Still Working on My Novel

March 2026 short story of the month

Wormly woke tied to a bed in an unfamiliar room.

****

Every member of the frat house high-fived him as they walked into the house. Without paused, the house president started chanting for him.

Soon the foyer was filled with the sound of “Wormly! Wormly! Wormly!” On repeat.

Wormly smiled and waved at every one as he pushed his way through the crowd. He got to the stairs and sighed, not that anyone could hear him. He hated being called “Wormly.” His last name was Werle. Pronounced “where-ell.” But his pledge year, when they called out names, the person had mispronounced his name, he’d tried to correct them, but it stuck. He hated it.

He didn’t want to seem too stand-offish though, so before he got all the way back to his room, he turned and pumped his fist in the air. After all, he had helped them win. He deserved some recognition.

When his fist reached the air, they broke out in a cheer. It was deafening, and he used the chance to break away and hide in his room. Within second, the speakers were pumping out music that mostly sounded like a bass line and within a matter of minutes, the drinks were being poured and the frat was well on its way to being drunk.

He flopped onto his bed and sighed again. He was happy for them — he really was. He was just tired. Sometimes knowing the future was a terrible burden.

There were times, like today, when he told someone the truth about the future and they listened to him. It didn’t often go that way though.

For some reason, if you looked at someone and told them what their future held, and possible ways they could avoid it, they thought you were crazy and ignored you. That’s the way it went 98% of the time. 

Last night while they were sitting casually in the living room playing Madden, he’d told the chapter president how to win the contest. He hadn’t said anything about how he knew how to win. He’d phrased it as theoretical, and they had listened. Today they claimed their victory. Maybe he needed to take a new approach with telling the future to get more results. He knew people would mostly still ignore him, but sometimes the compulsion to tell someone about their fate was so strong, he couldn’t do anything else until he’d told the person every excruciating detail.

He mulled it over. He couldn’t decide how his mother had dealt with this “gift” her whole life. His grandmother used to call it their family “curse,” and Wormly often felt his grandmother truly understood his point of view. He couldn’t call her though. She had passed away a year ago.

He called his mother instead. She dealt with the visions too, and even though she was always upbeat and positive, he needed to talk with someone who had an inkling of what he was going through.

She answered before the first ring had even finished.

“Hey kiddo! How are you?”

He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was smiling. She was always smiling. “Hey, Mom. I need to ask you something.”

She laughed a bit. “I know.”

It was her favorite joke, even though they both knew that’s not how it worked. They didn’t see EVERYTHING about the future. It was just glimpses, and they couldn’t predict when it would happen. She might have seen this phone call, but he doubted it. “Ha. Funny every time,” he said as dead pan as he could manage. In reality, it made him smile that he knew she was going to say it, but not because of their powers. He knew because he knew her.

“What’s eatin’ ya?” She asked.

“Well, I’ve been trying to help people, like you taught me, but no one takes me seriously. To be honest, I don’t blame them, but the visions won’t leave me be until I act on them. Does that make sense?”

“Of course.” She sighed. “The only thing you can do is tell the person. What they do with the information is up to them.”

“I know that, but what’s the point if everyone just assumes I’m crazy and ignores me. I’ve had some really hostile reception lately.”

“I see,” she answered. “Still, just do what you know is right. People are contrary and fickle and even when they should, they rarely take advice.”

He was actually kind of shocked at her answer. It wasn’t like her to say anything negative about anyone. “Okay, thanks, I guess. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks for spring break.”

“Can’t wait.” There was a pause. “And son…” she never finished her sentence.

“What?”

“Nevermind. I should let you get back to having fun. See you in a couple of weeks.”

He didn’t like that she didn’t say what she’d wanted to. That wasn’t like her either. He shrugged it off though. She was probably just going to say some cliche platitude and knew he wouldn’t like it.

He lay there trying not to dwell. He should listen to his mother and just do his best. People could listen or not; there wasn’t much he could do. It still bothered him, as did his conversation with his mother. The longer he lay there, the more he was bothered by both trains of thought.

He couldn’t take it any longer. He needed to move around and distract himself. He heard the party going on in the house and knew he could easily slip away with no one the wiser.

He left without a further thought. He didn’t hesitate. He walked for several blocks. He wanted to find a place that wasn’t swarming with more college students.

Several blocks from campus, he saw a bar that looked like it catered more to locals. It didn’t have the garish lighting or over abundance of tvs that college bars seemed to have. He parked himself at the bar about midway down.

He ordered round after round and didn’t let his brain dwell too much. He let the beer take over.

Somewhere between his fourth and seventh beer, an attractive woman sat down next to him. She didn’t speak to him. She, like him, just kept ordering the same beer and drinking in silence.

“I just don’t understand why no one wants to know their future,” he said to his beer. He took a drink and tapped the glass on the counter. “Empty again. Bad luck.”

The woman sitting next to him was finally drunk enough to stop ignoring him. “I want to know mine.” She also drank the last of her mug down and looked saddened by the empty glass staring back at her. “I keep making the worst choices with men.”

He nodded. He reached over and placed his hand on hers. A vision didn’t come. “Well, apparently it’s not working tonight.”

“Figures,” she said and sighed. “I should call it a night anyway before I make another bad decision.” She motioned to the bar tender. She settled her tab. She patted Wormly on the shoulder. “Don’t spend too much time dwelling on the future. The present is crappy enough as it is.”

He couldn’t have said it better himself. He didn’t remember ordering more beer, but he must have.

He woke up, opened his eyes slowly trying to not give his headache more power, but he couldn’t more his arms. Light was coming into unfamiliar curtains.

Where was he? He looked around as best as he could while still laying down.

He was in what appeared to be a cheap motel of some sort. He needed to pee, and his headache was getting worse.

He couldn’t move his legs either. Someone had tied him up. Why would they want him?

The door to the bathroom opened as he heard a flush. He turned his head and squinted.

“You?” He asked, even more confused by what was happening.