TITLE

AUTHOR NAME

TITLE Copyright 2013 by Author Name.

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No
part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner
whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief
quotations em- bodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses,
organiza- tions, places, events and incidents either are the product
of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is
entirely coincidental.

For information contact; address www.website.com

Book and Cover design by Designer

ISBN: 123456789
First Edition: Month 2013

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Contents
CHAPTER ONE..............................................7
CHAPTER TWO...........................................11
CHAPTER THREE........................................15
CHAPTER FOUR..........................................19

Dedicated to my parents

Author Name

CHAPTER ONE

NE MORNING, WHEN GREGOR SAMSA WOKE

from troubled dreams, he found himself
transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin.
He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted
his head a little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed
and divided by arches into stiff sections.
The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed
ready to slide off any moment.
His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the
rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked. "What's
happened to me? " he thought. It wasn't a dream.
His room, a proper human room although a little too
small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls.
A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table
- Samsa was a travelling salesman - and above it there hung
a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated
magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame.
It showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who
sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole
of her lower arm towards the viewer.
Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull
weather. Drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane,
which made him feel quite sad.

"How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this
nonsense", he thought, but that was something he was
unable to do because he was used to sleeping on his right,
and in his present state couldn't get into that position.
However hard he threw himself onto his right, he always
rolled back to where he was.
He must have tried it a hundred times, shut his eyes so
that he wouldn't have to look at the floundering legs, and
only stopped when he began to feel a mild, dull pain there
that he had never felt before.
"Oh, God", he thought, "what a strenuous career it is that
I've chosen! Travelling day in and day out.
Doing business like this takes much more effort than
doing your own business at home, and on top of that there's
the curse of travelling, worries about making train
connections, bad and irregular food, contact with different
people all the time so that you can never get to know
anyone or become friendly with them.
It can all go to Hell!
"He felt a slight itch up on his belly; pushed himself
slowly up on his back towards the headboard so that he
could lift his head better; found where the itch was, and
saw that it was covered with lots of little white spots which
he didn't know what to make of; and when he tried to feel
the place with one of his legs he drew it quickly back
because as soon as he touched it he was overcome by a cold
shudder.
He slid back into his former position. "Getting up early all
the time", he thought, "it makes you stupid. You've got to

Author Name
get enough sleep. Other travelling salesmen live a life of
luxury.
For instance, whenever I go back to the guest house
during the morning to copy out the contract, these
gentlemen are always still sitting there eating their
breakfasts.
I ought to just try that with my boss; I'd get kicked out on
the spot. But who knows, maybe that would be the best
thing for me.
If I didn't have my parents to think about I'd have given
in my notice a long time ago, I'd have gone up to the boss
and told him just what I think, tell him everything I would,
let him know just what I feel.
He'd fall right off his desk!
And it's a funny sort of business to be sitting up there at
your desk, talking down at your subordinates from up there,
especially when you have to go right up close because the
boss is hard of hearing.

WELL, THERE'S STILL SOME HOPE; once I've got the

money together to pay off my parents' debt to him - another
five or six years I suppose - that's definitely what I'll do.
That's when I'll make the big change.
First of all though, I've got to get up, my train leaves at
five. " And he looked over at the alarm clock, ticking on the
chest of drawers. "God in Heaven! " he thought.
It was half past six and the hands were quietly moving
forwards, it was even later than half past, more like quarter
to seven. Had the alarm clock not rung?

He could see from the bed that it had been set for four
o'clock as it should have been; it certainly must have rung.
Yes, but was it possible to quietly sleep through that
furniture-rattling noise?
True, he had not slept peacefully, but probably all the
more deeply because of that. What should he do now?
The next train went at seven; if he were to catch that he
would have to rush like mad and the collection of samples
was still not packed, and he did not at all feel particularly
fresh and lively.
And even if he did catch the train he would not avoid his
boss's anger as the office assistant would have been there
to see the five o'clock train go, he would have put in his
report about Gregor's not being there a long time ago.
The office assistant was the boss's man, spineless, and
with no understanding. What about if he reported sick? But
that would be extremely strained and suspicious as in
fifteen years of service Gregor had never once yet been ill.
His boss would certainly come round with the doctor
from the medical insurance company, accuse his parents of
having a lazy son, and accept the doctor's recommendation
not to make any claim as the doctor believed that no-one
was ever ill but that many were workshy.
And what's more, would he have been entirely wrong in
this case? Gregor did in fact, apart from excessive
sleepiness after sleeping for so long, feel completely well
and even felt much hungrier than usual.
One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled
dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a
horrible vermin.

