Pupil Worm
He had been thrashing about in his bed, and the itching beneath his eyelid had kept him awake for hours. No longer convinced that the itching was due to a simple allergy problem, he stepped out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, feeling his way around a wardrobe to make it through the opening which didn’t feature a door.
The man had been rubbing his eye, and assumed it would be red when he looked in the mirror, so without even looking, he whipped it open with his free hand and pulled the eye drops out, slamming it shut and closing both of his eyes at the same time. He unscrewed the lid and prepared to place the drops in his eye.
He continued rubbing his eye with the tip of his index finger, when something that felt a little slimy slipped out on to the tip of his finger. He mused, “What the hell is this?!” and started to try and pull it out of his eye, noting that it was sticking to the tip of his finger. He continued tugging and noticed that it was becoming taught between his eyelids as he pulled.
Finally looking in the mirror, he realized that connected to the end of his finger was his pupil, or what he rationalized as his pupil (It looked more like a worm with a flat black end.) His mouth agape in terror and surprise, he saw the long slimy thing extending about an inch to his finger, draped over it with the black hole staring at his other eye. The body of the thing, a white near-translucent tube, ran to his eye and appeared to extend further in to the back of it, anchored somewhere on the inside of his skull.
He tried to scream, closing both of his eyes and forcing the air out of his lungs, but he wasn’t able to emit a sound. Stumbling back, he felt his body giving way and fell in to the bath tub, his knees folding over the edge.
At the very moment the tile hit the back of his head, he felt the sensation of being pulled through the back of his skull by an enormous invisible force. When he was finally no longer being pulled, he opened his eyes again, and immediately ran to the bathroom. On the way, he tripped on a glass paperweight that contained a scorpion which had been tortured before the creation of the tool. Falling to the left, he smashed his head on the wall mirror, a piece of the jagged broken glass falling in to the back of his neck, just under the base of his skull.
After a few moments of shock, he finally stood back up and wobbled the rest of the way to the bathroom, roughly pulling the large chunk of mirror out of the back of his neck; this wound was a fountain, shooting bright red blood on to the floor behind him.
He looked closely at himself in the mirror, sighing out loud, “Thank goodness my eye’s okay!”