Graduation

I finished my transmutation to find myself covered in cardboard. All around my oval self (I am an egg) there is but grey, semi-rigid cardboard.

After my initial experiment of the pickle, I became the laughing stock of my class. Why, my classmates asked me, oh why did you transform into a pickle? Popular choices had been werewolves and vampires, knights and dragons. Power fantasies run deep within the magic school system. With every spellbook, students are expected to heighten their magical prowess. Spells to spit fire, spells to draw lightning, spells to level entire cities. But, I ask myself, what if the very magic that is supposed to make us strong, really but masks our weaknesses. Is magic but a crutch to understand how the universe works? Shouldn’t we be using magic instead to understand what we feel like is beneath us, so that in return we can appreciate how grand we can be in the scheme of life?

Mages that turn themselves into creatures larger than life are scared to lose control. To become the better shapeshifter, I must learn to have no control at all. After reverting back to their true self, many students complained about intrusive thoughts. The mighty creature was not who they were meant to be, yet they lusted after it still. In their quest for power, these students lost sight of who they were. And so, I elected to shapeshift into an egg. No internal battle, just an external inconvenience and a very nutritious yolk.

Along with my diploma, I received a medal from the teaching body. The professors felt like my critique of the inherent search for power within the magic school system warranted extra recognition. They had trouble pinning the medal to my outer shell and instead settled to affix it to my cardboard box.

Somewhere within the crowd overlooking the graduation ceremony, a burly Italian man with a Lactobacillus strain on his fingers smiled.