“You can stop laughing now, Dick.”

Fogwarth ignored me and continued his irritating laughter. It was deep and bellowing, like a howl from deep within a cave. For a moment I truly hoped more tigers attacked just to buy me a moment of silence. He had thoroughly enjoyed my Bug’s Life theory, insisted on also hearing the Ants theory - which had been almost identical to the prior - and then finally could not hold it in any longer as I began the Honey I Shrunk The Kids Theory. Needless to say I was disappointed that the one thing about this world I thought I had figured out was wrong.

“Oh dear,” Fogwarth said through his laughter, finally allowing it to die as he wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh my. That was rich, sir berry. And these theories are viewed by millions in your world? How delightful!”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “You’re missing the point. The short explanation is that in my world tigers are way larger than any inch worm-“

“Spanworm,” he interrupted.

“Okay. Spanworm. Regardless, you would be the size of a single tiger claw at most, and probably even smaller than that. So yes, asshole. I had assumed that we were all just small. I mean I’m a damn blueberry and I’m a third of your size! How does that make sense?”

We had continued our journey unbothered by any further creatures so far, and it seemed like we were slowly passing through the last stretch of the underbrush. Luckily, explaining the plots of two and a half movies seemed to really pass the time, though I’ll admit I didn’t have a perfect recollection of nearly 30 year old children’s films. As we made our way through I took in as much of the surroundings as possible, trying to understand how I had been so wrong with my assessment.

The grass was towering, easily the height of the average tree, and the bushes back in the orchard were like skyscrapers. The idea that there were, somehow, still regular sized bushes and trees and grass elsewhere just made my berry mind turn into jelly.

“Mothric has been lucky enough to stand on the grounds of what was known as the Ever-Flora,” Fogwarth began after clearing his throat. “Unlike the vast world around us, this mystical place encourages the colossal growth you now see before you. Truly a marvel. The soil is saturated in the ambient power, and the orchard was crafted atop an ancient source of radiance that emits such great power that no sorcerer could ever hope to obtain! My people say it was laid by long dead Gods to spur the growth of the world itself!”

“And there are humans here?” I asked.

We began down a particularly bumpy path and I found myself bouncing all around in my backpack harness, really hoping I wouldn’t tumble out. It seemed like the path was getting steep and I wasn’t feeling confident I could avoid being smashed from two falls in rapid succession. I still chalked it up to pure luck that I wasn’t at least partially damaged from the earlier fall.

“There are humanoid forms, yes. I myself am currently of the insectoid evolutionary stage, however there are other options and paths that present themselves. Our Oracle should be able to explain it in greater detail than myself, you will see. Oh! Hold on tightly, sir berry!”

“Hold on?! How?!” I shouted right before the bumpy ride became a nightmare freight train.

We began tumbling down the steep path at terminal velocity. The world around me spun in technicolor, a nauseating blend of greens, browns, and blues. I shouted and it sounded like a chord played on a rubber band as my own voice came and went with each circle. Fogwarth was… laughing? The maniac inch worm was howling with joy as his body curled into a tire shape and treated the massive hill like a motocross track.

I wanted to scream and make it all stop, but instead I almost tossed up my internal blueberry guts with each intense wave of nausea

Amongst the fog that was the world around us I began to see new colors and shapes take form. Something dark and gray, with harder shapes and pointed edges. It became a dark spot in my swirling vision that I desperately tried to fixate on.

“Fogwarth! Stop this fucking thing!” I finally screamed.

“Prepare yourself, sir berry!” He answered.

I could do nothing at all to prepare myself. I was a berry, and now a backpack.

We slammed into a huge stalk of some kind and halted our momentum. Dazed didn’t quite cover what I had experienced at that moment. My world spun. It was equivalent to beginning to get black out drunk, while on a merry-go-round, but multiplied tenfold. I closed my eyes and just let the darkness spin for several moments until it began to slow down and become centered again. After reopening them, I realized I had fallen from my harness and was now several feet from the floppy, laughing, maniacal inch worm.

“I don’t know what you think is so funny,” I called out, staring up at the midday sun.

Fogwarth calmed himself and said through his dying laughter, “it gets a little better every time! I have not made such a trip with a passenger before!”

“Yeah, great. Can you come and get me or what? I fell out of the sling,” I answered, watching clouds drift across a pale blue sky.

“Yes, yes. Do not fret, sir berry. We will be back on our way in no time at all!”

The inchworm got back up on his feet and had a good stretch, then began to collect his swords and helmet that had been strewn about after the impromptu landing maneuver. As Fogwarth gathered himself back up, I just stared out at the empty sea of sky and let my thoughts consume me.

Why me?

That was the question that hung at the end of my berry tongue every second I was in this place. Why me? Why this? It had to be a punishment of some kind, I didn’t care what the inchworm said. If this was a regular thing in this world or whatever, then why did I not come back as some actual creature? Instead I was cursed from the moment I opened my eyes. Doomed to be at the whim of a caretaker until I shriveled and died, unless I evolved.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

This was maddening. Part of me still held hope that I was high off my ass on pain meds in some hospital.

But I could smell. I could hear. I could feel. Those senses kept me grounded in my belief that this wasn’t a dream, wasn’t a simulation. It was real. I was really being punished as some immobile bush fruit living in a world of intelligent insects who happen to use me as a primary food source.

Sure. I had been shit in life. I’ll admit it. I drank minutes away. I told crude jokes. I hit on married women. But was I bad enough for this new existence? Let’s see… I always put my cart back at the grocery store. At a four-way stop sign I always flag other people ahead instead of going, even if I was first. I left food out for stray cats. That had to be worth something, right?

“There we are, sir berry,” Fogwarth said, coming over and roping me up again. “Off we go.”

