I scoured the reference section with intense voracity but little more was uncovered above that which I had at University. A few books mentioned the term in relation to an illness which ran rampant in fifth and sixth centuries but aside from that, the usual marriage of "book" and "worm" was prevalent.

I felt the need to move my research over to the Roman era books, but thought I should request permission as they were especially old. I toiled with the dilemma for a few moments then, decided permission and aid was required as I spoke and understood little of Latin.

I ventured from the room, into the meager dining area. From there, I was amply able to see Charles in the bedchamber. To my astonishment, he was fastening a black leather harness above the bed, the use of which I dare not speculate for fear for my purity of thoughts and innocents of my mind. I turned from the scene and hurried back to the office, then feigned an unknowing call for aid. "Charles, can you assist me for a moment?"

Moments later he was there querying my needs. I explained my frustrations and asked permission for use of the Roman era writings. I explained my deficiencies in the field of Latin and he agreed to aid me. Perched atop a stool which stood to the right of the desk I watched as Charles retrieved several books, dividing them among us. "You may not understand Latin, but you may review the illustrations and alert me to any you may think of as useful to us," he instructed.

I felt useless. He was looking though his books exhaustively, as I was relegated to using them as a child uses picture books. I was finished with my three texts and approached the shelves to retrieve more picture books. One stood out, the only light brown leather cover on the shelf. The leather cover was soft and smooth. It gave slightly under the gentle touch of my fingers. "Et Maleficos amicus" was written on the cover but that was Greek to me, literally.

About fifty pages in was a page of great interest. It was the softest page of the book, almost like it was leather itself. It felt like this page was covered in the hair of a peach, but not a hair or speck fuzz was visible. In the middle of the page was etched in the boldest of letters, "ne hanc paginam legere". Scraled in gold encircling the edges of the page in constant repetition was, "cerebrum anulosorum, expergiscimini manducare".

"Charles what does, 'cerebrum anulosorum, expergiscimini manducare', mean'?" I asked.

"What book is that!" he asked panicked. His eye widening to an increasing state of alarm.

"Et Maleficos Amicus, Why?"

"For the sake of the gods! That's a spell book!" he said snatching it from my hands. Looking the pages over frantically. "'Et Maleficos Amicus', roughly translated to, 'The Wizards Friend'," he explained. Speaking cautiously, "The; passage; you read, calls for 'The Brain Worms' to awaken," he said.

"And what exactly do they do?"

"I'd imagine; eat." he said quietly. "I'm sure it's noting. It's getting late. I'll research this further. Then I'll contact you upon my findings early hours, tomorrow."

We spoke not of our fears as he quietly escorted me back to the Susquehanna River Crossing. We sat in utter silence waiting, as we had arrived earlier than my agreed time with the boats-man. The awkwardness grew heavy in the air between us until I finally broke it.

"How long have you known Bev," I asked.

He smiled, "Many, many, many years. More than you'd dream possible," he replied. Then the smile faltered.

The silence resumed until I saw the boat coming our way and pointed out to him. Taking the chance to approach the unspoken subject, "Will I be okay?"

"My dear, I believe it's WE who are in a predicament. We both read the page and touched the book; but I digress, the book is most likely insignificant, as the worms are assuredly on and within all the pages of books and journals in the world." he said absently staring at the boats crossing the river.

"I do not follow"

"It was the call to action that imperils us. All who speak, hear or even read those words would be subject to the worms' wrath," he said.

"You speculate that all the books of the world are infected with these worms?"

"I do, and avid readers are covered in these benign metaphysical parasites, thus the term 'Book Worms' was born." That is what I've deduced on our silent walk here.

"Dearest Lord! The words I read aloud; caused them to hatch in us?"

"You're still not understanding, 'Aloud' had nothing to do with it. Even reading them silently upon your couch would have activated them."

Silence fell again for a moment. "What are we to do?"

"I'll contact you in the morning," he said producing a pen and pad. Handing me them, he asked for my address, I provided it and handed them back. He then, scrawled a note and tasked me with delivery to Beverly. I hugged him dearly, took the note and pocketed it. Then boarded the small vessel, turning to wave to him as I departed, wishing him all the luck the world had to offer.

That was the last time I spoke with Charles. His ill fate was described to me in horrific detail by an unexpected source the following afternoon.

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As always, comments are welcome. Constructive criticism is also welcome.

- D.Alan