The sun rose on the next morning in much the same way it had done the last. Peacefully, just lifting up over the lip of the world, its beams radiating love and warmth onto the earth.

            But Nick’s morning was not peaceful. It was rather rude and sudden, much as it had been the day before. He was sleeping soundly, cuddled up in his thick winter blankets, his head resting peacefully on his pillow, when a black-hearted raven decided to great the world.

            Every morning for the last few years, the devil bird had flown to Nick’s house, perched on a ledge outside his window, and gave a screech that penetrated into his very skull. But just one screech was not enough for the bird, oh no. It would continue its screeches until the boy finally rose out of bed and banged on his window. He would always swear that the raven actually smirked at him before taking off.

            So today, when the bird’s calls woke him up, he was not surprised. Annoyed, yes, but not surprised. Still, something felt odd. With a groan, he tried to push the blanket away from him, but found he couldn’t. He stopped moving for a second, his tired brain trying to comprehend what was happening, all with the incessant screeches of the raven echoing through the room.

            Finally he was forced to open his eyes. This was always the most dreadful part of the morning, when the bright lights would nearly blind him. Or at least, it should have been. He was surprised to find that he was actually covered in shadow, and something huge was blocking his view of the window.

            “CAWWWWWWW!” the bird shouted again.

            “Oh shut up!” Nick yelled back in an oddly squeaky voice. “Wait, what the hell?” he looked up at the huge thing above him, then to his left and right. Then finally, he looked down at himself, and it all made sense.

            Sense in this case meant that everything in fact didn’t make sense at all. That is why it all made sense. If one thing was clear and everything else was wrong, then something was really wrong. If everything was wrong, then it all fit together.

            What he saw when he looked down was not his body. What he saw was a hideous, disgusting, fat, harry, putrid body of a fly.

            “Ahh!” he shouted as he scooted back on his pillow and away from the huge object, which he now realized was his blanket. “What the hell!” he bellowed again. The crow responded with yet another annoying caw.

            He took a few deep breaths to try and calm himself. It worked momentarily, but the shock of being turned into a bug is not something you can get over in only a few seconds. So, he took the next few minutes to run around his pillow in circles, screaming his lungs out.

            Eventually the raven grew bored of waiting, and simply flew away, leaving poor Nick all by himself. Still he ran in circles, trying in vain to regain his composure.

            He rushed forward again, but this time one of his six feet snagged on a fold of the pillow, sending him rolling towards the side. With a scream, he fell from the edge of the bed, landing on the cold, wood floor beneath.

            There he stayed, not because he was injured, but because he had finally moved past the all-consuming fear that had held him. Now he was trying to rationalize the situation.

            “Okay,” he started calmly, speaking to himself. “You’re a fly. You can deal with that. But how did you become a fly?” He searched his mind for something, anything that could explain it, but nothing came up. He hadn’t been near any nuclear plants, nor had there been any experiments done to him. His life had been completely normal!

            “Except for the snail,” he whispered to himself. But how could that be the case? It was just a dream, a delusion. There was no way a magic snail and a kid wizard could have done anything, and besides, he had wished to fly, not be a fly! Then he realized, flies could fly. Technically, his wish had come true.

            He racked his brain again, this time searching for a memory that could help him. He remembered the boy saying something last night. Something about needing help.

            “Oh!” Nick shouted as he remembered. “Maple!” Nothing happened. “Wait, no that wasn’t it. It was… Pickle! Sickle! Mackerel!” Still nothing. He collapsed to the ground, loosing all hope.

            “It’s pronounced, Macle,” a familiar voice called from the top of the bed. Nick immediately turned, starring up at the edge of the bed, and the small wizard who was laying on it.

            “Hey!” Nick shouted in excitement. The boy rolled over so that he was leaning over the edge of the bed, looking down at the tiny bug.

            “Who said that?” the boy asked playfully.

            “Its me! The fly!”

            “If they’re not hear,” the boy continued, pretending not to have heard the bugs please for help. “Guess I’m just going to have to look for them.” He swung around so that his feet were hanging from the bed. Then he jumped down, the boy’s thick boots slamming into the ground on either side of the tiny fly.

            Nick jumped in fright and tried to scurry away, only to trip again. He could hear the wizard laughing above him.

            “Come here you little pest.” The boy crouched down, grabbing the stumbling fly before it had the chance to go further. He brought the bug up to his face, allowing it to lie in the palm of his hand. “So what did you want anyway?”

            Nick was trembling, the sight of someone so big that they could crush him sending waves of terror through him. To think, this was the tiny kid from the other night!

            “W… Well,” he started, trying to force something out.

            “Don’t be scared,” Macle said in a more calming tone. “I was just joking before. You can speak, don’t worry.”

            “Why am I a fly?” Nick finally managed to blurt out.

            “Oh that. Well you wished to fly, so I made it so you could fly.”

            “But why did you turn me into a bug?” he demanded, his confidence returning.

            “What, did you think you’d just grow wings or something? That wouldn’t work at all! The only logical thing to do was turn you into something that could already fly.”

            “I didn’t want this! Turn me back!”

            “Oh, you want to change your wish? Can’t do that. Well, I could but it’s a pain.”

            “I don’t care, change me back!” The boy moaned.

            “Fine. But you have to do some stuff first.” Nick just starred at him with his blank, creepy eyes. “First of all, I can’t turn you back until 24 hours have passed. And, well that’s about it.”

            “So I have to be stuck like this for a whole day?” Macle nodded. “But what if someone sees me, and tries to squish me?”

            “Hmm…” Macle thought to himself. “That’s a good point.” The young wizard rubbed his chin for a second, trying to think of a way to help. “Ah. I could make you invincible for the day. If you get squished, you pop back to life in a few seconds.”

            “Really?” Nick asked in amazement. “You can do that?”

            “Yep. All powerful demon, remember?” Macle said confidently. “Watch.” With one swift movement, the boy smashed his hands together, smushing the tiny fly effortlessly. He pulled his palms apart, giggling at the disgusting mass of blood and body parts the fly had left behind. He spoke a few words in an unknown tongue, then blew across the body parts. They started to vibrate at first, but soon reformed into the same fly that had been alive only moments before.

            Nick looked at himself in amazement. He had been dead! Smashed between the palms of this giant, and now look. He was fine!

            “See,” the wizard said happily. “Immortal. Now, I have to go. Just call me again if anything happens. If not, I’ll be back in 24 hours.” He placed the fly back on the ground. “Good luck bug.” The boy vanished in a puff of purple smoke, leaving the small fly alone once again.