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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Wicht" data-source="post: 219204" data-attributes="member: 221">The Turning of the WormBy Jonathan McAnulty“Wisely did Ibn Schacabao say, that happy is the tomb where no wizard hath lain, and happy the town at night whose wizards are all ashes.  For it is of old rumour that the soul of the devil-bought hastes not from his charnel clay, but fats and instructs the very worm that gnaws…” The NecronomiconThe worm tunneled slowly through the decomposing brain, and as it did so awareness grew.  Whether it was the brain or the worm which was special it was hard to say, but, to those who observe such things, it was certain that the worm was growing ever more intelligent.The intelligence began with cognitive thought, a rarity among earthworms, even earthworms as large and resplendent as this one.  The worm for the first time in its life really noticed its surroundings.  It felt the coolness of the soil and tasted the flavor of the dirt.   It wiggled and it jiggled and it felt alive as it had never felt alive before.  “Peachy Keen!” thought the worm and then, with awe, the worm realized that it knew words!Indeed words had began to spring full blown into its psyche and the worm trying to keep up with its own growing mental faculties began to give the proper names to things.  It named the dirt and then it named the root it had just brushed.  It named a stone and then curling up into itself for a moment it felt its own lubricating secretions and squished.  It named the feeling of squishing.“Squish, squish, squish,” thought the worm to itself happily.  If it had possessed hands it would have clapped at its cleverness.  If it had possessed vocal cords it would have sang with glee.  But it possessed neither and so it squished again, just to be doing it.The worm realized with a start that it did not have a name for itself.  This could not do and so it cast about in its head for a proper name.  “Wormius Rex,” it thought, and then discarded that grandiose title for the more suitable “Arthur,” which, if it had known, had been the name of the man whose brain it had just recently passed through.Arthur the worm wiggled delightedly at its new name and went on for another five minutes just naming things.  Arthur stopped naming things only when he realized that he had begun to think in sentences.  He was streaming words together.  “This is language,” the worm thought proudly, “I am a master of grammar and communication!” and then just to prove to himself that he could, he composed a rhyme.  “The dirt cannot hurt!”  This was followed by, “The seed grows into a weed!”Arthur was momentarily beside himself with delight.  But then, feeling the need for a bit more maturity about the whole thing he forced himself to stop and relax.  “Grammar is mere child’s play,” thought Arthur and decided he needed to challenge himself a bit more.  “I shall take up mathematics,” thought Arthur.  He began by doing simple arithmetic in his head and then followed this up with multiplication.  “This is hot stuff,” thought Arthur to himself as he calculated pi out to 24 decimal places.  He ran through a host of Algebraic equations, proving them all to himself and then set to with geometry.  He followed this up with statistical analysis but soon found that he grew bored with math.“Is this all there is to life,” thought Arthur.  “Numbers and Names?  There must be more.  There must be a reason, a purpose.  But what is that purpose?  This is a deep question for a small worm, I must give it thought.”  The worm, wiggling along, chewing on a bit of dirt just to have something to do, turned his full attention to philosophy.  He proved to himself that he did exist and that he was a worm.  He had already decided that mere knowledge for the sake of knowledge was not enough and so began to give consideration to the stoic philosophies.  He contemplated whether or not he would be happier without feelings and then gave equal consideration to the Epicurean school, deciding that perhaps it was better to eat dirt, drink dew and be happy.  This was followed by the serious consideration that there might actually be more to life than just this life and Arthur briefly considered whether he had a soul.  Perhaps the answer lay not in philosophy but in religion.  He cast about in his deepest most parts to decide whether he was good or evil.  The worm decided on evil.  “I am after all a worm,” he thought rationally, “That which crawls and gnaws and waxes fat on the flesh of the dead.”  He wasn’t sure how he knew that but he knew he knew it and furthermore he decided he liked who and what he was.  “I am a worm!  And sooner or later all must bow before me for even a king will pass through the belly of a worm!  There is none who can stand before me for I am power incarnate.”  “I have discovered my philosophy…,” realized the worm, “Knowledge should be used!  It should be used to bring me ever greater and darker powers!”   Mentally, for he still had not the ability to speak, Arthur laughed evilly.  Arthur reflected on his growing knowledge and realized that he knew quite a lot about certain arcane principles.  He knew the names of demons and devils.  He knew the angles by which to travel to other places.  He knew the rites that would bring up the dead.  He even began to have a faint understanding of where his knowledge came from and in a moment of pure genius realized that if he continued to feast on the brains of men he would gain knowledge and power unparalleled!  With a little patience he could, and would, muster forth dark energies, summon dread powers and then make a place for himself in the world!  “People shall tremble at Arthur as he crushes them!” thought the worm in a moment of maniacal egomania.  But even as he began making plans for the domination of all life, the ground he crawled through trembled and he felt the earth move.  The earth fell away from about him and he cognitively saw for the first time the sky and the sun and knew the feel of the breeze for what it was.  But his excitement at the new experiences was short lived for it was then that he saw the giant, who, stooping down gathered him up with thick fingers.For the first time Arthur the worm heard another sentient being speak and knew what the words meant.  “Will you look at this one!  He’s huge!  C’mon, Dad, put him on the hook!”</blockquote>

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