Read Online The Meowmorphosis by Franz Kafka - Free Book Online

to give his family. How long would he keep growing? More pressing—how long could he provide food and warmth for himself now that he had escaped his confinement at home? Gregor had no fear that his father’s round, angry face would appear out of the upper windows and alert the neighbors to his presence, leading to a recapture and a swift return to his previous miserable circumstances. More likely, they wouldall be glad to be rid of him, as he could not in his present state serve any purpose to them, neither to pay his father’s debt nor to provide the household nor—but Gregor, thinking clearly now, as sharp-eyed animals will when they find themselves in frozen alleys with their supper in question, could not think of another way in which he was of any use to his relations, nor indeed could he think of the smallest fashion in which they were any use to him.
    Perhaps, Gregor thought, this new hardness of feeling could be attributed to the fresh exercise of his altered shape. He had often observed that the cats belonging to his neighbors showed no particular warmth or love for their owners, no matter how fine or poor their food and bedding. If those cats wished to claw up a drapery, they did so without considering the expense to be entered in their masters’ ledger, nor the swings of the kitchen maid’s broom against their backsides, nor anything save their personal desires. Gregor licked the remainder of the herring from his white paw. He had never acted according to his desires alone, but only according to the dicta of his kin, his duty, and that great filial ledger that ruled his life. He had not resented it; but he had to adapt to his current situation, and despite what they had all hoped, his current situation seemed to be permanent. That difference of spirit he had always felt on the inside was now evident on the outside—and perhapsif all this meant to continue, Gregor might be entitled to some portion of the freedom and uncaring disposition he had always found baffling in the feline species before now.
    With this sense of purpose then, Gregor raised his tail, fully erect, and strode from the dark alley of his earlier existence.
    WHEN GREGOR SAMSA , coming along the alleyway, walked into the open street, he saw that it was raining. It was not raining much.
    On the pavement straight in front of him there were many people walking in the various rhythms of city business. Every now and again one would step forward and cross the road. A little girl was holding a tired puppy in her outstretched arms. Two gentlemen were exchanging information of some sort. The one held his hands palms-up, lifting and lowering them in a regular motion, as though he were balancing a weight. Then one caught sight of a lady whose hat was heavily festooned with ribbons, buckles, and flowers. Gregor shuddered, thinking of the collar that even now itched against his neck. He batted at it with a hindpaw, burning with shame. And hurrying past was a young man with a slim walking cane, his left hand, as though paralyzed, pressed flat to his chest at an odd angle. Now and then there came men who were smoking, trailing clouds along ahead of them. Three gentlemen—two holding lightweightovercoats on their up-crooked forearms—several times made a ritual of walking out from the front of the buildings on the opposite edge of the sidewalk, surveying what was afoot there, and then drawing back into the doorway again, talking all the while.
    Gregor darted through the gaps between the passers-by. Instantly he was accosted by carriages on delicate high wheels, drawn along by horses with arched necks. As he tumbled this way and that he caught glimpses of people sitting at ease on the upholstered seats, gazing silently at the pedestrians, the ships in the river-yards, the balconies, and the evening sky. It happened that one carriage surged up behind him and overtook another; the horses pressed against each other, and the harness straps hung dangling. The