Writing Prompt

“Now son, you must carry on my dream,” my father speaks to me in a quiet voice. “I believe in you,” he musters, his eyes closing for the final time. My mother holds onto his hand, her body shaking with her eyes sprinkled by tears. I stare at my father’s pale face against the white walls and bedsheets of the hospital bed. His crazy gray hair in spikes, resembling the mad scientist he had always been. My mother pulls me into the her side, engulfing me into an embrace.

The chemicals bubble in the flasks, exploding onto the tabletop. A noise erupts by the fuel tanks and supply cabinets mounted against the wall with bright red and yellow signs for warnings. A young boy steps out with a blue t-shirt and faded jeans. “Hello sir, I have come in search of assistance,” the kid speaks, pushing up his glasses on his nose. I don’t have time to help these useless kids who know nothing. I point to the signs on the walls, telling the kid to leave me alone. “What have you been working up down here sir?” the boy speaks. His hands reach up to grab the test tubes but I swipe them away from his reach. “Si-“ An explosion booms in the air, shocks and booms filling the room. Help.

There was once a mad scientist he was crazy very mad he would do anything for science even risking his own life for the sake of science. He was very passionate about his work but possibly a bit to much because his previous experiments were extreme. The first experiment he did was very mortifying it’s basically nearly made a clone, which was like it was evil mad just like him the clone and scientist thoughts were vicious and cruel and similar… Then the mad scientist got another crazy idea about making himself immortal. So he went to the storage room and started getting ingredients and supplies, and put them in a pot stirring it all together, and then he poured it into a test tube it was red bubbly and warm.

The assistant jumped suddenly as he had an idea. He carefully poured some more water into the beaker. The golden liquid sizzled and turned into a burrito that rested in the glass.

“Yes! YES!!” Cheering with success, he leaped up and dashed into the room where his boss was pouring over some blueprints. The scientist had crazy grey hair, wild blue eyes and was wearing his lab coat.

“What is it, Igor?” Asked the scientist annoyedly. “I told you to leave me alone and work on the other project.”

“But I figured out the other project, sir!” The exhilarated assistant said. “I added a half cup more water and it turned back into a burrito!!”

“What! Really? Let me see!” The scientist dropped the blueprints and hastily wiped his glasses before glancing at the cup. “Why, you’re right! How intriguing! Brilliant!! Water, i say!” He studied the glass with extreme intrest.

“So now what, sir?” Asked Igor.

“Help me with testing out more projects, then we can work on the Time Machine. The first person who needs this stuff will be king midas.”

“Failure.”

Dr. Marken scribbles in his notebook, harshly crossing off the last test. He grabs his tape recorder and hits the button.

“Project Pennsylvania already gained supernatural powers. Pyrokinesis,” he comments lowly.

Project Tennessee, Ness, watches as he looks disappointed. Maybe disheartened?

“Tests are unable to give controlled, contained abilities. Still produce ones of destructive.”

She can practically hear Project Texas, Tex’s eyes roll.

A beeping startles Dr. Marken. He shuts off his recorder and slam his notebook closed. Hurrying, he leaves, the door locking behind him.

“Finally, he’s gone,” Penny slumps in relief. He was particularly hard on her today with the experiments. Ness feels bad and relieved at the same time. “He’s got to be mad if he expects to get away with this,” Project Rhode Island, Landen grunts, tapping the glass with his knuckles.

“Our families haven’t found us yet,” Tex points out, ever the optimist. That thought heavily weighs on Ness. It has gone through her mind before, but she never let herself voice it.

Her parents would look for her, right? They haven’t found her because they are hidden, right?

“We have to do something,” Penny says, her voice quivers, with an emotion that Ness doesn’t know how to describe. Fear? Nervousness? Resignation? Or maybe it’s determination?

“What do you suggest? Stage a coup?” Tex questions. He sounds harsh and gruff, but Ness knows he doesn’t mean any harm. That’s just how he talks.

“Yes! We are the ones with the powers!” That takes the three of them aback. Penny has been here the shortest amount of time. Her positivity hasn’t been broken down yet.

Ness shakes her head, “We’ve tried, Penny. The cells he keeps us in are immune to our powers.”

“And when we are in the test cell, our powers don’t do anything to that either,” Landen adds.

“Maybe it can contain one of our abilities, but not all. We need to convince him to put us all in the experiment cell,” Penny suggests, her tone getting more hopeful by the second. Ness almost feels bad for her.

“If we talk when not spoken to, Dr. Marken will only go harder on us. He doesn’t listen to us. He’ll know the second we say something that something is up,” Ness disagrees. Tex grunts in agreement with her.

