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Andy knew there was a storm coming in. He didn't even need to ask his Pa. Andy always knew when a storm was coming. Or if it was going to rain. Or if the crops were going to have a bad year. Or if the Wells-Fargo wagon had brought a shipment of sugar or not. He didn't know how he knew, he just did, and the town where he lived accepted it as just another odd little quirk of the wild frontier.

But there was something different about this storm, though he couldn't put his finger on it. It wasn't rain, too early in the year anyway. And it wasn’t a dust storm either; the air was wrong for a dust storm. Yet there it was anyway, little more than a faint distortion on the horizon. He'd already told the town, and everyone had set to making their preparations. Whatever it was, if Andy didn't know, then it must be something mighty strange. Horses were brought into barns and locked in tight. Windows were boarded and loose furniture pulled inside. Children and farmhands had long since been called inside where it would safe. All that was left was Andy, standing on his porch while his Pa hammered the last of the boards shut across the windows.

"Boy!" his Pa called, "I'm all done. Let's head for the root cellar."

Andy nodded, still focusing on the storm. He felt strangely pulled to it, like when you gaze over the edge of a tall building and a little voice in your head tells you just how easy it would be to lean over and fall. Andy had a little voice telling him that this would be a storm he might not want to miss. But, dutiful son that he was, he followed his Pa into the cellar and locked it behind him.

They passed the hours quietly. Pa had brought his whittling and Andy listened to the storm. It wasn't making any noise, per se, but he could still feel it. Somewhere deep inside, he could tell just how far away the storm was. And it was rapidly coming closer.

A thought rose to his mind, unbidden. Something he hadn't asked in many years. He didn't know why the thought had chosen now to resurface, but given the silence and the free time at hand, he decided to ask it.

"Pa, whatever happened to Ma? How come I never met her?"

His Pa frozen in his carving. He looked up at his son and met his gaze. His eyes were stern, almost angry for a moment, but then they softened and he sighed. Andy's Pa set down his knife and beckoned his son to sit closer, which he obliged.

"Your Ma," he started before sighing again, "I swore I weren't going to tell you till you was older, but this storm makes me think of her again." He gazed up at the cracks of light filtering in through the cellar doors where the wind was just beginning to pick up. "We met during a storm. And... I lost her to one as well."

"Your Ma, well, she weren't from around here. You might say she blew into town along with the storm." He chuckled. "Fierce woman. Knew what she wanted and wouldn't take no for an answer. I fell for her on sight."

The wind was really picking up now. Andy could hear the clattering banging of a shutter that hadn't been nailed down proper. There was... a humming too. Not like the normal hum of wind as it blew through the tall grasses of the fields. More like the hums that folks did in church when they wanted to feel included but didn't know the words.

"Our time together was short, but happy." His Pa continued, his gaze staring past his son to somewhere in the far past. "We courted, got hitched, and started this little farm in just a few short months. And then," he smiled, "You came along."

The wind was howling now, but there was still no rain and no sign of dust. Andy felt... restless. Like there was an itch in his head. Something he couldn't scratch but something... something he needed to do. The humming was louder too. Like there was a whole choir just outside. He was finding it harder and harder to hear his Pa over the noise. Why didn't Pa speak up? Couldn't he hear it too?

"I wasn't there when you were born. In fact, nobody was. Your Ma insisted that she have the child alone. Even locked herself in her room. It was... there was..." he faltered for words, his voice choking with emotion. "She screamed. She screamed like the devil himself was chasing after her. And when she stopped... I feared the worse. After a time, me and some of the boys got axes and chopped down the door to her room. That's when I first saw you. Wrapped up in the center of her bed, sleeping as quiet as you like, pretty as a picture."

The hum was deafening now! It was like the choir was in his head. Strange rhythmic thumping noises beat on the cellar door like rocks on a tin roof. "And Ma?" Andy practically yelled, desperate for anything to distract himself from the crushing wave of noise.

"Gone." His Pa sighed. "No sign of her. I never saw her again after that. Though I always wondered what happened. You see, her old room became your bedroom after that. And it has no windows and only the one door." Andy's Pa glanced towards the cellar door. "It's getting a mite noisy out there ain't it?"

And then the door exploded with noise and light and millions upon millions of tiny wings and legs.

