Lumbricus

Sundays glorious morning air had lost its crispness announcing that Spring had well and truly arrived. Cyril Lumbricus couldn’t hear the distant birds broadcasting the dawn, but sensed that they were too far away to be interested in his movements. He poked his head outside his home and felt the delicately tested the ground. Dew still clinging to the grass and the soil still sodden. Deciding that it might be a little cold still for his morning meander, Cyril headed into the warmth of his front hallway and down into his workspace, intent on making an early start on his mountainous task.

 Although he lived in a communal collective, Cyril had prided himself in undertaking much of the construction of his personal space; perhaps more than a good citizen aught to. He paused at one of his rooms. Last nights downpour had flooded that part of his home. As he inspected the moisture still pooling on the floor, he decided to track down the real estate agent who had been so enthusiastic about the neighbourhood and for him to move so close to his work.  True enough, there were plenty of other bodies, squirming their way, up and down the busy corridors making the opportunity for him to find a mate a higher chance than where he had grown up. Not that he needed a partner. Cyril was happy to be self contained and unattached. However, he was not impressed with the backyard or soil content; despite her reassurances that any water which did collect, would quickly be dispersed.

Cyril poked about in his workspace, is mind wandering and unfocused. He’d woken too early, skipped breakfast and had not gone for his normal morning outing. Little wonder he was feeling out of sorts. Heavy foot falls vibrated through his walls. Cyrils stomach sank.  Most of his neighbours, although some of the slippery type, were generally well meaning and kept to themselves. Unlike these monstrous brutes who had little regard to the hours of work he undertook.

Giant thuds rebounded his workspace. Cyril shrank down, hoping the morning interruption would soon pass. It was normally worse on the weekends when those neighbours started their lawn mower or hedge trimmer. But this was a new noise; rhythmic, thrusting deep into the earth. For a moment everything seemed silent; but was punctuated suddenly with a sickening slice. 

Cyrils home exploded. A razer sharp blade thrust itself through his main corridor and into his workspace. The pressure of the blade severed Cyril in half. Green ooze seeped from his middle aortic arch and his nether regions flicked ineffectually as it spasmed and squirmed.  His top half was lifted unceremoniously out of his home and inspected by giant eyes.

“EWWWW.. Daddy you chopped a worm in half!”

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Story inspired by the [Fiction Friday] prompt at Write Anything ( Prompt - Utilise the T.S.O.D – a NaNoWriMo tradition. The rules are simple. In your story,  kill somone. With a shovel. Read more F.A.Qs here.……)

and submitted to JM Strother’s #FridayFlash  via Twitter. 

This story will be recorded and posted up for Spoken Sunday via Audio Boo