Everybody reads "Metamorphosis," about the guy who wakes up as a cockroach. But for my money, you just can't beat the nameless anxieties and exquisite paranoia of "The Burrow." Here's a taste:
I have completed the construction of my burrow and it seems to be successful. All that can be seen from outside is a big hole; that, however, really leads nowhere; if you take a few steps you strike against natural firm rock. I can make no boast of having contrived this ruse intentionally; it is simply the remains of one of my many abortive building attempts, but finally it seemed to me advisable to leave this one hole without filling it in. True, some ruses are so subtle that they defeat themselves, I know that better than anyone, and it is certainly a risk to draw attention by this hole to the fact that there may be something in the vicinity worth inquiring into. But you do not know me if you think I am afraid, or that I built my burrow simply out of fear. At a distance of some thousand paces from this hole lies, covered by a movable layer of moss, the real entrance to the burrow; it is secured as safely as anything in this world can be secured; yet someone could step on the moss orbreak through it, and then my burrow would lie open, and anybody who liked -- please note, however, that quite uncommon abilities would also be required -- could make his way in and destroy everything for good.
Read the rest.
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