It takes a moment for Penny to respond with anything. “Who is E? Sometimes he mentions E.”

“His daughter,” Landen answers.

“He’s looking for the fucking cure for her,” Tex adds, sharply. Ness can see his clenched fists.

Penny doesn’t relent, “Well then I’ll suggest it. I don’t know the social rules of this place yet. I’ll try to imply it would be a good idea. For her.”

“Penny, his experiments will only get worse for you,” Ness warns, hoping that one of the onoy people she cares for won’t get into trouble. “Projects Arizona was taken away when she was no longer useful. Who knows what he’ll do to you.” Her voice is pleading by this point. If she never sees her family again, then the other subjects are her only friends. She can’t lose anyone else.

There is this glint in Penny’s eyes. Ness remembers it from the first day Penny came through, reminding them all about their human side. “I have to try. I can’t spend the rest of my life in here. I won’t.”

Ness glances at Tex and Landen. Both give her the same feeling. Understanding. Agreement.

They won’t live their whole lives in this room. They’ll either escape together or die together.

The unbreakable bond formed from trauma.

“Ok, what’s the plan?”

Puffs of smoke, wafts of odd chemical scents. Vapors that appeared and dissipated in a flash. The sound of bubbling and gurgling filling the room. A pinch of this, a dash of that.

A knock disrupts my puttering. Irritated, I stride quickly to the door, pulling the door back abruptly.

“Yes?”

“Doctor Zaronto? I’m Cheryl, here from the school newspaper.”

I stare blankly at the young redhead, waiting for her to go on.

“We had an appointment? I confirmed it with you yesterday afternoon.”

“Oh, right. You’re early though, and unfortunately I can’t accommodate you until our appointment at-“ I looked at the clock. How was it already noon? When was the last time I had looked up?

Sheepishly, I turn back to the girl. She arched a neat eyebrow at me, lightly sweeping a manicured hand towards my lab. “Shall we?”

Stepping aside to let her through, I smelt a faint waft of pear and jasmine from her hair as she passes by. The enchanting smell is disconcerting, so unlike the usual scents of chemicals or flames I find myself surrounded by typically.

Hastening around, I clear a space for her on a lab stool, throwing the papers and pens that were housed on it atop my desk. She takes it, settling herself atop it easily, pulling out a notebook from a worn leather passenger bag she wore around her shoulders. Next to her easy grace, I feel like a bull in a china shop, unsure of what to do with my hands, where to look.

I settle behind my overcluttered desk, barely able to see her over the pile of junk that’s accumulated atop it in the past months. Cheryl doesn’t seem to notice my frantic energy; when she’s assembled her materials she turns and pins me with a cool look, pen in hand.

“Alright Doctor, are you ready to begin?”

Nodding, I try to discretely wipe my clammy palms on my pants, but Cheryl’s eyes catch and track the movement. Her face softens slightly.

“You really don’t have anything to be worried about; it’ll be a few questions, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

She was right; I had defended two different theses for my dual PhD’s. I could handle an interview with an attractive woman for half an hour.

“Let’s start with your educational history. You completed your undergraduate degree at Berkeley?”

The hour passed swiftly, Cheryl asking probing yet insightful questions, not the usual simpering nonsense I was used to from reporters. At one point, a beaker behind her let out a shrill whistle, its contents spilling out of it. Cheryl remained unfazed, asking if I needed to clean it up before continuing, and that was that.

When she stood up to leave, bag in hand, I found myself wondering if I were ever going to see her again. I followed her to the door, nervously wringing my hands, contemplating a loneliness that had never before bothered me.

“Thank you again for your cooperation today, it was just what I needed. You should see it in the next issue.” She dug around in a side pocket of her bag, extracting a white business card with dainty lettering on it. “Let me know if you think of anything else.”

I stared down at the tiny words as Cheryl headed down the hallway. For a fraction of a moment I hesitated-

“Cheryl? Cheryl!” Panting wildly, I skidded around a corner in the parking lot, catching up to her just as she reached her car.

She looked confused as she caught sight of me, leaning with my hands on my knees, breathing deeply from my sprint out here. It had been quite a long time since I had exercised, I realized.

“Do you. Want. To get dinner. With. Me?” The words wheezed out of me, nothing of the suaveness I had been practicing on the way down being apparent.

But Cheryl’s mouth curls up into a slow smile, like she was expecting me. “I would love to. “

𝘎𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 04172 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥.

