It began like any other warm afternoon in a small Texas town. The air was heavy with humidity, the kind that clings to your skin, and the sky grew darker with clouds that promised a storm. People hurried indoors, expecting rain. But when the first drops fell, something was wrong.
The sound wasn’t the soft patter of water on rooftops. It was sharper, heavier, as if something solid was hitting the ground. A woman stepping onto her porch screamed. She wasn’t being soaked by rain — she was being pelted by worms.
Yes, worms.
Slimy, wriggling earthworms fell from the sky, slapping onto car hoods, sidewalks, and rooftops. Some landed on windshields, smearing across the glass as wipers desperately tried to brush them away. Children cried out in confusion while parents pulled them inside. Farmers stood in their fields staring upward, open-mouthed, as hundreds — maybe thousands — of worms carpeted the ground.
Phones came out immediately. Videos flooded social media: worms wriggling in puddles, worms dangling from trees, worms plastered against windows. “Is this the end times?” someone wrote. Another caption read simply: “It’s raining worms in Texas.”
Within hours, news stations picked up the story. Scientists were called to explain what was happening. Meteorologists pointed out that similar bizarre “animal rains” had been reported in history: frogs in Serbia, fish in Japan, even spiders in Australia. The most common theory was that powerful updrafts — mini tornadoes or water spouts — sucked creatures from the ground or lakes, carrying them into the clouds before dropping them miles away.
But there was a problem with that explanation here. No nearby lakes. No storms violent enough to lift soil or water from the ground. And yet, worms had poured from the sky like confetti.
Some scientists tried to dismiss it. Maybe it was a prank, they suggested. Maybe someone dumped buckets of worms from a plane. But witnesses insisted it came with the storm — the sky itself seemed to release them.
Days later, the mystery only deepened. Samples of the worms were collected, and though they looked like ordinary earthworms, they weren’t identical to local species. In fact, some genetic markers suggested they might not even belong to the region at all. How had they appeared in Texas skies? Where had they come from?
Even now, residents shake their heads when they talk about it. One man swears he saw the worms twisting as they fell, as if alive in the air. A teacher recalls her entire school playground turning into a carpet of writhing bodies. And a farmer said his soil hasn’t been the same since — richer, darker, as if the worms had brought something with them.
The official reports remain cautious. Unexplained weather phenomenon, one scientist wrote. Likely caused by unusual air currents, said another. But no one has provided a real explanation.
And so the question lingers: did nature simply play one of its strangest tricks, or did something else — something we can’t yet explain — send those worms falling from the sky?
One thing is certain: in Texas, when the clouds darken, people no longer just look for rain. They wonder what else might be waiting above.
