Yesterday, upon leaving dear Charles, I promptly hurried myself to the Berry College library in hopes of delivering my tasked message to Beverly. I found her deep in the stacks on the farthest wall of the library. I produced the message and awaited her reaction. After reading it, she rushed from the building leaving the library assistants in charge.

Standing in the back of the library alone I felt tiny and like a boat adrift, not knowing what to do or where to go. Charles had said that there were eggs, so I decided to find out how to retard the growth and hatching time of eggs. My research began in the agriculture section and ended in Zoology. My rudimentary study into the subject revealed cold temperatures effect the development of eggs. As we are warm creatures, I needed to employ some artificial temperature control.

In reflection of the day's events I walked somberly to the Wilkes Ice House, where I arranged for the late shipment of two half blocks to my residence, then hurried home to await my delivery.

Upon my arrival home, I quickly transcribed the days events in this journal for the recording of facts of events. In doing this, I realized my error for I included the catalyst, the words of the spell, withing these pages. To remedy this I placed a notice of warning in the front of the journal to advise future readers  divert their efforts of knowing the facts contained within as it will assuredly be to their ill fate. If you are reading this still, I am sorry for your future.  

As I impatiently waited for my shipment I bathed several times, I prayed the shipment would not arrive during the many baths. The thought of the worm eggs covering me, the books and all book readers made my skin itch and pick beneath my clothing. Even within the bath the itching continued, I scrubbed my flesh almost raw. 

I began thinking the delivery would be too late as it was eight of the clock when I had arranged it but at approximately ten of the clock the ice was placed in my ice box and the ice man was gone. I picked at the block and created a large pile of ice chips which I rolled into a towel. The towel was wrapped about my head.

The ice was replaced every hour as needed. That was how I spent my worrisome night: in my nightgown, on my couch, just steps from my kitchen ice box. I prayed to my lord, the splitting aching in my head was the product of the ice wrapped about my head and not of hungry worms satiating their appetites.

At some point, I slept.

. . .

There was a powerful pounding upon my door. A deep voice called my name, "Ms. Lueaine?"

My confusion was profound and it dizzied me so.  I half awoke with, sweat dripping down my face from beneath the soaked towel. My thin nightgown was soaked at from the waist up and clung to me like another skin, revealing parts of me better left unseen in company. Unfortunately, company was on its way from the sounds of things.

I rushed to the ice box to renew my ice treatment but collapsed just short of the ice box. I crawled to it, opened the ice box door then started chipping at the ice when the pounding resumed upon the door and within my head alike.

BANG; BANG; BANG; "Ms. Lueaine, Mam, I need tah see you"; BANG; BANG; CRACK!

The door gave and swung open with another, BANG. I heard a heavy lumbering down the hallway.

Then --

Mr. Toddson stood framed by the doorway of my kitchen holding what appeared to be some odd manner of rope within his hand. He was grinning as he bolted towards me. He put the rope about my neck just as I fell unconscious.

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- D.Alan