Day of the Worm

My dreams are so real! I have had them for as long as I can remember. Each night when I sleep, the dream continues from the point it left off from the night before. It’s a story I hear every night for almost all of my fourteen years. My dreams are preparing me for great things to come, I know that now. I’ve tried to tell others, but they just laugh. Most believe I have created a land of make believe to escape the reality of my life. Having been orphaned when I was a baby and in and out orphanages and foster homes all my life, I can totally see how they could come to that conclusion. But tomorrow, when I am gone, they will know the truth. Tomorrow is the day that a voice in a dream once told me, “Before the sun sets on your five and ten year of life, you shall return with hope and salvation on your back for all who will follow you!” This is what I see when I close my eyes. Let me tell you about my dreams.

In my dreams, I see a world so close to us that only the width of a hair separates the two. Yet they are so far apart that traveling the distance would take a thousand years. It is a world of constant night yet bathed in beauty and light from the ground and stones themselves. This world is warm and full of life despite no sun in the sky. It is a medieval world where science and magic are one.

In my dreams, I see six great nations in this world. These nations live together in peace for they have no desire to take each other’s land. The land from another nation means nothing to the other, therefore quarreling and greed were never given the opportunity to take root. Castles and villages, farms and towns cover the land. All live both simplistic lives with a hint of technologies both natural and mystical.

In my dreams, I see a beautiful domed temple made from stone as white as ivory. In this temple rests the six sacred weapons given to each of the nations as a gift from a goddess. She bestowed these gifts to prepare her people for the day of the Worm. The weapons are wielded by one from each nation; the one chosen by the goddess. In the center of the temple is a seventh altar, where the most revered items sit. It is the armor and weapons of the seventh son of a seventh son whose veins run with the blood of a god and whose coming was foretold will unite the realms in their darkest hour. The steel is blue and silver and the armor is as light as cotton. The weapons consist of a gauntlet and sword. The gauntlet serves as a shield and houses a disk that three blades emerge from and obeys the will of the thrower; it lays waste to its foes and returns to its master's hand every time. The sword was forged from the very essence of life and is the mortal enemy of rot and decay. It will never break, shatter, or become dull.

In my dreams, I see a day in which black rain falls from the sky in the lands beyond the six realms. Viscous ropy strands of greenish black tar pour from the clouds. Anything it touches immediately begins to decay and corrode. The arrival of the Worm is heralded by his fortress bursting through the clouds and penetrating the land upon impact. The castle of the worm is a jagged and a pointed citadel with bulbous blister-like domes upon it. This is the throne from where the Worm will reign. The decay spreads from the dark shard in the form of black mold and writhing masses of tentacles, rotting everything it touches; except for one thing: the dead. The dead are absorbed and used as vessels for the decay to take form. They are the eyes, the foot, and the iron fist of the Worm. Having filled its ranks with the deceased and slain flesh of the surrounding villages, the Worm releases the blisters from the walls of its fortress. Its army of decayed and mindless drones are commanded to carry the blisters into the heart of all six nations where it will plant itself into the ground and become extensions of its mind and will. From there it wages war against every man, woman, and child.

In my dreams, I see the goddess blessing the six warriors from each of the nations before spiriting away the seventh set of armor and weapons from the walls of the vulnerable temple. She hides the items in a place far from the Worm’s reach where they will wait until claimed by its rightful owner. In a final act of sacrifice, I see the goddess exhausting the last of her immortality in order to open a door of light in which she places a tiny infant. She bids the child farewell and before closing the door she says with tears in her eyes, “Goodbye, my son.”

It is twenty minutes to midnight, the day of my fifteenth birthday. I sit on the floor and I am trembling with fear. But I don't tremble because I am afraid of the unknown or of things to come. I am not afraid of the hideous monsters and vicious creatures I will face. I don’t fear the violence I will encounter or battles I will fight. I am not afraid of the great responsibility that will come at being the savior of my people. None of that scares me. What really scares me, what truly grips my soul in an oppressive weight of fright and panic is one single thing. What I fear most is that tomorrow will come and go like any other ordinary day.