Metamorphosis- Creative Writing

Metamorphosis- Creative Writing
He glanced out of the window, watching the sky turning from a deep
blue shade to a clear, blue, breezy morning. ?A good day.? He made a
mental note to himself. The sun baked through the curtains, sharpening
his enormous shadow. He thought of that fussy factory owner and
sighed. ? What am I going to say? Hello, Mr. Martin. I?m afraid I
can?t meet you in the hotel this afternoon. Guess what! I have had a
terrible twist of fate and have turned into a big, juicy vermin! And
then he would reply: How nice! Mr. Samsa, have you got tentacles
growing from your baldhead as well? That is so insane!? Gregor
couldn?t help chuckling to himself at this thought, interrupted by the
creaking noise from the landing outside his room. ?It?s nearly time
for breakfast.? Had he known what would happen, he might have done
something else. Instead, he followed his dull routine, as if all the
days in the world were still to come. He remembered promising his
family to move to a larger house and giving them a better life. But
now! He explored his body like an infant. His legs were so limber that
he could stretch them and put them over his head, as if he was still a
child. He punched at his horribly hard belly and his stomach twitched
painfully.
His brain is full of confusion. All sorts of sound were rushing into his ears: The greetings on the street, the doorbell rung by the boy who delivered the newspaper and milk, and what troubled him most was the clinking sound of the plates and forks, which meant breakfast would be ready in no time. He wanted so much to sleep through these sounds like a lullaby, to escape from reality. He wondered how on earth the surroundings could be as peaceful as always, when such revolting changes happened to him. ?God knows what are they going to do!? He tried to speak, but nothing except raspy air came out from his throat. He struggled to find comfort for his back, and couldn?t help wincing. He heaved a sigh of agony and placed his head on the pillow, lied on his back, rather uncomfortably, closed his beady eyes and speechlessly waited for that moment to arrive. Heavy footsteps ware approaching. Their shoes clap rhythmically on the floor. He knew he must face it. ?Greg!? It?s time for breakfast! Annie is staying for dinner tonight!? He would have responded but it seemed that he had lost the ability to speak. His heart raced very badly. His mother knocked again. ?Greg?? Gregor looked at the doorknob, secretly wishing that it would never be turned. Now he heard conversation and the next moment the door flung open, revealing the affectionate couple, standing consciously in the hallway, half peering into the messy bedroom. He bolted upright. Through his dark eyes Gregor saw the couple petrified and wordless. They seemed too stun to stare and they stood in disbelief. His dad?s eyes shot from the vacant bed to the giant vermin and sneered at him. After a long moment his mum cried softly.? Do you hear me Greg?? There was no sound except the heavy heartbeat of the both of them. Greg didn?t realise how this happened but the next instant his tentacles was pulled and his whole body lifted up and swung. He landed on his bed and found an inexplicable pain growing inside his head. He wouldn?t fight back. The pain slowly became impossible to endure. ?You chewed my only son in bits didn?t you? I am going to slash you into pieces!? Gregor closed his eyes. ?Let it be.? He thought. ?There is no way but this.? He started summoning both vivid and indistinct memories. ?Should be time.? Gregor opened one of his closed eyes and peered through his eyelashes and what he saw was his dad, whom he had respected since the day he was born, holding a chopper with trembling hands and his mum gazing at him with an expression, which he had barely known, and it was hard to tell. ? If that will make you happier, please kill me. The only thing that I am regret about is me, as a son, has brought you too many miseries.? Once again he shut his eyelids but then he heard an unmistakable woman?s voice. ?No?don?t! I..I?th..think he is our son!? ?How do you know? You can?t possibly tell can you?? ?Wait?I think I know what to do.? His mum walked over to him and bent down slightly. ?Now, Greg. What is in the treasure box in the secret attic?? The next moment he was struck by a thought, something that he could never forget. He remembered the fragments of the vase that was locked away safely in the attic. He remembered the little secret that he shared only with his mum, when he was still an innocent little child. Her voice was soothing. He was now incapable of anything but calm, like a child in the cradle of its mother?s arms. Slowly, Gregor struggled to his feet with great difficulty, and stumbled over to the stairs. He climbed the stairs with his fragile legs and finally he pushed the trapdoor open by his armour-like back. He searched through the long since forgotten memories and eventually he found the little box that hid his carelessness. A sob was echoing in the quiet, old attic. ?See? Greg! What if you killed him? Oh son! Why are you in such a state!? Nobody spoke until a kid?s voice coming from nowhere broke the silence. ?Wow! Such a good show!? Said the voice. ?I would have stopped you when you nearly killed him, I bet you.? The three of them were perplexed, bewildered and dumbstruck. ?Oh well?I should have explained more. I am working on my coursework for my drama gcae (General Certificate for Angel?s Education). So you see. That?s why I need a? umm?demonstration. I deliberately turned your son into a vermin and studied your reactions. I should apologize?and look! Gregor Samsa found himself crawling on the dusty floor with an expression that resembled a survived encounter. The horrible white spotted brown belly and his many legs were never to be seen again.

Metamorphosis- Creative Writing 8 of 10 on the basis of 2955 Review.