#satt

Every night you dream that you talk to a genie, when you wake up you can't remember what you wished for. One morning you wake up with a giant crab pincer replacing your right arm. What do you do?

Celebrate the death of the queen

Every night you dream that you talk to a genie, when you wake up you can't remember what you wished for. One morning you wake up with a giant crab pincer replacing your right arm. “That damn genie,” you say. Where a familiar limb used to be, there is now a glimpse of the unknown — how quickly things can change between consciousness. The next morning, you feel yet another unfamiliarity: “Gasp!…Three legs on my right side. They’re crab legs. But there was no dream.” At that moment, you come to the gross realization that you are no longer human. So quick to dictate — are you not still human? At the very least, you are still humanoid. What isn’t up for debate is this: You’re cursed. “That damn genie,” you utter yet again.

As each day greets you with more appendages, you begin to lose sight of what once was. You reflect: “I can’t believe I’m going to die.” Surely, similar to your previous state, the shell body is but a vessel; the sensitive recluse still remains. “What about my family? What will they think?” It has yet to be seen. “Will I remember?” There is no use worrying. It is out of your control. “That damn genie,” you reply. It’s a shame what it takes for you to finally modify your ways. It is only when you are met with a horrible incident that affects you directly that you enact change. You’ve seen similar events happen to others, yet this is what it takes. Ignorant fool. Willing ignorance. Truly you are the worst of them. Perhaps the genie was right to curse you.