Locusts swarmed into the cellar like the biblical flood, filling every nook and cranny that had room for another jittering body. Everything shook and vibrated with the force of their beating wings, and neither father nor son could move an inch.

Andy was in excruciating pleasure. Everything hurt. His body burned and ached like he'd caught the fever as his muscles spasmed and his bones creaked. And yet... there was a strange rightness to the feeling. Like he'd been missing something his whole life and never realized it. And the song, the song! It wasn't a hum now, but a vibrant chorus that rang and sang through every fiber of his being. There were no words, or at least none in English, but there was meaning! Layers of thought and feeling and sensation that poured into him like the symphony of creation and filled his being with a sense of rightness like he'd never known. He didn't even notice as his limited ability to move was gradually made less and less. How his body was slowly pushed into a fetal position as layers of carapace were woven around him like swaddling around a babe.

After a time that felt like both nothing and an eternity, the locusts began to retreat. Andy's Pa gasped as they left. He'd been spared suffocation by sticking his head in an old crate. He could only hope his son had been as lucky. Turning around, he gasped once more at what lay in his son's place. It was shaped like his son, if only vaguely. He could make out the placement of the arms and legs through the thick layers of brown chitin that sealed them in place. But the fine details were gone, lost under the brown enamel that coated Andy's body as finely as though he'd been dipped in it.

Andy's Pa collapsed to his knees beside the shell of his son. "No..." he whispered as tears threatened to peak from his eyes. "Not you. First my wife is taken from me... and now my son too?" He tried to speak more, but found he could not. Sorrow gripped his throat like a vice, throttling voice and breath alike. He collapsed overtop of the remains of his son, weeping openly.

There was a shake. Andy's Pa sniffed back his tears and looked up. Was that... No. Just his grief stricken mind playing tricks on him. He laid back down and...

There it was again! A ticking, a tapping, a shaking coming from the shell. From inside the shell!

"Andy!" he cried, hope suddenly resurging, "Andy my boy! Follow my voice! Come back to me!"

A crack formed along the back, right where his spine would be.

"That's it!" His Pa cheered, "Keep doing it! For my sake, and you own sake, and for the sake of your Ma, live boy, live!"

The crack widened and split farther, reaching from his head to the base of his spine. The shaking was near constant now, it was practically rocking back and forth on the packed earth floor.

"That's it boy! One more push and you'll be free!"

Something poked out from within the crack. A finger! Andy's Pa lept forward to help, to grab whatever part of his son he could and pull him back to the land of the living. But the moment it touched the 'finger', he yelped and stumbled back. It was hard. Hard and sharp. Moreso than any human finger had any right to be. Another one broached the crack, this one pushing from the other side. And then another one. And then another one. With a sudden 'Crack!' the gap was forced open several inches. Much to the fallen man's horror, two long brown things emerged. They looked sharp and tough, like scythes or claws, each at the end of a tough segmented leg. Whatever was coming out of that shell, it was not human.

He looked about for a weapon, but before he could move the two claws gripped the sides of the shell and gave a mighty heave! With a splash of unknown liquids, a body of pale peachy skin tore itself away from the carapace and greedily stole a lungful of sweet, sweet air. Rivulets of fluid ran down a soft curved body, making sunlight glint off of a pair of perfectly formed breasts that hung like ripe fruit from a tree. Soft golden hair like fields of ripe wheat was plastered down nearly to the small of her back where a delicate waist blossomed into rounded hips. From her shoulders, four brown insect-like arms twitched and jittered as their body figured out how to use them.

After a moment, she opened her eyes. Gone were the baby blues passed down Andy's father's line for generations. Instead, the glossy orbs shone with the golden irises that Andy's father hadn't seen in over sixteen years.

There was silence for a time as both struggled to find their voices. Eventually one did, and it sounded like honey and sunshine. "Pa?"

Andy's Pa approached the creature with care. He placed a hand on either of her front most shoulders. Despite their soft appearance, the skin was tough and spoke of a strength beyond its appearance. The locust girl smiled nervously, revealing a mouth of razor sharp teeth.

Andy's Pa paused, and then smiled back with all the warmth a father could. "You're the spitting image of your mother."

And daughter and father embraced.