“Thanks, foggy. How much longer until we get there?”

He laughed again, then turned me around to face whatever he was staring at. “Not too much longer I should think.”

Holy shit. A fucking castle. Like, a real fucking castle. Not mud or sticks, not some structure fashioned out of plants. Dark, weathered stone so dark they could be black, huge turrets that rose like two great pillars toward the sky, even taller than the bushes. The roof came to several different jagged points like a dead king’s tarnished crown, and there were a few glistening red stained windows that caught the sun’s glow like sizzling embers.

It was gorgeous. Breathtakingly gorgeous. Shockingly gorgeous. If not a bit… Hot Topic goth for a group of inchworm people. I could not picture the humorous, squishy, strange Fogwarth living in such a place. Maybe a lich king, or a grim reaper, or a civilization of skeletons, but not Fogwarth who still had blueberry juice smeared on his cheeks.

“Castle Mothric,” Fogwarth said with a sense of comfort in his tone. “A true marvel. The gem of our fair orchard, and a prize for any would-be armed force to attempt to claim. It’s true magnificence awaits us inside of its darkened walls, sir berry. So let us make haste to see my father and the court oracle!”

“I suppose you would seek our father first, Flightless,” a sultry, poisonous voice crept out of the tall brush surrounding us. “The underdog son forever seeking approval of an alpha.”

“Sister,” Fogwarth acknowledged, his tone unflinching.

I scanned the surroundings but could still only see the distant carving of the castle amongst the skyline. My peripheral revealed nothing since Fogwarth hadn’t moved me just yet. Still, I could hear the sibling rivalry well enough just in their brief exchange.

“On your way with more gifts and glory for father, are we?”

I heard the barely audible sound of her footsteps against the dirt, approaching us from behind. Hers were long strides, with a breath between each step. Must be two legs then, unless it were more and she had been walking at a very slow pace. I listened again but believed my assumption of the two legs were correct.

“The gift of an Icaraz soldier’s appendage,” he answered with a chuckle. “Severed by my own hand, dear sister.”

“You took the bee’s arm?!” I interrupted, a little bit startled and a little bit disgusted. Did he really just bring that thing this entire way?

I heard him take it from his side and show it to her, the wind whooshing as he waved it around.

“Oh? And just who is speaking now, brother? Is it the arm?”

She continued to move forward when suddenly Fogwarth whipped me around like a carnival ride and dangled me in front of the newcomer.

“Hey! What gives-“

I found myself momentarily speechless.

His sister was human. Or, at least almost human. Two legs, two arms, dark skin, a human face with a normal nose and mouth. Her eyes were slightly larger than average and were completely red, missing the pupil entirely. After a brief study I noted that her fingers were fuzzy at the end, and slightly longer and pointier than a regular human too. Her torso was just a bit short too, and her legs just a tad too long. It was like one of those action figures or dolls where they just extended or shrank some things to a cartoonish effect.

Oh. She also had huge moth wings that were a cream white with black trim and glittering golden specks. Two small, fuzzy black antennae curled at her hairline too, with long, ghastly white hair like spider silk.

She had a face and posture that said she was all business, standing with a battle-hardened warrior pose like a true fighter who wouldn’t take no shit. Sun rays seemed to make her bronze armor glow with light, but other than that she seemed unarmed. If she was hostile then maybe Fogwarth would stand a chance.

I gulped and hoped so.

“This, Fogwen, is sir berry of the Calypso orchard.”

I smiled and widened my eyes as if to spook her a bit.

“Hey, I’m Barry,” I said like an old Good Guy doll.

“Huh,” she answered, folding her arms and clicking her tongue. “And what’s your name then, berry?”

“It’s Barry,” I answered, already knowing where this is coming.

“Well, it certainly is interesting but clearly not the smartest of the branch,” she said to Fogwarth.

“No, my name is Barry. With an A. Are you calling me a dumb ass or something?”

She smirked a bit at that.

“A sharp tongue for such a rotund thing,” was her answer. “An unfortunate name then, Barry. Barry the Berry. And he is another Resurfaced?”

“Yes, it seems to be that way. Though I have never met a Resurfaced who has returned in such a manner.”

“Strange,” she answered, moving around and examining me in full despite my scowl. “I have only met a small handful of Resurfaced on my travels, and I fear most are dead by now. Their kind tend to have short, brief, painful lives.”

“Don’t fucking talk about me like I’m not here!” I shouted, sharing my scowl with this Fogwen person. “What do you mean they have short lives? From the evolutions?”

Both laughed just a bit in unison.

“Not at all, sir berry! No, the Resurfaced tend to favor power and growth over practicality. After their first evolution most forego a path or plan and instead leave on the pursuit of further paths.” Fogwarth seemed to lighten up after that dreary response. “I believe it is due to their lack of companions! It just so happens that sir berry and I are just that.”

Fogwen’s eyes widened.

“A Companion? A party then? Did you not think to receive permission from father first?” Fogwen said, putting her hands on her hips and leaning back. “This should have been approved by his advisors at the very least! There are dozens of eager guards and adventurers who would murder one another willingly for such an opportunity!”

“Woah, easy now,” I said to the moth girl. “Calm down, don’t pop a wing or whatever. Your brother here is helping me out, maybe even saving my life. Gotta evolve soon or I die. He’s been protecting me, so I’d appreciate it if you backed off a bit, flappy. Your father isn’t the king of Fogwarth!”

An uncomfortable, long, awkward silence rolled between us. If this were a western movie then a tumbleweed would have rolled right on by. I took a deep sigh in clear, humiliating defection.

“Your father is the king, isn’t he?”

Both insectoid siblings nodded in near-unison.

“Ah, shit. Lovely.”