Darkness.
That was the first thing he remembered—an overwhelming, suffocating nothingness. There was no pain, no light, no sound, just a vast empty void that seemed to stretch on forever.
Is this what death feels like?
Slowly, something stirred. A faint awareness crept back, like an itch just beneath the surface of his mind. There was a sensation of weight. A soft, grounding pressure. And then… warmth?
He blinked—or at least, he thought he did. The world was dim, a muted haze that didn't make sense at first. He wasn't sure where he was or what he was supposed to be doing. Everything felt so… sluggish.
His body—no, something—shifted beneath him. Instinctively, he scurried forward, his movements strange and unfamiliar. The surface above him was hard, rough, and flat. The space around him was cramped. A tight little cave. He felt a brief sense of safety, and for some reason, he didn't question it.
The gentle sound of flowing water caught his attention. A light breeze carried a hint of moisture, pulling him forward out of the small, warm enclosure. He crawled—crawled?—toward the sound, drawn by curiosity more than anything.
Emerging from the darkness, he saw it: a small, clear lake, shimmering under the pale light of an overcast sky. The surface rippled gently as if inviting him closer.
He approached cautiously, his tiny limbs—wait, tiny limbs?—moving beneath him, a rhythm that felt too natural and too strange all at once. As he reached the water's edge, the shimmering reflection finally caught his eye.
A black and blue scorpion stared back at him.
…
He recoiled, stumbling back over his own legs, the shock hitting him like a punch to the gut. What the hell?!
Panic flooded his mind as he looked down at himself. His body was small, his legs were thin and jointed, his tail long and curled behind him, tipped with a sharp, venomous point. His black and blue scales gleamed faintly in the daylight. No way…
As he stared in horror at his reflection, memories suddenly crashed into his mind. It was like someone had unlocked a door, and all the things he had forgotten poured in at once. He remembered… everything.
He had been on his deathbed, in his late 40s, surrounded by his family. The accident—God, the accident. He'd saved his grandchild from a speeding car, shoving them out of the way, only to take the hit himself. The pain had been unbearable. He'd been taken to the hospital, but the injuries were too severe. He hadn't made it. He could still feel the cold creeping over him as his body had begun to shut down. His family's voices had faded, replaced by silence. Darkness had closed in.
And then, just as he was about to slip away, a tranquil voice had reached his ears. A soft, soothing tone, promising that everything would be taken care of.
Taken care of? What the hell did that mean?
His thoughts raced as he tried to process everything. Was this some kind of sick afterlife joke? A scorpion? Really? He had died saving his grandchild, and this was his reward? He was supposed to be resting in peace, not creeping around under rocks!
It would've been funny if it weren't so terrifying.
After a long moment of stunned silence, he let out a huff—or, at least, he tried to. Instead, it came out more like a dry clicking sound. Of course, he thought bitterly. I don't even have lungs.
He glanced back at his reflection in the water, the absurdity of it all sinking in. Black and blue scales, pincers, and a venomous stinger. He shook his head—or body, or whatever—and sighed internally. "Well… I guess I'm a scorpion now."
It was serious, but also, how could it not be kind of funny? Here he was, a middle-aged man with a family, reincarnated as a creature that most people tried to stomp on. Maybe there's a bright side, he mused. At least I'm not a worm or something…
The thought wasn't particularly comforting.
He looked up from the lake, the world around him suddenly seeming much larger and more dangerous than it ever had before. The open sky, the towering trees, the distant mountains—it all felt overwhelming. He was small. Tiny. Insignificant.
And yet… somehow, he wasn't dead. He was here, alive, in some strange, new form. Maybe he didn't understand it yet. Maybe it was ridiculous. But if he'd survived this long, he could figure out the rest.
He flexed his pincers experimentally, giving his reflection one last look. "Alright," he thought with a determined click of his mandibles. "Time to make the best of this."
With that, the small black and blue-scaled scorpion turned away from the water and scurried back into the wild, ready to face whatever strange world awaited him.