Description

Andy knew there was a storm coming in. He didn't even need to ask his Pa. Andy always knew when a storm was coming. Or if it was going to rain. Or if the crops were going to have a bad year. Or if the Wells-Fargo wagon had brought a shipment of sugar or not. He didn't know how he knew, he just did, and the town where he lived accepted it as just another odd little quirk of the wild frontier.

But there was something different about this storm, though he couldn't put his finger on it. It wasn't rain, too early in the year anyway. And it wasn’t a dust storm either; the air was wrong for a dust storm. Yet there it was anyway, little more than a faint distortion on the horizon. He'd already told the town, and everyone had set to making their preparations. Whatever it was, if Andy didn't know, then it must be something mighty strange. Horses were brought into barns and locked in tight. Windows were boarded and loose furniture pulled inside. Children and farmhands had long since been called inside where it would safe. All that was left was Andy, standing on his porch while his Pa hammered the last of the boards shut across the windows.

"Boy!" his Pa called, "I'm all done. Let's head for the root cellar."

Andy nodded, still focusing on the storm. He felt strangely pulled to it, like when you gaze over the edge of a tall building and a little voice in your head tells you just how easy it would be to lean over and fall. Andy had a little voice telling him that this would be a storm he might not want to miss. But, dutiful son that he was, he followed his Pa into the cellar and locked it behind him.

They passed the hours quietly. Pa had brought his whittling and Andy listened to the storm. It wasn't making any noise, per se, but he could still feel it. Somewhere deep inside, he could tell just how far away the storm was. And it was rapidly coming closer.

A thought rose to his mind, unbidden. Something he hadn't asked in many years. He didn't know why the thought had chosen now to resurface, but given the silence and the free time at hand, he decided to ask it.

"Pa, whatever happened to Ma? How come I never met her?"

His Pa frozen in his carving. He looked up at his son and met his gaze. His eyes were stern, almost angry for a moment, but then they softened and he sighed. Andy's Pa set down his knife and beckoned his son to sit closer, which he obliged.

"Your Ma," he started before sighing again, "I swore I weren't going to tell you till you was older, but this storm makes me think of her again." He gazed up at the cracks of light filtering in through the cellar doors where the wind was just beginning to pick up. "We met during a storm. And... I lost her to one as well."

"Your Ma, well, she weren't from around here. You might say she blew into town along with the storm." He chuckled. "Fierce woman. Knew what she wanted and wouldn't take no for an answer. I fell for her on sight."

The wind was really picking up now. Andy could hear the clattering banging of a shutter that hadn't been nailed down proper. There was... a humming too. Not like the normal hum of wind as it blew through the tall grasses of the fields. More like the hums that folks did in church when they wanted to feel included but didn't know the words.

"Our time together was short, but happy." His Pa continued, his gaze staring past his son to somewhere in the far past. "We courted, got hitched, and started this little farm in just a few short months. And then," he smiled, "You came along."

The wind was howling now, but there was still no rain and no sign of dust. Andy felt... restless. Like there was an itch in his head. Something he couldn't scratch but something... something he needed to do. The humming was louder too. Like there was a whole choir just outside. He was finding it harder and harder to hear his Pa over the noise. Why didn't Pa speak up? Couldn't he hear it too?

"I wasn't there when you were born. In fact, nobody was. Your Ma insisted that she have the child alone. Even locked herself in her room. It was... there was..." he faltered for words, his voice choking with emotion. "She screamed. She screamed like the devil himself was chasing after her. And when she stopped... I feared the worse. After a time, me and some of the boys got axes and chopped down the door to her room. That's when I first saw you. Wrapped up in the center of her bed, sleeping as quiet as you like, pretty as a picture."

The hum was deafening now! It was like the choir was in his head. Strange rhythmic thumping noises beat on the cellar door like rocks on a tin roof. "And Ma?" Andy practically yelled, desperate for anything to distract himself from the crushing wave of noise.

"Gone." His Pa sighed. "No sign of her. I never saw her again after that. Though I always wondered what happened. You see, her old room became your bedroom after that. And it has no windows and only the one door." Andy's Pa glanced towards the cellar door. "It's getting a mite noisy out there ain't it?"

And then the door exploded with noise and light and millions upon millions of tiny wings and legs.