“Maybe I should just stuff her instead,” he says aloud as he hovers over the exam table, jotting down another note on an unorganized pad. “I could still keep her features, her skin texture, her…” he pauses and struggles to flip the corpse over, “… her ass too.” He says this matter-of-factly, blushing at the thought of what he could do. “I suppose I’d insert a tiny jar here, tinker with this… lotion and top coating would keep her flesh from peeling back in bed.”

𝘎𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 7630 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺.

He takes a rat from the shelf nearby and opens the cap. A putrid smell dances beneath his nose as he lets the starving animal loose. It scurries to the corpse as the Doctor sets more of the rodents free. Together, they gnaw at the cut the Doctor has made in the woman’s stomach. He doesn’t worry about whether or not the skin will damage beyond repair; behind him he’s hung several skin colors on a rack to dry. From time to time, when hungered, he’ll nibble at them. He locks the place up and will return in twelve hours to a hollowed out woman. He was certain this time that his project would succeed.

𝘝𝘢𝘴𝘦 64812 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘮'𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦.

“Ah. This smell, how… clean,” the scalpel scrapes against the woman’s insides with a sickening grinding sound, where the part time Doc and Scientist dumps the remaining organs and bits into a blue Easter Basket, to be fed to the rats while he’s on break. “I would say she’d be done in three days. There’s the stuffing, drying, sanitary days and lastly… the top coat.”

𝘛𝘶𝘣𝘦 87553 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴.

She’s hung, stuffed and dried. He takes her down and begins stitching the wig he’s made from her real brown hair onto her old scalp. “I’ve searched forever to find my soulmate,” he whispers as he holds the human doll to his chest. “I’ve found her already. How beautiful you are, my lovely new wife.” Her glassy eyes stare back in reply, always open.

Always watching.

At the edge of an ancient forest, shrouded in the perpetual mist, stood the dilapidated remains of what was once a grand manor. Its walls, now overrun with ivy, concealed the lair of Dr. Elric Voss, a scientist whose brilliance was eclipsed only by his madness.

The wind howled like a chorus of wailing spirits as Sarah approached the ominous structure. Her breath formed ghostly wisps in the cold air, and every instinct screamed for her to flee, but her brother was in there... somewhere.

"Hello?" Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper as she pushed open the massive oak door. It groaned in protest, the sound echoing through the hollow halls.

"Ah, our guest has arrived," a voice slithered from the shadows, as smooth and cold as the marble underfoot.

Sarah's heart pounded in her chest, her eyes darting around, trying to locate the source. "Where's Tom?" she demanded, her voice gaining strength.

Dr. Voss emerged from the darkness, his eyes gleaming with an unnatural fervor. "Your brother is part of something much greater now," he said, gesturing towards a heavy curtain at the end of the hall.

As she drew closer, the muffled sounds of machinery grew louder, and an acrid smell filled the air. With a swift motion, Dr. Voss pulled back the curtain, revealing a chamber that glowed with an eerie light.

"Behold!" he exclaimed, revealing a figure strapped to a contraption that buzzed with electrical currents. "The future!"

Sarah gasped, her eyes widening in horror. It was Tom, but his eyes... they were vacant, staring into nothingness.

"What have you done?" she cried, rushing to his side.

"Improved him," Dr. Voss replied, his voice devoid of emotion. "He is the first of a new dawn. Humanity is flawed, but I... I can fix it."

"You're mad!" Sarah shouted, her hands trembling as she reached for Tom.

"Mad?" Dr. Voss chuckled, a sound devoid of sanity. "No, my dear. I am enlightened."

The storm outside raged, mirroring the turmoil within as Sarah struggled to free her brother from the mad scientist's grasp. The manor seemed to groan in sympathy, its very foundations shaking as if to rid itself of the horror it housed.

Sarah's heart raced, her mind a whirlwind of fear and determination.

"Enlightened?" she spat, her voice laced with scorn. "You've lost your humanity!"

Dr. Voss's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint within them. "Humanity is overrated," he hissed. "It's time for evolution."

Sarah's gaze fell upon a scalpel, glinting malevolently on a nearby tray. With a swift motion, she grabbed it, holding it up defensively. "Stay back!" she warned.

The mad scientist chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Do you think you can stop progress with a mere blade?" he taunted.

"I don't know," Sarah replied, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "But I can stop you."

With a roar, the storm outside reached its crescendo, lightning illuminating the room in stark, white flashes. In that split second of brightness, Sarah lunged forward, the scalpel aimed at the heart of madness.

Dr. Voss was quick, though, his hand shooting out to catch her wrist. They struggled, locked in a battle of wills, the scalpel dancing dangerously between them.

"You're strong," he grunted, "but not strong enough."

