The Wormbursters

    Stuart lived in Moht Bahru. It was a place where bad things happened. Stuart understood this well because his parents were honest with him, and instead of just telling him what to do, made a point of saying why. Not all of his peers were so fortunate. When Liska wrote her name backwards, she fell under the power of Melchinphale and started aging in reverse. When Bradford ate in pitch darkness one night, Yogel bit into his chocolate bar, and he woke up unable to speak the next day. When Horace left his clothes unfolded Wangelwurst stepped into them, assumed their rightful owner's form and committed unspeakable acts in his name.

    Stuart’s knowledge of the area and its dangerous conditions earned him an apprenticeship with Wenzel, an occult practitioner who hoped to end the people’s woes. This was less exciting than it seemed. His early tasks were limited to fetching and carrying, stocking shelves and sweeping floors, while his later academic ones took up much more of his time and he rarely got to see his friends.

    Stuart confessed he was lonely and asked Wenzel for a pet, but his master was not interested; keeping animals on the premises would be an unnecessary risk. But when Stuart reminded his master that pets need not be animals Wenzel knew the time had come to find his apprentice something more.

    That night Wenzel locked himself in the bell tower. The air became noticeably colder and a purple light flickered under the door. Stuart heard his master recite the Thirteen Litanies before a thunderclap drowned out his words. Then all was ominously calm. Stuart was expecting the worst when Wenzel threw the door open. His clothes were wet and dishevelled and a shock of his hair had turned white but his expression was triumphant. “I have a friend for you,” he said, and gave Stuart a purple funnel, made from some hard, unearthly substance, with a lifelike eye on either side.

    Stuart thanked his master, though he was a little disappointed. His pet seemed no better than the ones some children made themselves. But something about his master’s demeanour suggested this purple funnel was different. “His name is Samporius,” said Wenzel. “Be sure to take good care of him. He cost me my best lithopedion.”

    Stuart’s loneliness decreased as he continued with his studies, though this could have just been resignation. Samporius was a tolerable pet; he needed no food, created no mess and was very well behaved. When Wenzel learned a giant milkworm had been seen near Moht Bahru he sent Stuart out to investigate. Stuart spent all morning tracking it only to find it was dead. He had barely overcome his disgust when Pogerty, Pufnis and Tobnemall burst from deep rents in its corpse. All three had asked to work for Wenzel, but on being turned away had pledged themselves to death instead.

    Stuart knew he ought to run, but some gruesome fascination kept him anchored to the spot. The Wormbursters crept closer, reciting morbid poetry and fingering sharp implements. Then Samporius awoke. He stood up on his narrow end, hopped three times and spun around – and a fierce wind sprang up from nowhere. The Wormbursters screamed and tried to back off but were drawn inexorably forward, for the funnel exerted a powerful suction. When Pufnis threw her knife at Stuart – who did not seem to be affected – it was swallowed by Samporius. The Wormbursters were next in line, still shrieking and struggling, but growing faint and insubstantial as they neared the funnel’s maw. As they were sucked into it, Stuart caught a frightful glimpse of another world beyond: a place of rain-slicked alleyways and lamps that burned with purple flame. Then the scene vanished, the fierce wind died down, and Samporius became a normal funnel once again.

    Stuart returned to his master’s house with a far greater appreciation of what the man had done for him; and on hearing Stuart’s tale Wenzel was just as grateful for the sacrifices he had made. Samporius had saved his apprentice and rid him of three antagonists. His faith in Stuart had not been misplaced.

    On completing his apprenticeship Stuart put his lessons into practice. Moht Bahru still has its dangers, but they claim fewer victims now. Wenzel has long since retired, though he still gives advice to those in need. None have dared to ask him what happened to the Wormbursters, but they most likely met the wrath of one who lives alone in darkness and sharpens her claws on a child of bone.