Author Name
He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a
little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and
divided by arches into stiff sections. The bedding was
hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any
moment.
His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the
rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked. "What's
happened to me? " he thought. It wasn't a dream.
His room, a proper human room although a little too
small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. A
collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table Samsa was a travelling salesman - and above it there hung
a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated
magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a
lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright,
raising a heavy fur muff that covered

CHAPTER TWO

NE MORNING, WHEN GREGOR SAMSA WOKE

from troubled dreams, he found himself
transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin.
He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted
his head a little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed
and divided by arches into stiff sections.
The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed
ready to slide off any moment.
His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the
rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked. "What's
happened to me? " he thought. It wasn't a dream.
His room, a proper human room although a little too
small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls.
A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table
- Samsa was a travelling salesman - and above it there hung
a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated
magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame.
It showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who
sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole
of her lower arm towards the viewer.
Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull
weather. Drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane,
which made him feel quite sad.
"How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this
nonsense", he thought, but that was something he was
unable to do because he was used to sleeping on his right,
and in his present state couldn't get into that position.
However hard he threw himself onto his right, he always
rolled back to where he was.
He must have tried it a hundred times, shut his eyes so
that he wouldn't have to look at the floundering legs, and

Author Name
only stopped when he began to feel a mild, dull pain there
that he had never felt before.
"Oh, God", he thought, "what a strenuous career it is that
I've chosen! Travelling day in and day out.
Doing business like this takes much more effort than
doing your own business at home, and on top of that there's
the curse of travelling, worries about making train
connections, bad and irregular food, contact with different
people all the time so that you can never get to know
anyone or become friendly with them.
It can all go to Hell!
"He felt a slight itch up on his belly; pushed himself
slowly up on his back towards the headboard so that he
could lift his head better; found where the itch was, and
saw that it was covered with lots of little white spots which
he didn't know what to make of; and when he tried to feel
the place with one of his legs he drew it quickly back
because as soon as he touched it he was overcome by a cold
shudder.
He slid back into his former position. "Getting up early all
the time", he thought, "it makes you stupid. You've got to
get enough sleep. Other travelling salesmen live a life of
luxury.
For instance, whenever I go back to the guest house
during the morning to copy out the contract, these
gentlemen are always still sitting there eating their
breakfasts.
I ought to just try that with my boss; I'd get kicked out on
the spot. But who knows, maybe that would be the best
thing for me.

If I didn't have my parents to think about I'd have given

in my notice a long time ago, I'd have gone up to the boss
and told him just what I think, tell him everything I would,
let him know just what I feel.
He'd fall right off his desk!
And it's a funny sort of business to be sitting up there at
your desk, talking down at your subordinates from up there,
especially when you have to go right up close because the
boss is hard of hearing.

WELL, THERE'S STILL SOME HOPE; once I've got the

money together to pay off my parents' debt to him - another
five or six years I suppose - that's definitely what I'll do.
That's when I'll make the big change.
First of all though, I've got to get up, my train leaves at
five. " And he looked over at the alarm clock, ticking on the
chest of drawers. "God in Heaven! " he thought.
It was half past six and the hands were quietly moving
forwards, it was even later than half past, more like quarter
to seven. Had the alarm clock not rung?
He could see from the bed that it had been set for four
o'clock as it should have been; it certainly must have rung.
Yes, but was it possible to quietly sleep through that
furniture-rattling noise?
True, he had not slept peacefully, but probably all the
more deeply because of that. What should he do now?
The next train went at seven; if he were to catch that he
would have to rush like mad and the collection of samples
was still not packed, and he did not at all feel particularly
fresh and lively.

Author Name
And even if he did catch the train he would not avoid his
boss's anger as the office assistant would have been there
to see the five o'clock train go, he would have put in his
report about Gregor's not being there a long time ago.
The office assistant was the boss's man, spineless, and
with no understanding. What about if he reported sick? But
that would be extremely strained and suspicious as in
fifteen years of service Gregor had never once yet been ill.
His boss would certainly come round with the doctor
from the medical insurance company, accuse his parents of
having a lazy son, and accept the doctor's recommendation
not to make any claim as the doctor believed that no-one
was ever ill but that many were workshy.
And what's more, would he have been entirely wrong in
this case? Gregor did in fact, apart from excessive
sleepiness after sleeping for so long, feel completely well
and even felt much hungrier than usual.
One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled
dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a
horrible vermin.
He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a
little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and
divided by arches into stiff sections. The bedding was
hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any
moment.
His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the
rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked. "What's
happened to me? " he thought. It wasn't a dream.
His room, a proper human room although a little too
small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. A

collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table Samsa was a travelling salesman - and above it there hung
a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated
magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a
lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright,
raising a heavy fur muff that covered

CHAPTER THREE

NE MORNING, WHEN GREGOR SAMSA WOKE

from troubled dreams, he found himself
transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin.
He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted
his head a little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed
and divided by arches into stiff sections.
The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed
ready to slide off any moment.
His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the
rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked. "What's
happened to me? " he thought. It wasn't a dream.