Suddenly, the room shook violently, a deafening crack echoing as a bolt of lightning struck the manor. The lights flickered, then died, plunging the room into darkness.

In the chaos, Sarah felt her brother stir. "Sarah?" Tom's voice was weak, but it was the sweetest sound she had ever heard.

"Tom!" she cried, her attention momentarily diverted.

It was all Dr. Voss needed. With a swift movement, he wrenched the scalpel from her grasp and threw her aside. She hit the wall with a thud, her vision blurring.

As she struggled to regain her senses, she heard the mad scientist's triumphant laugh. "It's too late!" he shouted. "The transformation is complete!"

But then, a new sound pierced the air—a low, guttural growl. Sarah's eyes snapped open just in time to see a figure rise from the machinery, its form silhouetted against the stormy backdrop.

"Tom?" she whispered, hope mingling with fear.

The figure stepped forward, and in a flash of lightning, she saw it wasn't her brother—not anymore. It was something new, something powerful.

Dr. Voss's laughter died in his throat as the creature advanced. "What... what have I done?" he murmured, his voice barely audible over the roar of the storm.

The creature spoke, its voice a deep rumble that seemed to come from the earth itself. "You sought to play God," it said. "Now, behold your creation."

With a roar, it lunged at the mad scientist, and the manor erupted into chaos.

The creature that was once Tom stood over the crumpled form of Dr. Voss, its breaths heavy and ragged. The storm raged on outside, the relentless drumming of rain against the manor's windows like an ominous soundtrack to the chaos within.

Sarah, her body aching from the impact, pushed herself off the ground. Her eyes, wide with terror, were fixed on the creature. "Tom?" she whispered again, a desperate plea in her voice.

The creature turned, its movements deliberate and heavy. "I am what he made me," it said, its voice a distorted echo of her brother's. "But I am not the monster he envisioned."

Dr. Voss groaned, his hand clutching at his chest where the creature had struck. "My work... my legacy..." he gasped, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and wonder.

Sarah crawled to her brother's side, her hand reaching out tentatively. "You're still in there, aren't you? You're still my brother," she said, her voice breaking.

The creature—Tom—looked down at her, its eyes softening. "Always," it affirmed, and there was a warmth in its voice that gave Sarah hope.

Together, they turned to face the mad scientist. "What do we do with him?" Sarah asked, her gaze never leaving Dr. Voss.

Tom's new form seemed to ponder, its head tilting slightly. "He sought to control life, to bend it to his will," Tom said. "But life is not something to be controlled. It is to be lived, to be cherished."

Dr. Voss's eyes widened in realization. "I... I didn't understand," he stammered. "I just wanted to fix..."

"Fixing is not the same as changing," Tom interrupted. "And change is not always for the better."

With a final look at the broken man before them, Tom and Sarah left the chamber, the sounds of the storm growing distant as they moved through the darkened halls of the manor.

As they emerged into the night, the rain had stopped, and the clouds were parting to reveal a sky full of stars. They looked at each other, and without words, they understood that while the night had been dark and full of terrors, it had also brought them closer.

The manor, with its secrets and its madness, faded into the mist behind them as they walked away, hand in hand, refusing to give the manner a second glance.

Wednesday 19th of July 1988

I’m known as the towns “mad scientist”. My passion is building bikes, since I was a kid I can remember playing with my toy bikes and thinking what I could make out of them. I could tell you everything about a bike, from the inside, out. I guess my appearance isn’t that approachable for some people. I wear old clothes all with rips in. I don’t get that much money, I’ve been on sick leave from work for a few weeks now but no one takes the time to know me, they just see someone looking crazy in the streets but actually I struggle with schizophrenia but to them I belong in a “nut home”. I’m just like the rest of you. We just see things differently. We all bleed the same. They just need time to understand me, I’ve got a heart of gold and I don’t mean to harm on anyone.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ It’s the prompt! I swear! I just reeaaally wanted to try to write in this setting, don’t know if I did well. ∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The warm smell of fresh cookies wafted through the air. Noel breathed in the faint taste of melted butter and baked bread. The bakery was still, caught between the lull of the sunrise, devoid of all customers but them. The dusty floorboards creaked softly as they stepped towards the counter. The place looked abandoned and old-timey, but Noel felt the fire running. They leaned against the rough wooden counter, gently brushing off floating dust. They waited, searching for some way to get the baker’s attention.

They called out warily, "Hello?..."

"Just a moment!" Rang a silvery voice from behind the wall, sectioned near the counter. A tall woman appeared from the doorframe, rushing up to the wood slab and drumming her fingertips against it. She wiped her hands on her apron, which were covered in flour and what was most likely jelly. “What can I get you?"

