Leylia stared at her left hand, trying to decide what the hell it was she just saw. There was a small, brown dot at the joint between her thumb and first finger, not like a freckle or mole, more like a very, very flat scab, or a bruise. She decided it looked more like a bruise. Out of boredom, and a tick she had since she was in preschool, Leylia had squeezed that part of her hand. Out of the bruise-thing had popped what looked like a white caterpillar with a clamp like jaw. Freaking out, she had released and the worm had shot back into her hand.
It hadn't hurt. Leylia rubbed her fingers over the spot where she though the worm was but felt no bump of movement. It had been about the thickness of a pencil, so she would have to feel it moving. She thought she had seen dark purple markings on its back. Pursing her lips, she grabbed hold of her hand again and squeezed.
Out popped the caterpillar again. It spun around, wiggling all its legs, though rather than angrily Leylia couldn't help but think they were wiggling in fear and panic. Still, she squeezed harder, pushing more of the worm out. After an inch, there were no more legs, and when she turned her hand upside down and started to shake it back and forth while applying so much pressure it hurt, the worm popped out but latched onto her thumb with three little claws on its rear end.
"The hell are you?" Leylia asked as it swiveled around to look up at her with two, tiny purple eyes that she hadn't noticed before. She felt her stomach cringe, it was pretty gross, and there was now a trickle of blood coming out of the hole in her hand. It squeaked, pushing itself down so it became fatter.
Leylia saw that the markings on its back looked strangely like tiny wings. This had to do with that strange doctor she met last week. With a huff, Leylia dug through her bag for her tin of mints, dumped the three mints out, then held her thumb over the tin. The worm wiggled to look down, then looked back up at her.
"Look," she said, feeling crazier by the minute, "I don't know what you are, and so I'm going to find out. Get in there and I'll go as fast as I can."
The worm clicked its jaws together, then squeaked and pogo-hopped into the tin. Leylia blinked. Then, feeling guilty that she considered to snap the tin shut, left it slightly open, cradled it in her hand, and sprinted the rest of the way home. By the time she reached the doctor's house next to hers, she was only breathing marginally heavier. She looked down at the tin; the worm was peaking out at her from the space she had left open under the tin lid.
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