Author: Mark Renney

There is no way to get rid of me, not once I take hold unless the host, and that is you, is versed in an ancient lore that has already been lost for centuries. Well? No, you can’t be free of me, not now I have wormed my way in.
I will settle in your gut, somewhere warm and fetid. I don’t need to grow but I do have to change and the Adaptation is a lengthy process. It is important that I am comfortable and have the space to stretch and weave my way.
If this sounds in any way subtle rest assured that it isn’t. But then you already know this – after all you are the host although I have always had a problem with this word. Host doesn’t seem the correct way to describe what is happening to you and what you are about to become. It seems to imply that some essence of you will remain and that it is possible you may return, but this isn’t the case. I will take everything and there is no coming back. When I am finished with you and it is time to move on, all I will leave behind is a broken shell.
You are all too aware of me now, lodged in the pit at your centre. I needle my way in, and you feel it in each and every one of your sinews, and with every breath that you take and it is painful, excruciatingly painful. The last thing I will take is your mind, but just before I do and the Adaptation is complete and I rise to the surface you will feel the slightest of shivers, just fleetingly for a few seconds.
It is the last of you.