METAMORPHIC

Alex woke up with beads of sweat running down his temples. He was feverish, hyperventilating like a dog on a hot summer day. He just had the most extraordinary dream. Lucid dreams like this don’t happen to Alex anymore. Not these days.

This one seemed so real. So real he could almost smell it. The scent of burning flesh hung in the air like Death himself was right next to him.

Alex Gomez clearly remembers the images he saw in his dream. He was standing in front of a sea of people, countless faces of frightened, bloodied men and women, trying to run past him in pure chaos. The dead littered the floor. He heard himself shout, but no one seemed to hear him above the growing melee. Children were crying. Sirens echoed in the air, adding more menace to the bedlam that was happening before him. Alex looked down at his body and he sees himself covered in a combination of blood and shrapnel. It was as if something exploded on him. A trail of flames crawled up to his chest, then to his throat…

It was in this state of confusion that Alex found himself that morning; clutching his throat, checking his body for burns. Finding himself intact, Alex forced himself to get up with a groan. His head throbbed. He could not decide if it was from a migraine or from the extrasensory experience his mind just went through.

It was the morning of January 13, 2025. Alex was glad he was off work today. He was far too disengaged to be functional. He was determined to do absolutely nothing. He thought of reading a book and let the day pass him by. He recently found himself a copy of "Atlas Shrugged" from the neighborhood Goodwill bookstore. A lot of his contemporaries hated this book. Alex found it riveting. He had read it before in school and he wanted to recapture that sense of inspiration he once experienced reading it. Today was one of those days where Alex felt he needed a change in perspective.

While waiting for his decrepit coffee machine to brew, Alex looked outside the window of his 4th-floor apartment. He saw several groups of people walking on the street below. Some were rushing while others moved more slowly, animatedly engaged in conversation. Many had streamers and placards with them. One banner said, “Long live, Prime Minister Brand!” while another said, “Who is Ryan Brand?”

Alex groaned. The new Prime Minister will be sworn to office today. He hated the guy.

Alex pulled a chair and poured himself a cup of coffee. Yesterday's newspaper was still on the rickety dining table, unread. So was his dinner plate from last night, a slice of pizza left uneaten. At 25 years old and living alone, Alex felt he had the luxury to be lazy and unkempt. After all, he only looked after himself and no one else.

Alex turns the television on. A picture of the new Prime Minister came instantly into view. Alex cursed. He flicked the channel to see if other stations had other news, but to no avail. It incredibly annoyed Alex that everyone seemed to really like Ryan Brand. Everyone, but him.

The country was in turmoil. The ruling government controlled every business and facility in the country. Those that opposed the government were silenced. The economy plunged into unprecedented levels. The crime was uncontrolled, looting and riots were regular occurrences. The divide between the rich and the poor was never more apparent.

Ryan Brand ran his campaign like no other. Many people claim Brand has the charisma of a rock star, the work ethic of a farmer, and the reputation of a pope. He won the election by a landslide, promising the people a revolutionary kind of government. He vowed to fix the economy and cure the ills of society. Brand presented himself as the savior everyone craved.

Alex detested Brand. It wasn’t because he thought he was a bad guy. Alex liked that he was young, smart, and a progressive-thinker. Alex felt, however, that such qualities present a certain danger to the people. His countrymen were so hungry and deprived of good leadership that they would turn and worship the next shiny object that comes their way. That was Brand. He was this oasis in the middle of the desert, one that will raise your hopes so high but only to kill you when you realize that was all but an illusion. Alex does not trust him, nor the government he advocated. He was just too good to be true.

Alex was about to turn the TV off when suddenly, out of nowhere, a beautiful, black butterfly, graceful in its flight, landed on the picture of Ryan Brand on the screen.

Chills ran down Alex’s spine. His blood curdled. It was like seeing an old foe, surprising yet disconcerting. Alex thinks they are the harbinger of death. He has seen them bring misfortune many times before and they never miss.

Alex believes in the power these butterflies possess. He remembers the time when a black butterfly appeared on the hood of his grandparents' old Chevy, just before they pulled out of the garage to pick up some groceries from the supermarket. Alex never saw his grandparents again. They died in an accident shortly thereafter.

Alex also remembers the day when one of his nursing home resident’s daughters came in for a visit. She brought him a vase of beautiful white roses. A singular black butterfly was resting on top of one petal, so distinct and off-putting that he was so surprised no one else noticed it. An hour later, Mr. Galt passed away from a heart attack.

It didn’t take long for Alex to realize the message of this butterfly. He knew now what the universe was trying to tell him.

Ryan Brand was to die.

