I stared at the white worm protruding from my left nostril. This particular worm's diameter was much larger and looked as if it were three times larger than the previous one. The worm continued to wiggle inside my nose without making any progress of getting out.

"G.o.d, that feels awful," I moaned as I continued to watch.

"What are you going to do?" Will asked. "Oh, Jesus!" he hissed as I grabbed the worm between my fingers and began to pull. I screamed out as more blood flowed from my nose.

"Be careful, man. Don't those things have hooks on them?"

"I don't know," I muttered, my voice full of pain. I didn't care. I just wanted the f.u.c.king thing out. Will's face contorted, as if he were going to vomit, as I continued to pull.

I gagged as I felt the tail end tickle the back of my throat. I successfully fought back the intestinal juices and continued to pull. As I did, a puddle of blood began to fill the sink. I released one last agonizing scream as I finally yanked the thing out.

"My G.o.d. It must be a foot long," Will gasped.

When I turned to face him, Will's face tightened and his eyes squinted.

"Dude, it happened to me, and I didn't throw up! What are you, a little girl?" I said, trying to amuse myself at his expense.

Will's gagging didn't let up and it wasn't long until he vomited. It took all of my will power not to follow his lead as I stared at his breakfast. The fact that the worm was still wiggling between my fingers didn't help.

"Will, are you all right?"

He was unable to answer. His gagging intensified. I took a step back when the next thing that came out of his mouth was blood. I watched in sheer horror as his eyes opened fully, acknowledging the excruciating pain.

I saw a ripple under his shirt.

"Dear G.o.d!" Will managed to shout.

I quickly ripped open the front of his shirt and stared, dumbstruck, at the ma.s.sive vein bulging under his skin. No. Not a vein at all.

It was something much larger.

"Help me!" Will blurted as he grabbed my shoulders.

I could feel my jaw dangling open as I watched the worm move under his skin. "I don't know what to do," I replied, helpless.

"Oh, G.o.d! It's coming out!"

"No...!"

Before I could react, the worm burst from his chest, just below his heart. His blood splashed across my face and the worm's head slammed into my body. The force sent me crashing to the floor. Will's body also fell, just outside of the bathroom. The tapeworm slithered from the wound and I was temporarily paralyzed with fear. It was enormous. I figure it had run out of room inside his body.

It lifted its head high into the air and turned toward me. Could it SEE me? Not wanting to find out, I quickly threw myself across the floor and slammed the door shut just before the worm crashed into it.

I sat there with my back against the door, bracing it against the worm's battering.

"How the h.e.l.l did it get so f.u.c.king big?" I yelled...and then the answer hit me. The steroids.

I heard myself whispering "Oh s.h.i.t, oh s.h.i.t," and for the first time in my life I had an inkling of what unadulterated panic felt like.

I frantically looked around the room for a weapon. My thoughts drifted to Lisa and at that moment, I was willing to do whatever I needed to do to survive this ordeal and to see her once more.

The worm's pounding was taking its toll on the hollow door. It was beginning to splinter. I stood up, wedged my left foot against the door and stretched to retrieve a can of hairspray that was sitting on the counter. Once I had it in my right hand, I dug into my left pants' pocket and pulled out my lighter. I perched the lighter by the nozzle and got ready to hose down the thing with my makeshift flame-thrower.

As the worm's head broke through the door I lit the lighter and pushed down on the aerosol can. The hairspray instantly ignited and the flames. .h.i.t their mark. The worm unleashed a high-pitched squeal as it retreated.

I quickly followed it out and, as soon as I was in range, I sprayed the flammable fluid through the lighter's flame once again. The worm continued to slither away, but when it was cornered, it swung its ma.s.sive tail at my legs, knocking them out from underneath me. I fell on my a.s.s and dropped both the lighter and aerosol can. The creature appeared to have absolutely no eyes, but somehow it knew right where I was and quickly it was upon me.

I found it extremely difficult to breathe with the creature's weight on my chest. The worm's head lowered and hovered inches above my face. It remained motionless for a few seconds; sweat began to roll down my forehead as I stared at its bristly scolex. Suddenly, the worm raised its head and drove it downward with incredible force. I dodged what would have been a fatal blow and the worm's head crashed through the floor. Though the floor was carpeted, it didn't soften the blow. The worm slowly lifted its head out of the hole, obviously dazed by the impact.

With all my remaining strength I landed a right hook into the side of its head. The worm's body crashed to the floor beside me and I jumped back to my feet, kicked the worm in the midsection and ran into the kitchen. I rummaged through the cabinets until I found what I was looking for. Will always had a bottle of vodka lying around. It was his vice.

