Nighttime Duty
The sound startles me from my dreams. Instead of the toasty, glowing sands succumbing to the fall of my weight, I hear the dry pricks of teensy feet against the cool tile on which my bed rests.
“What is that noise?” my wife asks.
“It’s those damned worms,” I retort, covering my ears with my damp pillow.
“Aren’t you going to kill them?” She rolls over.
I unwrap myself and step down to search for the culprits. I don’t even take a step when I hear the wet crunches. Too tired to clean my foot, I crawl back in bed.
From Guest Contributor, Bradley Sides
Bradley Sides holds an M.A. in English. His fiction appears (and is forthcoming) in Belle Rêve Literary Journal, Birmingham Arts Journal, Boston Literary Magazine, Freedom Fiction Journal, Inwood Indiana, Literary Orphans and Used Gravitrons. He is a staff writer for Bookkaholic. He resides in Florence, Alabama, with his wife, and he is working on his debut novel.
Please support the site by purchasing one of my books on Amazon. Check out Quitting The Grave, a murder mystery set on the Oregon Trail. Plus, don't forget my other books: They Both Loved Vonnegut, Ahab's Adventures in Wonderland, and Picasso Painted Dinosaurs.