Metamorphosis
In the stillness of dawn, I awoke to a body alien and grotesque. My limbs, twisted and jointed in ways unnatural, moved with a new, horrifying will. The once familiar skin now encased in a hard, unyielding shell, like a prisoner in an insect's armor. Antennas, foreign and twitching, brushed the air, tracing the invisible contours of my despair.
Once a man, driven by dreams and duty, now reduced to skittering on the floor, eyes reflecting the world in fractured, kaleidoscopic horror. Each segment of my vision held a shard of my sorrow, a piece of my humanity, now splintered and discarded.
The family's gaze pierced through me, a cruel blend of pity and revulsion, their love twisted into something unrecognizable. Each meal, a bitter ritual, a silent testament to the creature they barely tolerated. Their whispered conversations, the closed doors, all spoke of their discomfort, their desire to erase the abomination I had become.
Isolation wrapped around me, a suffocating blanket as days bled into endless night. The transformation was not just of flesh, but of spirit, a slow decay of what once was human. The vibrant light of my former self dimmed, flickered, and was finally snuffed out, leaving only a hollow shell.
In the darkness, I surrendered to my fate. The final moments were a blur of past memories, now distant and dreamlike. I welcomed the end, the cold, dark oblivion, a release from the relentless torment of my existence. The insect's body stilled, and with it, the last vestige of me faded into the void.