Alex was immediately perturbed. He does not understand why it felt like he had this cosmic obligation to do something. Part of him did not want to have anything to do with it.

Why should he care? He hated him and all that he stood for. The country should be better off without him. Why should he interfere? He should not be obligated to help him. Why doesn’t he just let him die like the others? Why should he do something now?

A nagging sense of guilt began to consume his whole being. Two words entered his mind and kindled the flame of whatever humanity that was in his heart. What if.

What if he could warn him? What if he could save him?

Alex Gomez found himself walking briskly towards the Inauguration Square. The roads of the city were blocked for the event. Vehicles were not allowed to enter past the barricades. There were hundreds of National Guards deployed at every corner.

Alex felt so uneasy. He clutched his coat closer to his body, hoping that no one will recognize him.

“I’m not a criminal,” Alex muttered to himself. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, was he?

In his mind, he was doing something patriotic. Alex didn’t have a concrete plan. All he knew was that he had to be there and he had to do something. His heart raced and his head felt like it was about to explode.

Wearing a nondescript black trench coat, Alex snaked his way into the crowd. With determined persistence, Alex managed to elbow his way within a few feet of the rather grand stage. The atmosphere in the square was electric. About fifty thousand people were there that day, boisterously voicing their support for the new Prime Minister.

They see him.

Ryan Brand and his family made their way up the stage. People cheered so loud that Alex had to cover his ears. He panicked. He can almost feel that the time was near. Alex looked at the crowd which seemed to have doubled in the last minute. Many of them will die.

Then out of nowhere, he saw her. Death, that is.

Or the Reaper, whatever it is you call her. Alex knew it was her. He can smell her. She smelled like burnt flesh and sulfur. Her presence brought a sense of grim and foreboding that you cannot mistake her for anyone else. She was this faceless girl in the crowd, standing about five feet away from him. She had long, dark hair and fringes that covered her eyes. She wore a thin, white dress that swayed with the breeze. At her feet was a large, brown paper box. Alex immediately wondered what was inside.

Alex elbowed his way to get to her. The crowd seemed oblivious of her presence. Death beamed at the sight of him. A pair of black onyx-like eyes greeted Alex.

“What are you doing here?” Alex asked.

“I should ask you,” she responded. “Why are you here?”

Alex shrugged his shoulders. "I am not sure."

“I think you know what is about to happen,” she answered, her voice was deep but strident.

“You cannot let this happen!”

“Why not?” Death said. “Do you think you can stop me? I am absolute.”

“Please...it can't end this way!” Alex pleaded.

She cocks her head to look at him. Her eyes were filled with so much emptiness that Alex was truly bereft of what she said.

“You can do something, Alex...” Death declared.

“What do you mean?”

“You can change everything.”

“I can?”

“Isn’t that why you are here?” Death said smugly.

“I don’t understand…”

“You see, Alex, everyone's fate is in your hands.”

“What does it have to do with me?” Alex was perplexed. "You already sentenced them to die."

“I don’t make choices as to who lives or die. I don’t kill, Alex. I am only here to collect,” she said. "But you, you have a choice..."

“Choice?” Alex asked. “What do you mean?”

“You have a choice to make, Alex...use your free will.”

Alex's mind raced. He could not think clearly. Choice. That word reverberated on his mind.

“And the butterfly…” Alex said. "From this morning. It told me that Brand will die..."

“That butterfly, Alex, was not for him.” Death replied calmly. “It was for you.”

Death looked down at the box at her feet and picked it up.

That was when Alex realized what she meant. It was HIS choice… his destiny. The butterfly never misses. His destiny ends here. Freewill equates to fate.

Alex whipped his body around towards the stage and shouted at the top of his voice, “BOOOMMMMB!!!”

Commotion ensued. The people on stage saw and heard Alex and began to shield Brand and his family.

Death smiled at Alex. She nodded at him and opened the brown paper box she was now holding. Thousands of black butterflies came flying out of the box, darkening the sky with their sheer number. A butterfly for every soul that was to perish.

At that same moment, a ball of fire consumed the bodies of the men and women in the square. Just before the explosion, Alex opened his trench coat and looked at the explosives strapped on his chest. He saw the number on the counter go down to zero.

Many years later, Ryan Brand pondered about that day and the identity of the man who warned him just in time. He often wondered what compelled him to do it. To this day, people are still debating whether he was a terrorist or a hero.

Brand became a better person because of what happened. He reigned the land with courage and conviction. The people revered him and he brought prosperity to the country for years to come. Life had been kind to him. Brand smiled at his luck, he believes that it was because of all the wise actions and conscientious choices he had made.

As he picked up his coffee cup, he saw a black butterfly gently perched on the handle.