me for the first time and he didn’t like what he saw.
“What the fuck did you just say to me, you little shitterrrr?” He drawled out the “r” so long I would have thought it was a joke any other time. Instead I got up and started backing away toward the kitchen.
“Nothing, Dad. I was just asking if you were okay. Sorry.” I had hoped me retreating and apologizing would calm him down about whatever this was, but it seemed to make him angrier instead.
“Sorry. Sorry. Fucking sooooorry.” He shook his head twice and slammed the palm of his hand into his ear with a grunt. “You just think you-you’re sorry. Coming at me with that sasssssss mouth.” There was a thin line of drool forming at the corner of his mouth, and a new thought punched through the thick layer of fear that was taking me over. A stroke. He might be having some kind of weird stroke.
The thought distracted me for a second, and that was all it took for him to surge forward and close the distance between us. He grabbed me by the shoulder and slammed the other hand into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me and sending me to the floor. I was so surprised and hurt that I could barely think at all beyond some dim expectation that he would start kicking or stomping me now. But there was none of that.
Instead, he just stood over me, staring. A large, humorless grin stretched his mouth wide, and that thin string of drool yo-yo’d above me before landing on my cheek and sliding into my hair. “Now you’re sorry. Now you know what’ssssss what.”
With that, he turned and walked away, heading back into the direction of his bedroom. I heard the door slam, but I still waited a few seconds before getting up and going outside.
I didn’t know what to do. I could call the cops, but they might either blow me off or take it very serious, and I wasn’t sure if either was what I wanted. I thought about calling the hospital, but my father has clout and money around here, and if he didn’t want to go, they weren’t going to push it unless, again, I elevated it to a cop situation. I wasn’t badly hurt, just scared more than anything, and maybe it was just some weird fluke?
But that was dumb. He had to have something wrong with him. He was sick or something. I ran back inside and got my car keys, and I was getting in the car when I heard him behind me.
“Jack? Where you heading off to so early?”
I turned around and he was smiling confusedly at me, his face so different from the twisted, hateful mask it had been just a few minutes before. He looked like my dad again. I felt a sense of relief flooding through me, but I held it in check. I could still see the glistening saliva at the corner of his mouth, and for all I knew this was some kind of trick.
I got in the car and turned it on, rolling down the window before I answered. “Dad, you just attacked me. You remember that?”
The change in his expression broke my heart. I could tell he didn’t know what I was talking about, but from how I was acting he knew I wasn’t joking around either. He asked me what was going on, coming closer to the car. I asked him to stop, and he did, his face looking even more wounded.
When I told him what had happened, he started crying. He swore to me that he didn’t remember anything. He said that he’d had a bad headache when he went to sleep the night before, but the next thing he remembered was getting up just a minute ago. I asked him if he could have just had some kind of bad dream and sleepwalked or something. He seemed to think it over for a moment and shook his head.
“I’d like to think so, but I’ve never heard of anyone doing anything like that when they were asleep. I need to see a doctor. I’d rather see Dr. Philips--he’s discreet and knows his stuff, but I know he’s out of town until tomorrow with Melanie.” He paused, his eyes sad. “Are you okay with that? Are you okay with me waiting that long? If you don’t feel safe around me I’ll go to the hospital now or I can stay at a hotel overnight and see him tomorrow. You decide what will make you comfortable and that’s what I’ll do.”
I wanted to tell him to go right away, but I knew he was worried about his reputation and work if it got out he was beating his son and not remembering it. And he seemed so much better, I really did hope it was just caused by bad dreams. I told him that I was cool with him waiting and staying in the house, but if we noticed anything else weird, he really had to go on to the hospital right away. He swore he would, and after an awkward silence I turned off the car and we went back inside.
We hung out some in the afternoon watching t.v., but it was painful. I couldn’t help but be afraid of him a little, and I could tell it was eating away at him. That night he made us spaghetti for dinner, and we were in the middle of eating when he stopped mid-sentence and dropped his fork into his lap, noodles and all.
I froze, afraid to ask if he was okay or make any sudden movements. He shook his head twice, his eyes glazed and staring off at something I couldn’t see. His lips started moving, and I could faintly hear him muttering from across the table.
“…pretty, yes…oh I think so…it’s a perfect…thing…” Suddenly his eyes snapped to me, his mouth twisting into a grimace. He put his hands on the table like he was getting ready to either shove it towards me or come over it. So I ran.
I should have run outside, but I was panicked, and I thought if I could make it to my room I’d be safe. He caught me halfway up the stairs, dragging me back by the waist of my jeans as I scrabbled and screamed and begged. This time he didn’t talk or threaten. He punched me twice in the face and started pulling me through the house by my armpits.
At one point, when we were nearly outside, I twisted away and tried to get up. He kicked me in the ribs and I fell back down, curling in on myself like a baby. He was still muttering to himself and smiling a strange smile as he took up his grip under my arms and drug me out to the car, this time dragging me on my belly.