Author Name
His room, a proper human room although a little too
small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls.
A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table
- Samsa was a travelling salesman - and above it there hung
a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated
magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame.
It showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who
sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole
of her lower arm towards the viewer.
Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull
weather. Drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane,
which made him feel quite sad.
"How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this
nonsense", he thought, but that was something he was
unable to do because he was used to sleeping on his right,
and in his present state couldn't get into that position.
However hard he threw himself onto his right, he always
rolled back to where he was.
He must have tried it a hundred times, shut his eyes so
that he wouldn't have to look at the floundering legs, and
only stopped when he began to feel a mild, dull pain there
that he had never felt before.
"Oh, God", he thought, "what a strenuous career it is that
I've chosen! Travelling day in and day out.
Doing business like this takes much more effort than
doing your own business at home, and on top of that there's
the curse of travelling, worries about making train
connections, bad and irregular food, contact with different
people all the time so that you can never get to know
anyone or become friendly with them.

It can all go to Hell!

"He felt a slight itch up on his belly; pushed himself
slowly up on his back towards the headboard so that he
could lift his head better; found where the itch was, and
saw that it was covered with lots of little white spots which
he didn't know what to make of; and when he tried to feel
the place with one of his legs he drew it quickly back
because as soon as he touched it he was overcome by a cold
shudder.
He slid back into his former position. "Getting up early all
the time", he thought, "it makes you stupid. You've got to
get enough sleep. Other travelling salesmen live a life of
luxury.
For instance, whenever I go back to the guest house
during the morning to copy out the contract, these
gentlemen are always still sitting there eating their
breakfasts.
I ought to just try that with my boss; I'd get kicked out on
the spot. But who knows, maybe that would be the best
thing for me.
If I didn't have my parents to think about I'd have given
in my notice a long time ago, I'd have gone up to the boss
and told him just what I think, tell him everything I would,
let him know just what I feel.
He'd fall right off his desk!
And it's a funny sort of business to be sitting up there at
your desk, talking down at your subordinates from up there,
especially when you have to go right up close because the
boss is hard of hearing.

Author Name
WELL, THERE'S STILL SOME HOPE; once I've got the
money together to pay off my parents' debt to him - another
five or six years I suppose - that's definitely what I'll do.
That's when I'll make the big change.
First of all though, I've got to get up, my train leaves at
five. " And he looked over at the alarm clock, ticking on the
chest of drawers. "God in Heaven! " he thought.
It was half past six and the hands were quietly moving
forwards, it was even later than half past, more like quarter
to seven. Had the alarm clock not rung?
He could see from the bed that it had been set for four
o'clock as it should have been; it certainly must have rung.
Yes, but was it possible to quietly sleep through that
furniture-rattling noise?
True, he had not slept peacefully, but probably all the
more deeply because of that. What should he do now?
The next train went at seven; if he were to catch that he
would have to rush like mad and the collection of samples
was still not packed, and he did not at all feel particularly
fresh and lively.
And even if he did catch the train he would not avoid his
boss's anger as the office assistant would have been there
to see the five o'clock train go, he would have put in his
report about Gregor's not being there a long time ago.
The office assistant was the boss's man, spineless, and
with no understanding. What about if he reported sick? But
that would be extremely strained and suspicious as in
fifteen years of service Gregor had never once yet been ill.
His boss would certainly come round with the doctor
from the medical insurance company, accuse his parents of
having a lazy son, and accept the doctor's recommendation

not to make any claim as the doctor believed that no-one

was ever ill but that many were workshy.
And what's more, would he have been entirely wrong in
this case? Gregor did in fact, apart from excessive
sleepiness after sleeping for so long, feel completely well
and even felt much hungrier than usual.
One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled
dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a
horrible vermin.
He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a
little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and
divided by arches into stiff sections. The bedding was
hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any
moment.
His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the
rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked. "What's
happened to me? " he thought. It wasn't a dream.
His room, a proper human room although a little too
small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. A
collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table Samsa was a travelling salesman - and above it there hung
a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated
magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a
lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright,
raising a heavy fur muff that covered

