Invasion of the Tooth Worms

And they shall rain from the sky — Flash Fiction [#07]

Sicque per embotum, fumum cape dente remotum
—Regimen Sanitatis Salernitanum, 1505

I was waiting for my emergency patient to arrive. Not my usual Sunday morning. It’s been a crazy week since the first worms dropped from the sky. Some say it happened before in the Middle Ages, an invasion or whatever you want to call it. The scientific community dismissed it as superstition, a myth. No one believed it. Tooth worms? How absurd. Until they rained down on us like a biblical plague.

News stations broadcast their warnings 24/7: stay indoors, barricade the windows, brush your teeth at least two times a day and after every meal and report any toothache immediately to the nearest dentist. In Albert’s case, that meant me. I prepared everything, tools, UV lamp, syringe, disinfectant and an ancient Greek herbal remedy I bought on an occult website charging fools a fortune for their nonsense.

I switched to the news on the tablet next to the dental chair: …  a State of Emergency has been declared. The military has taken control and is advancing through the city. Stay indoors and cooperate. Do not attempt to leave the city— The bell rang, and I pressed the buzzer.

“Gwen, Albert, quick, come inside. Ronald not with you?” I locked the door and ushered them into the waiting room. Gwen broke into tears. Albert stood there like a stick of chalk.

“Ronald… he… he…” Gwen sobbed.

“He stayed home?”

“His head exploded,” Albert said and sat down, staring at the wall.

Gwen nodded in despair. “Doctor Damokles, please help my Albert. One of these things… it got inside him. Please, you must save him.” Gwen grabbed me by the shoulders, her face so close I could smell the Gin on her breath.

An explosion shook the building. The white ceiling panels wobbled, some fell to the ground, and lights shattered into a million pieces. Screams from outside filled the air, and the smell of fire, burning rubber and a sweeter scent, like barbecue. Gwen cowered next to Alfred, who sat still, head turned towards the door. A hand appeared on the milky glass. A voice cried out. “Help. Please, HELP!”

The hand slammed against the glass, a woman’s voice whimpered, something big towered over it, drew near with a clicking sound, then a snarl, and with a screech, the hand disappeared. Blood splattered across the door. The grotesque silhouette lingered. A clicking of a million teeth chilled my bones. I felt toothy eyes worm their way inside my brain, and I saw armageddon unfold in all its incomprehensible vastness, and then the monstrous shape was gone.

No one moved. The explosions and screams grew faint, soon nothing more but a whisper of destruction and ruin. I exhaled, after what seemed forever, straightened and turned to Albert. “Quick, lie down on the chair,” my voice estranged by a heightened sense of urgency.

“Say Aaahhh!” I saw the hole. It looked like regular caries. “Don’t be afraid. You will feel a sharp prick from the needle, nothing to worry about.” I set the injection and counted. Albert relaxed. The anaesthesia was working. “I will drill now. Let me know if you feel anything, OK?”

Albert nodded, and I started on the infected tooth. “Turn a bit more to the left, yes, good.” The nerve was gone, eaten by the worm. I winced at the thought, but there it was, a tunnel down into the root and alongside were eggs, microscopic eggs, nestled into the cavity.

“Pincers!” I pointed.

Gwen handed me the tool. With one swift pull, I removed the worm and locked it in the jar, still alive, wriggling, a good five centimetres long, red, with hooked fangs at both ends, to burrow deep into the skull, no doubt, nesting inside the brain, taking control or, as was the case with Ronald, killing their victims. Not this time. I placed the jar on the counter.

The UV lamp revealed no other trace of any worms, and I used the sodium hypochlorite to get rid of any eggs that may have survived the drill, put the filling and closed the hole. Minutes later, I could see the colour return to Albert’s skin. Was it that easy?

“How do you feel, Albert?”

“The pain is gone,” he replied.

“The injection helps. And otherwise?”

He shrugged, his eyes darting back and forth between his mother and myself. “The worms… my dad. Was it because he had bad teeth?”

At that, Gwen sobbed and hugged Albert tight. It struck me then, if Albert was right, did that mean the worms got to the brain too fast? Gwen produced a hip flask from her handbag and took a big swig of Gin. As she drank, her skin crawled. I took a step back, shining the UV lamp on her face.

“What?” She slurred, slumping back onto the chair next to Albert. “That bad, huh? And I’m all out of Gin.”

“Mum?” Albert wiped his eyes.

“Shhh, my baby. S’alright. Doc’ll fix me. Shhh, shhh, now.” She caressed his cheek mechanically and turned to me. “Don’t let ‘em take me, Doc,” Gwen pleaded.

“Smoke them out,” I said and hurried to my cabinet, took the mini blowtorch and the package with the ancient remedy, poured it into a brass bowl and set the bundle of herbs, twigs and soggy clay ablaze, fanning the flames with the weekly medical journal on Tooth Hygiene. Smoke billowed from it, like a steam engine and set off the fire alarm. I stepped onto a chair and silenced it with the back of the blowtorch.

Soon the room was filled with thick fumes that smelled like dried bird droppings. Every breath burned in my lungs. Lightheaded and with vision blurred, I saw Gwen and Albert watching me before I passed out. When I came to, I was strapped to the orthodontic chair. My transformed hosts were looking down at me with hollow eyes.

Albert held up the open jar.

“Say Aaahhh!”

Author’s Note

Originally, this was going to be a story about an infernal dentist at the edge of Purgatory, corrupt tooth fairies and a black market for wisdom teeth. It turned into a monster of a story, and so I rewrote the whole thing, esp. after finding out about tooth worms¹ and seeing images like this:

Left: toothworm devours a man. Right: the torment of a toothache is equated with the fires of hell. German Museum for the History of Medicine, Ingolstadt. Photo Michael Kowalski.

Apart from the wormy nature of the premise, there is one other reference. Yes, it starts with “Invasion” and ends with “of the Body Snatchers” (1978), based on the 1955 SF novel by Jack Finney², originally serialized in Collier's magazine in November–December 1954.

You could also watch the 1956 version, but I find Donald Sutherland’s performance infinitely more satisfying. Whatever you do, don’t watch the 2007 remake “The Invasion.” You have been warned. Of course, there is yet another remake³ planned, due in 2025. The invasion never stops!

TFTD Community

Thank you for reading, and to all new subscribers, welcome and thank you for joining! Please say Hi in the chat or on Discord or drop me a line via email. I am always happy to hear from you.

1. see Tooth worm

2. see The Body Snatchers

3. see The Hollywood Reporter