“It’s not your fault everyone hates you,” he whispered to Thor. “You were just doing what you were made to do.”

“Chirp-churrup!” replied the locust, rubbing its wings together.

“Shhh!” Ollie said, and he slipped a few grains of rice into the box and closed it.

Ollie began to carry Thor with him everywhere he went. He grew very fond of the little insect, who perched on his shoulder and chirped when the sun shone and would hop about merrily when Ollie whistled a tune. Then one day his father discovered Thor’s box. Enraged, he snatched the locust out, took it to the hearth, and threw it into the flames. There was a high-pitched whine and a quiet pop, and Thor was gone.

When Ollie cried for his dead friend, Edvard kicked him out.

“No one sheds tears for a locust in my house!” he shouted, and pushed his son outside.

Ollie spent the night shivering in the fields. The next morning, his father felt bad for being so harsh and went outside to find the boy, but instead he came upon a giant locust sleeping between rows of ruined wheat. Edvard recoiled in disgust. The creature was as big as a mastiff, with thighs like Christmas hams and antennae as long as riding crops. Edvard ran into the house to fetch his gun, but when he came back to shoot the thing, locusts swarmed around him and flew into the barrel of his rifle, clogging it. Then they swirled in the air before him and divided themselves into letters that spelled a word:

O-L-L-I-E

Edvard dropped his gun in shock and stared at the giant locust, which was now standing on its hind legs, as a human would. It didn’t have black eyes, like locusts do, but blue ones, like Ollie’s.

“No,” Edvard said. “It’s not possible!”

But then he noticed that the torn collar of his son’s shirt was around the creature’s neck, and a cuff of Ollie’s pants was attached to its leg.

“Ollie?” he said tentatively. “Is that you?”

In what seemed to be a nod, the bug moved its head up and down.

Edvard’s skin prickled strangely. He felt as if he were watching the scene from outside his body.

His son had turned into a locust.

“Can you speak?” Edvard asked.

Ollie rubbed his hind legs together and made a high-pitched noise, but it seemed that was the best he could do.

Edvard didn’t know how to react. He was disgusted by the very sight of Ollie, but still—something had to be done for the boy. He didn’t want everyone finding out, though, so rather than call the town doctor, who had a big mouth, he sent for wise old Erick.

Erick came hobbling out into the field to have a look. After his initial shock, he said, “It’s just as I predicted. It took years, but he’s finally manifesting his peculiar trait.”

“Yes, obviously,” said Edvard, “but why? And how can it be reversed?”