I managed to whisper a last goodbye to my dad as exhaled my last breath. The guilt I felt for leaving him was overwhelming, but there was nothing I could do. The blood that coated the gunshot wound was icy under my fingertips. I felt a strange numbness all throughout my body as I faded in and out of consciousness. I realized that I could no longer speak, and could just faintly hear voices echoing around me. A blinding white light flashed before me. The numbness faded, while my soul seemed to be slowly lifted from my body. Suddenly, my mind went blank. It was inexplicable. I was focused on absolutely nothing. Slowly, I began to regain consciousness. The universe was still spinning, however, its pace was decreasing. I regained control of my body, and glanced around. I was outside, yet things were fifty times their normal size. Confused, I reached out my hand to touch the grass. I was speechless when I saw what was before me. My hand was in fact not a hand, but a hairy black leg. I had become a fly!

Astounded, I began experimenting with my different body parts, seeing what made them move and how they felt. Everything was brand new. I wasn't sure whether I should be nervous, but surprisingly I wasn't. This was very heterodox to religion I had studied. Heaven and hell was the typical afterlife that was believed in within my family, not reincarnation. Remembering that this was irrelevant, I began to crawl around. A spurt of energy rushed through me, and my wings began to shake as I was elevated into the air. I spied a beautiful heterochromatic butterfly against the dull homochromatic background that was the trees. Before I even realized it, I was racing towards the creature. I caught myself, and landed safely on the pine tree next to me. The pine tree looked strangely familiar. I shook my head when I realized how oblivious I had been. I was in my own backyard. Happy that I was in a place I knew like the back of my hand (or back of my wing), I took off to go and see if I could find a way inside. On my way to the door I spotted a fellow fly buzzing along. I wondered if he was in the same situation I was put in. Maybe we were related, I thought. A pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade stood proudly on the table next to the door. Unable to resist, I buzzed my way over to it.

At first, the taste was tolerable, but much worse than expected. As I continued to gulp, the taste began to make me sick. It was so bland that it made me want to gag. The door was slightly cracked, so I took the opportunity and quickly wove my way through the air and into the familiar home. My father was standing in the kitchen preparing dinner. It was some type of exotic cuisine I had never seen before. I tried to yell, but all that came out was the same homophonic buzzing noise I made earlier. Frustrated, I began to float around his head, trying to get his attention. This irritated him. He began swatting at me with his palms with immense force. Realizing this was doing nothing but annoying him, I tried to contain myself and sit on the table, but my hyperactivity wouldn't allow it. I continued lingering about until I found a comfortable spot to land upon. I rotated around and gazed up at my father. His glasses were foggy, making his hyperemia more than apparent. I recognized what was in his hand just as it was too late. A giant fly swatter came towards me with incredible speed. I wanted to scream and tell him it was me, but I knew it was no good. A grin stretched across my black lips as I thought about what my next life would be like.