Author Name

CHAPTER FOUR

NE MORNING, WHEN GREGOR SAMSA WOKE

from troubled dreams, he found himself
transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin.
He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted
his head a little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed
and divided by arches into stiff sections.
The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed
ready to slide off any moment.
His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the
rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked. "What's
happened to me? " he thought. It wasn't a dream.
His room, a proper human room although a little too
small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls.
A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table
- Samsa was a travelling salesman - and above it there hung
a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated
magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame.
It showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who
sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole
of her lower arm towards the viewer.
Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull
weather. Drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane,
which made him feel quite sad.

"How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this
nonsense", he thought, but that was something he was
unable to do because he was used to sleeping on his right,
and in his present state couldn't get into that position.
However hard he threw himself onto his right, he always
rolled back to where he was.
He must have tried it a hundred times, shut his eyes so
that he wouldn't have to look at the floundering legs, and
only stopped when he began to feel a mild, dull pain there
that he had never felt before.
"Oh, God", he thought, "what a strenuous career it is that
I've chosen! Travelling day in and day out.
Doing business like this takes much more effort than
doing your own business at home, and on top of that there's
the curse of travelling, worries about making train
connections, bad and irregular food, contact with different
people all the time so that you can never get to know
anyone or become friendly with them.
It can all go to Hell!
"He felt a slight itch up on his belly; pushed himself
slowly up on his back towards the headboard so that he
could lift his head better; found where the itch was, and
saw that it was covered with lots of little white spots which
he didn't know what to make of; and when he tried to feel
the place with one of his legs he drew it quickly back
because as soon as he touched it he was overcome by a cold
shudder.
He slid back into his former position. "Getting up early all
the time", he thought, "it makes you stupid. You've got to

Author Name
get enough sleep. Other travelling salesmen live a life of
luxury.
For instance, whenever I go back to the guest house
during the morning to copy out the contract, these
gentlemen are always still sitting there eating their
breakfasts.
I ought to just try that with my boss; I'd get kicked out on
the spot. But who knows, maybe that would be the best
thing for me.
If I didn't have my parents to think about I'd have given
in my notice a long time ago, I'd have gone up to the boss
and told him just what I think, tell him everything I would,
let him know just what I feel.
He'd fall right off his desk!
And it's a funny sort of business to be sitting up there at
your desk, talking down at your subordinates from up there,
especially when you have to go right up close because the
boss is hard of hearing.

WELL, THERE'S STILL SOME HOPE; once I've got the

money together to pay off my parents' debt to him - another
five or six years I suppose - that's definitely what I'll do.
That's when I'll make the big change.
First of all though, I've got to get up, my train leaves at
five. " And he looked over at the alarm clock, ticking on the
chest of drawers. "God in Heaven! " he thought.
It was half past six and the hands were quietly moving
forwards, it was even later than half past, more like quarter
to seven. Had the alarm clock not rung?

He could see from the bed that it had been set for four
o'clock as it should have been; it certainly must have rung.
Yes, but was it possible to quietly sleep through that
furniture-rattling noise?
True, he had not slept peacefully, but probably all the
more deeply because of that. What should he do now?
The next train went at seven; if he were to catch that he
would have to rush like mad and the collection of samples
was still not packed, and he did not at all feel particularly
fresh and lively.
And even if he did catch the train he would not avoid his
boss's anger as the office assistant would have been there
to see the five o'clock train go, he would have put in his
report about Gregor's not being there a long time ago.
The office assistant was the boss's man, spineless, and
with no understanding. What about if he reported sick? But
that would be extremely strained and suspicious as in
fifteen years of service Gregor had never once yet been ill.
His boss would certainly come round with the doctor
from the medical insurance company, accuse his parents of
having a lazy son, and accept the doctor's recommendation
not to make any claim as the doctor believed that no-one
was ever ill but that many were workshy.
And what's more, would he have been entirely wrong in
this case? Gregor did in fact, apart from excessive
sleepiness after sleeping for so long, feel completely well
and even felt much hungrier than usual.
One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled
dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a
horrible vermin.

Author Name
He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a
little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and
divided by arches into stiff sections. The bedding was
hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any
moment.
His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the
rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked. "What's
happened to me? " he thought. It wasn't a dream.
His room, a proper human room although a little too
small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. A
collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table Samsa was a travelling salesman - and above it there hung
a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated
magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a
lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright,
raising a heavy fur muff that covered