Wurms

Roxy cowered under the bed. The iridescent, alien wurm in front of her writhed in panicked, jerky motions as its mouth opened slowly in a silent scream and its essence escaped. An ominous, growling whir came from the machine stealing the wurm’s essence.

The wurm’s movements accelerated as its beautiful body, patterned with rose, lavender, and gray accents, became increasingly transparent. Roxy reached for the wurm as if attempting to stop its demise, and the ominous whir abruptly stopped.

“Roxy!” yelled Mary, exasperated. “I can’t spin yarn cakes if you’re going to interfere like that.” She grumbled, “Cats!”, glaring at the slitted, yellow eyes peering back at her intently.

“Honey, I’m home!” a muffled voice yelled, as the front door slammed shut. “You have another package.”

Alex put the large box down and exclaimed, “Holy cow!”, surveying the carnage-in-progress, yarn of all colors, shapes, and sizes scattered around the room.

“I wonder if that Star Trek episode ‘Trouble with Tribbles’ was inspired by someone married to a knitting addict”, he grinned mischievously.
Roxy’s head arced in wonder. I didn’t know wurms could fly.