That’s when I first saw it. Out of the right leg of his shorts, trailing down to the back of his knee and curling there, was a thin brown strand of…something. It almost looked like a single long, very thick hair, but that wasn’t right either. Even though my mouth was aching from being hit and my lips were starting to swell up, I still managed to let out a scream when it twitched twice and uncurled a little just inches from my face. That got me another, heavier hit, and after that I saw nothing but darkness.
When I woke up, I was being held underwater. My first thought was that my father was going to drown me, maybe in our own pool, and I started reaching back desperately, trying to claw at him. But his hand was on the back of my neck and his knee was bearing down between my shoulder blades. I tried pushing down into the sodden muck of the water I was in, but it was no use. A deep part of my brain was still screaming at me to fight, but I knew it was no use.
Then I was being pulled back up. Not by rescuers, but by my father. He had the same insane glare as before, but at least he wasn’t hitting me anymore. Instead he drug me silently back to the car and shoved me roughly into the trunk. I went willingly, knowing I had no real choice and terrified that whatever was attached to or protruding from his body might touch me.
I’d had a momentary idea that maybe I had imagined it or dreamed it while unconscious, but in the brief time between the water and the trunk, I managed to see he had taken me all the way to Shiner Lake and that the thing twitching restlessly against his leg was all too real.
Two hours later and I was out of the trunk. We were back at the house and he pushed me inside and up to my bedroom. I happily shut the door and locked it when I got inside, thinking I had finally managed to get some small window of safety. He didn’t say anything or beat on the door, but instead went back downstairs. I started searching my pockets for my phone, but it wasn’t on me. I grabbed my laptop to try and send a message out from it, but the internet was down.
By then my dad was back at the door. I heard loud thudding, and at first I was afraid he was trying to break down the door. Then I realized he was hammering in nails. He was sealing me in. I wasn’t sure what to do. I was afraid he might try to burn the house down with me in it, but it was also possible he was shutting me up in here to try and protect me from himself. The only window in my room looked down to a straight drop onto the concrete patio around the pool. It was doable if I smelled smoke, but I would probably break something in the process.
I was still weighing my options when I realized he had stopped hammering and seemingly gone away. I went to the window to gauge the drop again when I saw my dad walking out onto the patio. He was walking stiff-legged, dragging his right leg as he went and shaking his head more and more. I saw that long dark tendril twisting this way and that as it wrapped itself around his leg and slid down toward his ankle.
He twitched more violently as he reached the edge of the water, turning enough to look at me for a moment. His eyes almost looked sad and familiar, but it was hard to say with the distance and the dark. Then he was in the pool, and in a matter of moments he was bursting apart.
The thing was much larger than what was on the outside. It was some kind of thick, brown worm, and when it touched the water it began thrashing about, ripping my dad apart in the process. Even in the dim exterior house lights, I could see the pool quickly turn from a dark blue to a darker red, and when I saw his chest coming apart underneath his shirt I just closed my eyes and screamed for awhile.
When I opened them, the water was calm again except for at its lower depths. I imagined I could see that long, thin monster swimming around near the bottom. And it looked as though it was coming apart as well. I swear I saw small pieces of it floating away, darker spots of black among the red. But then it was back at the surface, smoothly arching its body over the pool’s edge and sliding into the shadowy hedges beyond.
I have been sitting here for the last hour writing this before I try to go down and find my phone. I don’t know what that thing is, but if it gets me I want there to be some kind of record or warning for others. I don’t know why it didn’t get me the first time we were at the lake, and I hope the second trip doesn’t mean what I think it might. My head is pounding and I’m so scared, but I have
I’m riting this later than now. Then then. I jest woke up. My head hurts so so bad now. I’m out of my room now? I woke up in the living room on the floor. I don’t know how, but I brok the door down I guess. Fuk but my head. It’s itching on the insid. So thirsty.
I can’t find phone, but I got internet going again. I think I was blacked out for a long time. It’s dark again. I can’t figure out what to do, so I looked up giant worms. No luk. I tried paractes. I can’t think right or rite good right noww, so I’m gong to paste it her.
The “horsehair worm” is a threadlike roundworm that derives its nickname from its resemblance to the hair of a horse’s tail. The worm infests the body of an insect such as a grasshopper or beetle, growing fully inside the body. During its development, it affects the brain of the host, altering its behavior and ultimately controlling it so that the host finds its way to water and drowns. The worm, which often has already started protruding from the body prior to killing its host, then frees itself fully and begins its next stage of life.
I thnk something like that got my dad. I thnk it made him infec me too? So thirsty. I hurt al over now. Oh my hed. I feel it in me? I feel it insid and outside to? Oh no. I thnk Ol Mr Horsehair is crawlin all in me.
Stay away.
Pleas
So tirsty
Bye
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