Metamorphasis of Free Will

Charles Arnold

Soon, I reach the city, and right as I’m above I-85, my wings quickly fold in by themselves. They feel hot under my shell, and I realize they have been overused. I reach freefall and my helpless body exponentially gets closer and closer to the bustling highway by the second. Right before I hit the ground, I envision myself as just another smashed cockroach, like the ones I kill in my bedroom. Each of my six legs hit the ground, and I feel the shockwave from hitting the ground flow through them. But the shockwave keeps moving. It moves up my legs and then through my exoskeleton before finally dispersing. Before I can check to see if I’m okay, an 18-wheeler comes barreling towards me, horn at full blast. With a millisecond reaction time, I scurry as fast as I can away. I start overtaking the cars, zooming past them. Just then, I hear chopping of helicopter blades slicing through the air. When I look up, it’s not a news helicopter, but rather something much worse.

I wake up weary and drag myself to the bathroom. I reach for my toothbrush, but my fingers won’t close around it. My hand felt stiff, almost as if it wasn’t mine. After trying to grab my toothbrush for some time, I realize I can’t feel my teeth either. As panic surges through my body, I immediately glance up at the bathroom mirror. Oh, the horror… Instead of seeing my own image in the reflection, I see nothing but a dirty, glossy, twitching roach staring back at me. I try making the best of the situation and the countless possibilities of what to do next flood through my mind. “I’m no longer myself…” I think, “I’m no longer myself.” I repeat again, “I’m no longer myself!”. With this new body, I realize I can do whatever I want – free will unrestricted. I scurry out of the house, all 6 of my legs clicking against the floor. I have wings now. All my childhood dreams of being able to fly will come true now. I struggle to move my hard exoskeleton out of the way to make room for my wings to spread, but with repeated attempts, I am successful. I fly 10, 20, 30, 40 meters above my house. The world shrinks below me, and I see downtown Atlanta over the horizon. I start hovering towards the city.

A sleek military helicopter, hunkered with missiles and machine guns, hovers above me. Within a split second, it lights the sky up with fire spewing from the end of the machine gun barrel. I expect the bullets to slice through me with ease, but it rather feels like a waterjet massage on my back. However, just like my wings, I do not know how long my exoskeleton shell will hold up. I quickly scurry up the nearest skyscraper I can find, with the military helicopter close by. Right as I reach the top, I leap out at the helicopter, trying to take it down. With a swift maneuver, it swishes out of the way and prepares to fire at me. I start my wings up again and soar away from the helicopter as fast as I can. The distance between me and the helicopter soon widens. Before I can breathe a sigh of relief, a missile the size of a tree trunk roars towards me, streaking the sky with smoke.

Ella Jeon | what we need, mixed media

Short Story | Sanika Banglinti, layout design