Edward R. Ricciuti

A spectral shark lurks in the backwaters of my consciousness. It is an image that is ill defined but always there, like a phantom half hidden in a forgotten corner, ready to reveal itself when the time is appropriate.

I was diving in a shallow cove at Yabucoa, Puerto Rico, when I saw a worm of gorgeous color creeping across a patch of sand on the bottom. It was about half a foot long, and it had reddish pink sides and bore white tufts of bristles along its entire length. It was a fireworm... a species described as capable of serious stings. Forgetting that I was not wearing gloves... I reached for the worm to take a better look at it. I had barely picked up the creature when I dropped it quickly, realizing that I was gloveless; but several of the bristles, as fine as spun glass slivers, had already stuck to the thumb and first two fingers of my right hand. I was out of the water within a minute, and already the pain had begun to spread through my fingers. It felt as if hot needles were penetrating my flesh, but I could see no marks to indicate where the bristles had entered... within an hour the pain had radiated up my arm to my shoulder...