Carla the Caterpillar Here, and I’ve Just Been Zombified
When wasps attack
The night air is sweet with the smell of danger on its winds. -Carla the Caterpillar
Nowhere is safe anymore. Once, when I was but a small larvae, I dreamt of a world filled with possibilities. Now, as I look hopelessly forward to my transformation into a proud geometer moth, I fear that day will never come.
Who knew that instead, I would be sanctioned to a life of servitude from my winged brethren. I want to tell you that I pressed on, living my life and doing all of the caterpillary things that ones of my kind enjoy doing. Things like; eating leaves or falling onto human heads from treetop branches to give them a fright. Alas, this type of beautiful life is not my fate.
Looking back, I now see that I’ve wasted this existence.
Squirrelled away precious moments by constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting, wondering when the bastard Glyptapanteles Wasp-mother would come for me.
I had seen it happen before. Family members cut down in their prime to become a host body for our most loathed enemy. Sacrificing their lives for the parasitoid monsters that would eventually grow to terrorize our next generation.
This is our plight. This is our story.
It was an ordinary day. As always, I was munching on a juicy leaf while looking left and right, prepared to fend off any unknown attacker. However, the wasp in question (the very question I had forever been worrying over) came up behind me surreptitiously, like a scathing rat looking for prey at midnight. She pierced me viciously with her egg placer; it was all so cloak and dagger.
I was taken by total surprise. Within seconds I had been implanted by these unnatural creatures and helpless to do anything about it!
Now, as I write these last words in an effort to publicize my species plight, I can feel the 80+ larvae growing and transmuting inside of my body. They eat up my inside juices like a kid who is trying soda pop for the first time. They are relentless in their quest, and I grow fatter and fatter by the day. So please don’t complain to me about your period-bloat until you have a cluster of parasites feeding off of you from the inside out.
Soon they will burrow directly out of me. I know this because I’ve seen it happen to loved ones. It is a gruesome and cruel joke because, unfortunately, this in itself will not kill my body. I will strive on, yet never be the same caterpillar again.
Oh no, once they have emerged, that is when the zombification will take place. I will be made to stand guard among a cocoon of both their and my making. By this time, I will have no control over my mind or my body, so I’m recording my thoughts now, before the end.
I don’t know how they do it. It is one of nature’s great mysteries that these damn wasps have the utter mind control to usurp our caterpillar lives as they do. Soon, my thoughts will no longer be my own. They suck me dry both physically and emotionally and then instruct me to protect the cocoon used in their final transformation period.
I will not eat. I will not sleep.
I will live solely to protect my captors. It is the ultimate Stockholm Syndrome, and I have no hope of coming out of this alive.
So now you understand, dear reader, how devastating this state of affairs may be. The caterpillars of the Geometer Moth are a proud species. However, if and when the wasps come for us, we are forever doomed to a short life of confinement and servitude.
Please help bring awareness to our sorrowful existence by joining our hashtag campaign #NoMoreZombiePillars and we, the zombie caterpillars of the Geometer Moth species, will forever be in your debt.