West Virginia author: no, it's not like Wrong Turn, until it's exactly like Wrong Turn.
William's works include the psychological horror novel "The Man Behind the Door" and the supernatural horror novel "The Devil Within Us All," William takes inspiration from his own experiences to craft novels that tackle the horrors and demons of real life.
His debut, The Man Behind the Door, tackles grief, trauma, and addiction through the lens of a ghost story and explores generational trauma. It was acclaimed for its compassionate tone, handling of the difficult subject matter, and multiple storylines that come together in the end.
He currently works full-time as a pharmacy technician at an independent pharmacy while raising his son and daughter with his wife. In his free time, he enjoys outings with his family, reading, and playing music.
Read more by William right HERE.
THEY HAVE MAGGOTS FOR EYES
by
William Gray
I’m not crazy.
I’m just fucking not.
I don’t know how to explain it, or why it’s happening, or what it even is, but I know that I’m not losing my mind.
Licking my lips, I try to avert my eyes from the cashier’s face but can’t bring myself to do it. The squirming white forms fall from the empty pockets where her eyes should be, rolling down her cheeks and onto the counter where they begin to search blindly.
“Can I get you anything else?” She asks. As she speaks, more maggots tumble from her mouth and I can see some of them stuck in her teeth. One of them lands on the pack of beef jerky I’m buying, making my stomach churn. “Maybe a drink or something?”
Please, just shut up. Let me pay.
“Uh… no, thank you.” I can feel the quiver in my voice but I try to bury it with a nervous chuckle. Reaching into my pocket, I gently place a ten on the counter and grab the jerky, turning away from the horrific sight of the woman’s face.
“Sir, your change…”
“Keep it,” I say in a high-pitched voice, keeping my eyes on the ground as I shake the bag of jerky to clear it of any maggots that might still be hanging on. The floor of the 7-Eleven is littered with them, some squished and dead, others still moving. More fall from the people standing in line, creating squirming little piles at their feet. I exit the store as quickly as I can, making my way to the Volkswagen Vanagon parked across the lot. I inspect the bag of jerky and am relieved to find it clean.
As soon as I climb into the driver’s seat, I relax. Here, every surface is pristine. There’s not a sign of larvae inside the van. There’s been no one in here but me for weeks, and I plan to keep it that way.
A map is open in the passenger seat, and I grab it after opening the bag of jerky. Shoving a piece in my mouth, I look at the large piece of paper before me.
Gotta get out of New Mexico.
I’m not sure how I know that it will be better once I get to the coast, but I do. Once I get to the beach and leave the desert behind me, everything will be normal again. The maggots couldn’t have reached that far—there was no way.
That’s what you said when you were leaving for here from Texas, too.
“Shut up,” I tell myself, shoving the map back into the passenger seat and turning the key in the ignition. The Vanagon fires up instantly, and I pull out of the 7-Eleven without bothering to check the flow of traffic. A truck screeches to a halt and blares its horn, but I don’t give it a second thought as I get back onto the highway.
Just gotta get to the coast.
The flashing lights behind send panic flowing through my veins. They’re coming for me, oh God, they’re coming for me.
It was the girl at the convenience store. I’m certain of it. Somehow, she had figured out I’m not like the rest of them. I’m not sure how I’d even gotten this far without being identified; I feel my maggot-less eyes are a pretty big indication that I’m not infected with whatever everyone else has.
Play it cool. Pull over. Maybe he won’t notice.
I don’t know what to say but I plan to do just that. Easing onto the shoulder, I turn off the ignition and watch in my side mirror as the door of the police car opens. A man in a crisp brown uniform approaches my van, watching over his shoulder as the traffic in the lane beside them continues to flow.
I roll down the window as he reaches me and bends down.
“How are we doing today?” The policeman says, maggots rolling down his face from behind the large aviator sunglasses he wears. They cling to his well-groomed beard as he smiles, revealing a mouthful of the squirmy fuckers.
“I… uh… I’m okay,” I say, failing miserably at keeping my composure.
The man’s brow furrows as he watches my face. “You sure about that? You were going awfully fast there.”
“Was I?” I squeak, looking away. “Sorry about that.”
“Yeah… about forty over the speed limit, actually.”
“Oh.”
I’m so fucked. There’s no way I get out of this—if he didn’t know that I was clean before, he’s going to find out because I’m acting so fucking weird…
I look back at him, and I scream as maggots fly from his mouth and land in my lap. They pour out in a continuous stream, like the scene from The Exorcist.
I don’t hesitate. Reaching up, I turn the key and fire up the engine as the officer begins to yell something at me. I have no clue what it is. The steady torrent of larvae pouring from his mouth block his tongue from forming any sort of words. They’re all over me now, climbing and searching for some way inside of me to make me one of them…
Throwing the van in drive, I take off. The officer steps back to avoid being clipped by my van, and I watch as the sixteen-wheeler hits him with a blare of the horn. I have just enough time to register what’s happened before the back-end hits me going fifty miles an hour.
I feel the crunch as much as I feel it, then the pop as the back tire explodes. The Vanagon tips over from the force of the hit, and I watch in horror as the maggots in my lap float through the air almost weightless while the vehicle flips one, two, three times.
I’m not sure, but I think I’ve swallowed one.
Oh God, I think I’ve swallowed one.