Small Places : Nick L Belardes [83 of 128]

• Suddenly the old man waved his walking stick like a ghetto AK-47: "It's a war these days with the bagworms. The entire forest is at risk!"
• He then turned and hobbled down the path. Each stab of his walking stick sounded like gravel was being pulverized into dust.
• For days afterward I dreamed about bagworms. I imagined a treetop worm colony living in silk purses and patent-leather homes,
• all bedazzled. In my dreams the bagworms were distressed. Each night at 10:10, booms rung through the forest,
• shook the webs, disturbed the baggy babies. After a bout of Nyquil, I dreamt a bagworm fell from a tree.
• Somehow she had an umbrella and floated to the forest floor during the booms. "I'm angry" the bagworm said.
• "There will be no more booms in this forest by the time I'm done." She marched past mushrooms as big as houses.
• Little blue glowing bugs floated across the forest floor. Green-lit snails oozed across paths of slimy light. The bagworm marched on.
• This marching, angry bagworm, was notably married to Eli Bigmoth. He ran the silk-spinning factory next to a huge zebra-striped baghouse.