Locusts swarmed into the cellar like the biblical flood, filling every nook and cranny that had room for another jittering body. Everything shook and vibrated with the force of their beating wings, and neither father nor son could move an inch.

Andy was in excruciating pleasure. Everything hurt. His body burned and ached like he'd caught the fever as his muscles spasmed and his bones creaked. And yet... there was a strange rightness to the feeling. Like he'd been missing something his whole life and never realized it. And the song, the song! It wasn't a hum now, but a vibrant chorus that rang and sang through every fiber of his being. There were no words, or at least none in English, but there was meaning! Layers of thought and feeling and sensation that poured into him like the symphony of creation and filled his being with a sense of rightness like he'd never known. He didn't even notice as his limited ability to move was gradually made less and less. How his body was slowly pushed into a fetal position as layers of carapace were woven around him like swaddling around a babe.

After a time that felt like both nothing and an eternity, the locusts began to retreat. Andy's Pa gasped as they left. He'd been spared suffocation by sticking his head in an old crate. He could only hope his son had been as lucky. Turning around, he gasped once more at what lay in his son's place. It was shaped like his son, if only vaguely. He could make out the placement of the arms and legs through the thick layers of brown chitin that sealed them in place. But the fine details were gone, lost under the brown enamel that coated Andy's body as finely as though he'd been dipped in it.

Andy's Pa collapsed to his knees beside the shell of his son. "No..." he whispered as tears threatened to peak from his eyes. "Not you. First my wife is taken from me... and now my son too?" He tried to speak more, but found he could not. Sorrow gripped his throat like a vice, throttling voice and breath alike. He collapsed overtop of the remains of his son, weeping openly.

There was a shake. Andy's Pa sniffed back his tears and looked up. Was that... No. Just his grief stricken mind playing tricks on him. He laid back down and...

There it was again! A ticking, a tapping, a shaking coming from the shell. From inside the shell!

"Andy!" he cried, hope suddenly resurging, "Andy my boy! Follow my voice! Come back to me!"

A crack formed along the back, right where his spine would be.

"That's it!" His Pa cheered, "Keep doing it! For my sake, and you own sake, and for the sake of your Ma, live boy, live!"

The crack widened and split farther, reaching from his head to the base of his spine. The shaking was near constant now, it was practically rocking back and forth on the packed earth floor.

"That's it boy! One more push and you'll be free!"

Something poked out from within the crack. A finger! Andy's Pa lept forward to help, to grab whatever part of his son he could and pull him back to the land of the living. But the moment it touched the 'finger', he yelped and stumbled back. It was hard. Hard and sharp. Moreso than any human finger had any right to be. Another one broached the crack, this one pushing from the other side. And then another one. And then another one. With a sudden 'Crack!' the gap was forced open several inches. Much to the fallen man's horror, two long brown things emerged. They looked sharp and tough, like scythes or claws, each at the end of a tough segmented leg. Whatever was coming out of that shell, it was not human.

He looked about for a weapon, but before he could move the two claws gripped the sides of the shell and gave a mighty heave! With a splash of unknown liquids, a body of pale peachy skin tore itself away from the carapace and greedily stole a lungful of sweet, sweet air. Rivulets of fluid ran down a soft curved body, making sunlight glint off of a pair of perfectly formed breasts that hung like ripe fruit from a tree. Soft golden hair like fields of ripe wheat was plastered down nearly to the small of her back where a delicate waist blossomed into rounded hips. From her shoulders, four brown insect-like arms twitched and jittered as their body figured out how to use them.

After a moment, she opened her eyes. Gone were the baby blues passed down Andy's father's line for generations. Instead, the glossy orbs shone with the golden irises that Andy's father hadn't seen in over sixteen years.

There was silence for a time as both struggled to find their voices. Eventually one did, and it sounded like honey and sunshine. "Pa?"

Andy's Pa approached the creature with care. He placed a hand on either of her front most shoulders. Despite their soft appearance, the skin was tough and spoke of a strength beyond its appearance. The locust girl smiled nervously, revealing a mouth of razor sharp teeth.

Andy's Pa paused, and then smiled back with all the warmth a father could. "You're the spitting image of your mother."

And daughter and father embraced.