The Parasite

Joem received the Holy Parasite in his twenty-fifth year. That was later than usual, but Joem had put it off for some years. He had never wanted it. However, the years of pressure about duty to family and community wore him down. Finally, he made the trip to the High Temple.

Joem tried not to shudder at the sight of what would be joined to him; a shapeless lump of chitin and slimy, gelatinous flesh, twice as big as his head. As the Temple attendants held him down, the priests placed it on his bare back. Joem struggled at its touch, it felt like all the filth and disease in the world had coalesced into that slimy lump.

For a short while the lump just lay repulsively on Joem’s back. Then suddenly he winced in pain as filaments grew out of the lump and burrowed into his flesh. At several spots on his back and sides Joem felt a deep, burning itch. Barbs on the filaments dug into his body, securely fastening the lump. As the priests chanted, Joem struggled futilely against the pain and the hands that held him.

Then suddenly, it was over. The pain stopped. A priest helped Joem to his feet. As Joem rose, he found that his flexibility was limited slightly, but there wasn’t too much difference. There was an unusual weight on his back, but not much more than usual. I can live with this, Joem thought to himself.

The attendants helped Joem dress while the High Priest touched his head in blessing. “You now bear the Holy Parasite,” he told him, “may what has been joined together today never be sundered.



For a few months Joem grew used to the presence of the Parasite. It hindered his movements slightly, but never to affect his life in a major way. Sometimes his muscles stiffened up a little, causing Joem some discomfort. Still, for a while it was nothing he couldn’t ignore.

Then, after those first few months, the pain began. Again, it started small; a slight twinge of muscle, a mild ache, a burning itch that went away quickly. Every so often Joem felt a sharp, stabbing pain where one of the filaments had dug in on the first day. These incidents were extremely uncomfortable, but they passed quickly enough that Joem was usually able to disregard them.

But the pain lasted longer and grew more intense until Joem couldn’t ignore it anymore. It spread throughout the rest of his body along with a constant squirming sensation. Daily now, he felt more tendrils burrow into his back, neck and sides; more muscles forcibly stiffened into immobility.

One night, due to the pain and unpleasant sensations, Joem could not sleep. After hours of tossing and turning he had enough. Joem pulled himself out of bed and to the cooking area, where he grabbed the sharpest knife. Then he stepped outside and prepared to plunge it into the thing on his back.

“What the hell are you doing?” It was Father.

“I’m getting rid of this damn thing.” Father grabbed him and took the knife away. Then he dragged him inside, yelling.

“You cannot get rid of the Holy Parasite!”

“But it hurts,” screamed Joem. “I’m in constant agony! I can’t even sleep!”

“That doesn’t matter,” yelled Father, “your duty is to bear it no matter what!”

The yelling woke Mother and Sister, who came to investigate. When told, they, too, tore into Joem. All three harangued him until he promised never to try to remove the Parasite. Just before dawn, Joem managed to close his eyes for a few hours of restless slumber.


Over the next few weeks the Parasite went through a major growth spurt. Joem could not stand up straight anymore due to the weight. It started to wriggle constantly. Eventually, Joem’s Father said it was time and took him back to the Temple.

The High Priest gave Joem a nasty looking knife. “You are to carry this with you and use it to feed the Parasite,” he told him before hustling him into the Ritual Chamber. The priests chanted and anointed the Parasite with disgusting fluids.

The vile mass shuddered, and pain wracked Joem’s body. A shrieking noise that made his teeth ache and nerves convulse rose above the chanting. It reached an ear-shattering octave, and something popped from the lump. Joem couldn’t turn his head to look, the neck muscles were too stiff. However, from the other people he had seen who had been “gifted” with the Holy Parasite he knew what would be there; a long, thin neck and tiny head, topped by compound eyes and jagged pinchers. Joem felt the head whip about for a minute, then it moved to his ear and spoke in a voice not much different from its birth scream; “feed me.”

“What?”

“I hunger. Cut some of your flesh and feed it to me.” This was too much for Joem.

“No,” he said emphatically. Immediately, everyone in the room glared at him.

“You commit a grave blasphemy,” the High Priest said sternly.

Joem’s Father yelled “it is your duty to serve the Holy Parasite! Now do as you are ordered!”

Joem wanted to stand resolute, but he was outnumbered and the pressure was too great. Reluctantly he drew the knife, and wincing, cut a three-inch thick lump of flesh out of his left arm. Joem held the lump over his shoulder and felt the pinchers take it, heard the Parasite chew and swallow it.

“That will do for now,” laughed the Parasite when it finished.


