WALUIGI’S INFINITE MALICE PALACE: 1 — “The Worm and the Water”

Langdon Hickman
Jul 24, 2017 · 2 min read

In blue-purple darkness he comes slither and grabe, a mouth a head a pair of lips impossible moustache bound to the long-thin tube of a striped blue-purple body. Wah, wah, wah, he cries in the water, mouth rattling the molecules of sea in tune with his trembling archon-mad spirit. He has glimpsed the open eye of the god of madness, gazed through the window into the grotesque churning innards of infinite memory-palace of ignorance and rage and malice deep within the dead heart of god. And so he was changed — stretched, distorted, warped.

Waluigi cackles in the dark of the sea, his mutant head too large for his too thin wormlike body. Around him are molecules pitted and caked with cavities, resembling buildings, bodies, faces, cities: places and people with names, but whose names are now lost in the water, the water that is also Waluigi, the water that once was his body but now has become unbound. All things adrift in the great waterbody of Waluigi, motes of dust in the great black of the universal sea, a black which turns to purple and to blue the closer you look, resolves itself at last to a pair of overalls, a cackling rictus, a distorted smile, a moustache like a black lightning bolt.

All held within the impossible figure of an inverted L.

Gold like the sun that does not, cannot shine anymore. Not in his bodywaters. Not wrapped in the thin perfect finger of his wormbody. No: not anymore.

Now, it is all Waluigi.

Once, perhaps, the name would have been Jormungandr. Once, perhaps, the waters would have been known as the waters that encircle the world.

But then something horrible happened. Unbound fragmented mind guided fingers to the edges of a book, a white gloved hand turned the pages, and a mass of empty paper shook and spread wide what scattered remains of consciousness and febrile human form lay mouldering within Waluigi’s wicked body. With evil and malicious heart, his figure began to morph, distorted by evil, empowered by the artifact of a world-beyond-the-world to become the world. His flesh into water, his spine into the shape of a worm.

And outside the universe, his shape always twisting, spiraling, corkscrewing, swimming. Swimming in his own waterbody, darting between the strange orbular motes that are worlds, universes, people, names. Darting, mouth open, cackling (always cackling), wah wah wah, until a catch in the teeth and another world is devoured. Devoured from outside of space and time; drank up by something greater, something wicked, something beyond.

A strange blessing that their ultimate powerlessness to the wicked malicious will of the purple archon of madness is obscured to them by the too-thick veil which shrouds their worlds and keeps their eyes firmly closed to the hideous purple worm swimming around the murk of the sea in which universes float. Forever ignorant to the worm and the water.


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Langdon Hickman

Written by

sunworshipper. voidworshipper. seek life; seek death. Treblezine, Invisible Oranges, Consequence of Sound.

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