As the worm began to recover, I retrieved my lighter and began to pour the bottle of vodka all over its moon-colored flesh. With the bottle empty, I lit the lighter and tossed it onto the worm.

It was instantly encased in a blanket of flames.

"The worm has definitely turned!" I shouted with a kind of manic glee.

The worm made one final charge but I quickly dodged it. Its body crashed to the floor. I stood over its charred remains, watching it closely for any signs of life.

I called the police. I take full responsibility for what happened next. But I beg for your forgiveness.

Will's body suddenly stood up, the large crater in his chest bleeding profusely. He stumbled toward me with his arms stretched out before him. There was no emotion in his eyes and that frightened me.

"Will, you're alive!" I said, but I was wrong. Dead wrong.

He grabbed me by the throat and began to choke me violently. I struggled to break free. I grabbed at his wrists but his hold was too tight. I punched him in the side of the face, splitting his cheek. My eyes widened as I saw several white worms writhing inside the flesh. Finally, I broke free of its grasp and ran out of the house. It followed me. I had left my car unlocked and I quickly reached in and grabbed my steering wheel club. As the thing that once was my best friend came within reach, I swung the club and struck it on the left side of its head. The skull exploded and hundreds of worms spilled out onto the ground. They must have been controlling him.

Please believe me...if I had known those things would live long enough to find another host and grow, I would have reacted differently. I would have run back into the house, retrieved the aerosol can and my lighter, and burned every last one of them to a crisp. All of them. Instead, I jumped into my car and burned rubber for half a block.

Please understand that at that moment, I was teetering on the edge of insanity. I had just survived a living nightmare and I reacted poorly. I know that now, but put yourself in my shoes. What would you have done?

The power just went out. These things are smart. They are using us. They are growing.

The last report on the news was of a sighting of several large worms traveling across the Hudson River. They were said to be nearly 40 feet in length.

Dear G.o.d.

Without my television, I am truly alone.

I am afraid.

My biggest fear is that when the door gives, and I see what it is out there that so desperately wants inside, I will lose all hope.

Lisa's hollowed-out husk.

Clawing to get in.

The phenomenon of "cutting" is more prevalent than you'd expect. Princess Diana was rumored to be a 'cutter', although I cannot confirm or deny this.

In the book THE ALCOHOLISM AND ADDICTION CURE, Author Chris Prentiss explains how 'cutters' think, as he cured one. "You feel bad before you cut yourself; you feel better AFTER you cut yourself. You're cutting yourself to feel GOOD," he told a woman...and that particular vice was revealed and subsequently defeated.

As New Zealand's Master of Horror Lee Pletzers describes, it's not always defeated...

The Seal By Lee Pletzers From the depth of his soul it came forth, ripping and tearing skin.

Claws gripped the flayed skin, a black head the shape of a panther with a long snout and a jutted jaw, slid from the opening, surveying its surrounds. It lunged forward, forcing its thick muscular body forward, struggling, wriggling its way through, and ripping the man's torso apart in the process.

Feeling no pain, he watched the creature stride to and fro, claws clacked on the vinyl covered floor. Malevolent eyes, green and deep, stared at the man. Its lip curled up exposing a row of jagged teeth, tips gleamed in the fluorescent lights. Water dripped off its slick coat creating a puddle on the floor.

The lights flickered. The creature vanished in the flickering darkness. With each flash of light the beast moved closer like stop motion photography. The mattress sunk as it leapt onto the bed, growling, hungry and eyeing his exposed heart.

"Wake up," came a female voice with a stern tone. "Warwick, wake up."

The creature eyed the woman, licked its lips, and poised on the bed it crouched, ready to strike.

"Don't make me restrain you."

Warwick's eyes snapped open, momentarily startling the woman.

"That's better," she said, absentmindedly brushing down her nurse ap.r.o.n. She grabbed his wrist and looked at her watch. "You must calm down," she scolded. "All the machines went into alarm."

"Leave, now! It's watching you!" His voice was a harsh whisper full of urgency and concern.

"Mister James, there's nothing there." The nurse stared at her watch. She shook her head. "I'm going to have to give you something. Your pulse is racing."

The creature growled. Raising a paw, its claws snapped out like tiny curved daggers. It swept through the nurse, slashed the face in five slices, but the woman was unaffected. The beast's claws were an ethereal image pa.s.sing through solid objects, like a ghost and nothing more. Frustrated, a roar ripped from its throat.

