His eyes explored his room and with his new, sharp vision he spotted all the little imperfections he had missed before. The minuscule cracks on the walls, the dust around the picture frames, the wood splitting on the door. His hearing was also supreme. He heard the paper crinkling in the trash can, the breathing of his sister in the room over, the muted patter of the rain outside.
“I should be at work.” He thought.
He waited for the urgency that he was so used to succumbing into to kick in.
Yet it didn’t.
Surprisingly Gregor Samsa didn’t care that his train had left an hour and a half ago, or that his boss’s errand boy would make sure he knew he was late.
“The boss will surely like this,” he thought “I’ll tell him what I think of him. I’ll mention how I hate his attitude and the way he sits all high and mighty on his throne. I’ll make him forget my parent’s debt to him.”
He was stunned to hear himself say this. To be so in control, so secure, gave Gregor a sense of superiority. Rather than bending to the demands of those around him he was finally listening to the person that mattered: himself.
He figured it was time to get out of bed and before he knew it he was on his feet. A mighty leap from on his back, through the air and onto his feet in just seconds after he had thought it. Remarkable. His long, sinuous tail balanced him.
A cautious rap at the door tensed his muscles and his head immediately snapped towards the source of the sound. He smelled her-his mother-as never before. He could smell everything in the apartment actually.
“Gregor,” she called “are you alright dear?”
“Mother...” he responded, not surprised to hear his voice matched how he felt. Secure, smooth and in control.
“I have been turned, by means far beyond mine or your understanding, into a beast.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath across the door. She was worried about his voice, the same, yet different.
“Gregor, let me in. You sound sick!”
“I am not sick, mother, I’m calm, and that is the difference you hear.”
“Well the supervisor has just called he is coming here to speak with you!” she screamed shrilly.
“Let him come then, I shall stay in my room until his arrival.”
He heard her walk away. In a few minutes she returned with his father and the Boss.
“Gregor! Come outside this instant!” Called the Boss.
“He must be sick, sir. You know he’s never missed a day of work.” Begged his father.
“Yes, please, be merciful. Of five years of service he has never once been late.”
“He missed the train to a very important meeting! I must speak with him immediately.” The Boss argued.
“Open the door, it’s unlocked.” Gregor said calmly.
The door opened and in walked the boss. What happened next happened very quickly. The Boss saw Gregor, lost control of his body, then slipped in it, fell and broke his wrist.
His mother saw him, her eyes wide, and then gave a splendid horror movie scream as she fainted.
His father on the other hand started beating Gregor with a broomstick yelling
“Give me back my son you beast!!”
Gregor gently pushed his father away, only to put him through the wall and into the living room. He stooped over the Boss, who was cringing inches beneath his razor sharp teeth.
“You will forget my parent’s debt to you, and you will leave my house at once.” He annunciated very carefully.
“Y-y-yes, of course!” Stammered the Boss, as he stood up and ran out of the apartment.
Gregor stepped out into the hallway. The walls and ceiling were too small for his 11 foot frame, so he stooped to get out of his room. At this instant his mother awakened, saw Gregor once more and ran out into the living room screeching “My poor Gregor!!”
“Grete!” He called, having forgotten his sister in all the tumult.
“Gregor?” He spun around, although clumsily.
His sister was behind, her head cocked to the side. “Is that you?”
He lowered his triangular head toward her. She lifted her hand warily and placed it on his snout.
“Grete,” he said again. “I must look horrible.”
“You look…different.”
“Mother and Father are scared.”
Suddenly something hard hit his back. He spun, growling, and accidently threw Grete back with his sweeping tail. There stood his father, a fruit basket in one hand and his other arm cocked back ready to launch another apple at him.
“Stay away from my daughter! You won’t eat her too!!” And he threw the apple.
Gregor knew he needed to stay calm, or his father could very well become the victim rather than the attacker. So as he was pelted with fruit he scrambled back into his room and closed the door.
“Grete!!” Yelled his father, as Gregor heard him run down the hall to where he knew she lay on the floor, dead, because of him.
He walked over to the mirror and stared at himself until it was dark…
Gregor Samsa, awakening from agitated dreams, found himself, on his bed, turned into…nothing.
“Weird dream…” Gregor thought. “It felt so good to be so assertive though.”
As he turned over he saw that it was 4:00 A.M.
“Perhaps one day, I’ll learn how to be so confident, but for now, I have a train to catch.”
