This is an alternate sequel to The Metamorphosis that I wrote, to show the conflict and how it could have been changed.
~*~
“Gregor hasn’t been getting any better.. if anything his body is deteriorating,” came the muffled whisper from the closed door. His family was having a discussion after dinner, as became custom since Gregor’s sudden transformation.
“What can we do about it? The doctor ran away, and I’ve certainly lost all hope for any miracle,” came the even quieter voice of his mother. Gregor sighed, a deep, mournful sigh that said everything he couldn’t with his inhuman vocal cords.
“What was that?!” cried his sister Grete, “I’m tired of him making those God-awful noises! I can’t take it anymore!”
“Be quiet, and snap out of it! If you’d help me find a solution we won’t have to worry about noises, and my poor Gregor would be back to normal.” Mrs. Samsa scolded her daughter.
After some bickering, and an overwhelming amount of frustration, Gregor’s usually obnoxiously boisterous father finally spoke up.
“I’ve got an idea,” Mr. Samsa started, “but it’ll mean going to an unlikely source for help. And, honestly, theres no guarantee that it won’t kill him.”
“It doesn’t matter, we have to try everything. It doesn’t matter the risk....”
Gregor, disgusted with his family and having heard enough, crawled away from his bedroom door and found solitude under his couch, instantly passing out into a deep, dreamless sleep.
*~*~*
Grete rushed into the Gypsy shop that was located in the middle of the ghetto in Prague. Having already been frightened by some figures standing near a dark alley a couple blocks down, Grete welcomed the eerie shop. It smelled faintly of incense, with it’s whole back wall being shelves that was shared equally between books and countless vials filled with strange liquids.
“Hello...?” she quietly said, suddenly feeling very out of place in this strange shop.
“Welcome. How may I be of service?” Came a smooth voice from behind her.
Startled, Grete whirled around and her hand flew to her heart. “Ohh!” She shrieked, “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry,” said a young man, seated at a circular table in the corner of the shop. Repeating his previous question, Grete remembered her purpose and walked towards him.
Moving closer to the strange man, she lowered her voice and asked, “Actually, this may sound silly, but my family and I have no other option. There’s a rumor that Gypsies are able to make potions to heal any kind of illness--is this true?”
The strange, yet strikingly attractive man only smiled for an answer.
“Um... well, if that’s the case I really need your help. I’ll pay whatever price.” said Grete.
“In order for me to help you, don’t you think it’d be wise to tell me what the person is suffering from?” the Gypsy man told Grete.
“Oh, right. Well, to be frank, my brother has turned into a giant beetle. It happened about a month ago....”
“Ah, I see. No more, I don’t need to know anymore,” said the strange man as he began making his way towards the bookshelf in the back of the room. “It should be in this book,” he mumbled to himself as he began thumbing through the pages. Half-way through, he stopped on a page and almost immediately started pulling vials off the shelves.
“Here it is,” he said as he was reaching for a vial on the top shelf, “there’s about a fifty percent chance that this will completely cure the little ‘problem’ that your brother has. But, I warn you, if it doesn’t work he will die... I don’t know if you are willing to take that chance.”
Not even in a span of a second, Grete replied, “It doesn’t matter the cost. We can’t take it anymore, whether he lives or not. One way or the other, there has to be a change.”
Taken aback at her quick reply, the handsome Gypsy only shook his head and continued to mix different vials together for Gregor’s remedy.
*~*~*
“Mother! Where are you?!” yelled Grete as she slammed the front door to their apartment closed with her foot. Holding the gypsies remedy in a paper bag with both hands, she ran to the dining room and placed in on the table.
Looking up from her sewing, Mrs. Samsa gave her daughter a quizzical look. Mr. Samsa was fast asleep in the rocking chair, but was startled at the slamming door. “What’s all the commotion?” he grumbled.
“Is that what I think it is? They actually could make a cure for Gregor?” Mrs. Samsa asked skeptically, while putting her sewing needle down. “Jim, come and look.”
A loud complaint from the chair and a grunt later, Mr. Samsa was standing next to his daughter and wife, looking at the brown paper bag in the middle of the table.
“The Gypsy said that there’s a fifty percent chance this will cure Gregor.” Grete said as her mother caught her eye.
“We have to try,” said Mr. Samsa. Puffing out his chest and standing erect, his voice put on a tone of authority as he told the family that the cost didn’t matter, even if it meant taking Gregor’s life in the process.
“I agree, Father. I’m tired of this.”
“Gregor isn’t going to willingly take it,” came the families delicate logical member, “we’ll have to entice him into it.”
“Cheese! He can’t resist cheese! How about we pour the potion in a bowl, and let the cheese float on top of it. There’s no way he won’t eat it.” Grete excitedly said, as she started going towards the kitchen.
Mr. and Mrs. Samsa shared a look that said everything they couldn’t, Mrs. Samsa’s eyes full of worry, while her husbands were nonchalant.
“Whatever happens, Elizabeth, it’ll be okay.” Mr. Samsa said to his wife in an inconsiderate tone. “If he dies, it’s for the better. I don’t want a dung beetle for a son. He’s an abomination.”
A crash from the kitchen broke their tension, and Grete called out to her mother.
“Mom, you know the vase you got last Christmas?”
Mrs. Samsa sighed, already knowing what happened. “Just forget it Grete, hurry up with the cheese and bowl.”
Coming through the kitchens swinging door with her hands full of different sized bowls, Grete laid them all on the table. “Take your pick.”
“Let’s just get this over with already,” Mr. Samsa grumbled as he reached for a random bowl, giving it to his wife.
“Okay, now.. All Gregor has to do is drink some of it. I’ve got the cheese,” Grete said as she placed it in a bowl, “give me the potion.”
Taking it out of the paper bag, Mrs. Samsa helped her daughter pour it so the cheese was on top. Smiling to herself, and wishing for the best, she comforted her mother with a hug, and started towards Gregor’s room.
*~*~*
The next morning, the eyes that opened were no longer a flat black bug-eye, but striking blue eyes welling up with tears at the realization that he was no longer a beetle, but was freed from the horrible prison that he was trapped in for the past month.
“Everythings okay now.” he whispered to himself as a tear made a trail down his face, drying up just before reaching his smile.