Warwick laughed. The seal was cracked but not broken. All was good for now, but he knew he needed to enhance the seal, strengthen it. He smiled at the nurse. He knew how the game was played. "I think I'm fine now," he said. "It was just a dream that seemed so real."

The nurse filled a hypodermic syringe.

"Seriously-I don't need that."

The nurse tapped air out of the syringe.

"Betty, please."

"It's for your own good." She turned to face him. "Just settle down, now."

Warwick tried to move, but the creature had pinned his arms at his sides. Its snout was inches from his nose, its hind legs on his thighs. "She injects me, you die."

He stared into the creatures' deep green eyes. He flinched at the sting of the needle. "Goodbye," he said to the creature as it faded and its weight lifted. Looking down at his chest moments before the drug took him, he smiled. Everything was as it should be. In 72 hours the beast would return. He had to find a cutting instrument. He had to strengthen the seal, cut deeper into the skin and etch marks the breastbone. That would hold it at bay...until he healed again.

Eight folding chairs were laid out in a semi-circle, all facing one chair and the person sitting in it. Dr. Chandler was reading through his notes before the others arrived. Apparently Warwick had an 'episode' two nights back and needed sedation. That was a shame. He thought they had come so far in the previous month. It had taken longer than usual but he had managed to get the poor guy to open up in private at first, then at group. One day, Dr Chandler hoped Warwick would explain the need to cut himself. He guessed one of the chairs should be moved before the other patients entered for Group Therapy.

The door opened before he had a chance to move.

He got up from his seat as Jerry and Dean entered. Both wore their usual hospital attire, although everyone was encouraged to wear what they wanted to this session. They were deep in conversation with each other. Dr Chandler knew it would turn to an argument soon if he didn't get them off topic. He listened as he pretended to go to the window. Aliens. They were talking about aliens again. He knew this argument well. As soon as Dean mentioned his theory that humans were created by aliens to be slaves, it was his time to step in between them. He hoped Dean wouldn't go down that path today.

It looked nice outside. The sun was high in the sky and the clouds were nowhere to be seen. Patients and staff milled about outside. It was still cold, judging by the coats and scarves everyone wore. Outside looked wonderful, but he was stuck in this room.

Drab grey paint covered concrete walls, no hint of a personality anywhere in this common room, little warmth radiated from the oil heater bolted to the wall, and a large white clock above the door had a loud clicking sound. He checked his watch against the wall clock, only two patients had shown up so far and it was start time. Where were the others? Jerry and Dean had stopped talking. That was good, no fights today.

About to call his a.s.sistant, Tina entered. She wore fishnet stockings, a very mini, mini skirt and a halter top. Her red hair was wet and hung in strands.

"h.e.l.lo, Tina, glad you could make it."

She sneered more than smiled, but it was a response and Dr. Chandler would take what he could get.

"You look like a wh.o.r.e," Jerry said leaning forward and trying to see down her top.

She spat in his face.

Dr. Chandler sighed. It was going to be a difficult session after all.

"You'll be sorry when the aliens come back! You'll be a slave, wh.o.r.e!" He sat back in his seat.

"You'd know man-wh.o.r.e."

Leaning against the wall Dr Chandler looked at his patients. His phone vibrated. s.h.i.t. He had forgotten to take it out before signing in.

"You b.i.t.c.h."

The phone stopped vibrating. No one seemed to notice. Everyone was involved in their-getting heated-conversation. He had to take control and quickly. "Does anyone know what happened to Warwick?"

"He had an attack of the crazies." Dean laughed at his comment.

"Maybe the aliens came to take him away," Tina offered.

Jerry's mouth dropped open. "No way."

"Tina," Dr. Chandler warned.

She looked his way, squinting against the sunlight. "Well, we don't know what happened, do we? Too many b.l.o.o.d.y secrets in this place."

The door opened. They all looked in that direction and saw Warwick shuffle in. He looked a mess, his hospital garbs hung off his thin frame, his face was haggard and unshaven and his hair was uncombed. It looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks, but Dr. Chandler knew he had been sedated. You wouldn't guess it by looking at him, he thought as he watched Warwick take a seat next to Tina.

Warwick stared at the wall, his eyes unmoving. Dr Chandler tried to coax him into the conversations but his patient never spoke. The hour seemed to pa.s.s slowly and it was challenging to keep the conversations alive. At the end, Dr Chandler was relieved when his group rose up and walked out. Gathering up his notes and placing them in his briefcase, he noticed Warwick standing at the door.