The pain and discomfort grew worse, until it was all that Joem knew. More tendrils dug deeper and deeper into him, to the point where he could feel them penetrating his very bones. The more of Joem’s flesh the Parasite devoured, the bigger it grew; and the more it grew the more flesh it demanded.

Sometimes the Parasite tore flesh from Joem Itself; like the day when, without warning, It ripped off his right ear lobe and devoured it. Most of the time, though, It demanded that Joem mutilate his flesh himself. Joem made a few more attempts at token resistance, but his community always backed the Parasite. Finally, Joem stopped saying anything, and obeyed in silence. His pain grew worse and his body was constantly covered in open wounds.

Roughly a year after Joem received the Holy Parasite, there was a new development. Joem was rudely awoken one night from the first truly restful sleep he had been able to get in a very long time.

“I hunger for flesh and bone,” said his unwanted passenger. “Feed me one of your fingers.”

“What?” demanded Joem, his voice shaking with dread, repulsion and anger.

“Cut a finger off your right hand and feed it to me. Remember, you have to obey my commands.” Joem grabbed his knife and ran out of the house. He tried to find a place where nobody would interrupt him.

“What the hell are you doing?” shrieked the Parasite, “obey me now or you will regret it!”

“No,” replied Joem. “I am not giving you any more of my flesh, and I refuse to amputate body parts for you.” Joem raised the knife and plunged it into the Parasite. The horrid organism let out a high-pitched shriek even worse than Its birth scream. The noise was unbearable, but Joem kept stabbing.

Lights started appearing in windows. People came out to investigate. Joem hastened to finish before he could be stopped, but the thing refused to die. In too short a span of time Joem was restrained by hands too strong to struggle against, try though he might.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mother stood at the front of the crowd with the rest of Joem’s family.

“He was inflicting harm upon My Holy Self,” the Parasite whined loathsomely. As one, the crowd gasped in horror.

“You have committed a grave blasphemy,” boomed the voice of the High Priest.

“He must do penance,” hissed the Parasite, “I want all of the fingers of his right hand.”

“Yes, you must to penance,” echoed the High Priest. Somebody slipped Joem’s knife into his left hand. One of the people who held Joem clutched his wrist to ensure that he wouldn’t plunge the knife back into the Parasite. Another lay Joem’s right hand on the ground and spread the fingers.

“Penance,” hissed the Parasite.

“Penance,” boomed the High Priest.

“You must obey,” yelled Joem’s family.

“Penence,” screamed the crowd, “obey!”

The hand on Joem’s left wrist let go. Joem immediately swung the knife around, but the hand caught his wrist before he could stab the Parasite. Joem’s left hand was forcibly moved so that the blade was over his right, then let go. Joem tried again several times, with no more success. Finally, the yelling of the crowd and the hissing of the Parasite filling his ears, Joem put the knife on his first finger and started to cut.

Joem winced as the blade pierced his flesh, tried not to scream as it shattered bone. With herculean effort he crunched through the bone, then grabbed the digit and snapped it off. The Parasite crunched it up and swallowed.

“Another,” it demanded.

“What?”
“I want more, and you must do penance.” Joem started to argue, but he knew it was no use. With a sigh, he put the blade to his next finger.

The Parasite made Joem chop off all five fingers, and most of the hand itself. Finally the thing was satisfied, and the crowd left for home. Joem felt only pain as he lay on the ground. He clutched the stump of what was once his right hand, and tried to ignore the victorious laughter of the Parasite.


Nearly another year passed, and not much was left of Joem. Of the parts of him not covered by the Parasite’s mass, more bone than flesh was visible. Half of Joem’s right forearm was missing, as was his left eye and most of his left foot.

Joem had been forced to remove his eye as penance for his last act of rebellion; when he had tried to escape by killing himself. Now even this escape was denied to Joem. The Parasite was completely rooted in his bone and muscle, and controlled his every movement like some grotesque puppeteer. Joem’s consciousness was still there, but his body no longer belonged to him.

On his last day Joem stumbled down the road, hunched over and limping. Suddenly, he tripped and fell to the ground. The Parasite brutally tried to yank him onto his feet again; but Joem was exhausted and in agony, and he used the very last of his strength to stay down.

The Parasite hissed and clamped Its pinchers on the back of Joem’s head. Joem’s last act of defiance was a moan of pain as the Parasite broke open his skull and started to devour his brain. For a half hour the Parasite worked, consuming Joem’s brain matter and digging Itself into his battered carcass. Then, Joem rose to his feet again. But the Thing that rose and lurched back to town was not the man who had fallen.