"Well. It’s my younger sisters birthday today. I was hoping to get a cake." Noel responded, scuffing their shoes on the floor.

"Oh of course! " the woman said, clapping her hands together, "What a nice thought! We've plenty for you to chose from." She smiled widely and gestured toward the thin glass display.

Noel bent down, examining their options. The various pastries seemed to glitter, singing to be chosen. Regretting not having breakfast, Noel eyed the muffins eagerly. Then they remembered the task at hand.

"Do you make custom cakes, by chance?”

“Oh!” Said the baker, who let out a abrupt, sharp laugh that sliced through the air, “For a special occasion, sure. What type of cake would you like?”

Feeling a bit awkward, Noel looked down. They tugged on their sweater, “She likes vanilla. Maybe her name, Maggie, on it?"

The baker figited with her long blond hair, tightening her ponytail. Her face was resting in an expression Noel couldn’t place, but it was a bit unnerving. Suddenly it contorted back into a smile.

“I will get right on that! Anything else you’d like?” She asked.

“No thanks.”

The baker flashed her teeth and darted back into the kitchen. Noel marvelled silently some more at all the items. Eventually, amidst the clatter of pans and slamming of drawers, she returned.

“Would you come back with me to finish the decorating?” She questioned, her voice sweet with powdered sugar, “To run it by you?”

Noel thought this was a bit odd, “Are you sure I can?”

“Of course! I own this bakery, after all. Come on in.”

They trailed behind her, rubbing their palms on their jeans anxiously. Something felt a bit off to them. The kitchen smelled even better, on the surface. It was calm and inviting, but Noel immediately noticed the underlying scent of burnt butter and sour milk. The scene itself was what you’d expect. Drying frosting all over the furniture, sprinkles spilling out of jars. Rolling pins tossed aside and flour coating the walls.

The baker lead them over to a scraggly table. Deserted bowls, half empty bags, and a container of eggs laid next to the greatest cake they ever saw. Noel's eyes lit up. It was square, spongy, and perfect for their sister.

The baker clicked her worn boots together, “Good. You like it. I’ll go get the frosting.” She twisted around and headed for some drawers in the far corner.

Noel scraped some frosting off an excess chair with their fingernail. They noticed fresh jelly on the table, and tried to clean it up. It was awfully liquidy for jelly, and didn’t smell similar at all. All of the treasures of the bakery began to make their stomach churn. They tried to calm themselves, steadying against a shelf. They picked up scattered sprinkles and examined them. They looked like pills. Noel dropped them and turned around. The baker was walking towards them, smiling with her hands full of icing piping bags.

“Would you like to taste it?” She offered, violently grabbing their wrist and squeezing a drop of bright green icing on their finger.

Hesitantly, they did. It felt like acid, burning their throat and setting fire to their stomach. Noel grimaced.

“Don’t like that one?” The baker asked innocently.

“No, that’s okay,” Noel managed, backing away, “Do whatever. How about I come back when it’s done?”

The baker’s pleased expression dropped. She scoffed and replied, “Why would you do that? It’s-“

Noel lunged for an empty glass jar, smashed it on the floor, and bolted from the building. She ran the same frightened pace all the way home, deciding that maybe it’d be best if she just made the cake. ∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

(TW: Gore)

“Hand me that beaker Atlas.” Snapped the scientist holding out his disfigured, barely recognizable hand. Atlas grabs the beaker full of a bubbling burgundy liquid that he just finished creating. He clenches the neck of the beaker as he looked at the scientist, then back at the beaker. His throat began to close and his mouth began to dry up. He didn’t know if it was from the wrenching stench of the lab or his nervousness.

“Are you sure this is a good idea boss? We don’t know what’s going to happen.” Atlas said, his voice trembling. He instantly regretted even opening his mouth as soon as the words left his lips.

“I said hand me the god damn beaker Atlas!” yelled the scientist. Atlas flinched as he could feel the force of the yell vibrate through his body and slowly holds out the beaker, head down. The scientist holds up the beaker, inspecting the vile liquid inside. “This is perfect” he said with a maniacal chuckle.

“Boss,” Atlas began, throat so tight he could barely breathe, “If we go through with this, wouldn’t it cause-“

“Why do you question me!” the scientist screamed. The sound echoed throughout the lab and an unsettling silence followed as the echo died off. Eyes full of rage he shot a menacing look at Atlas. “Do not question me.” The words pierced through Atlas’s soul. The scientist snapped his gaze towards Silas, his second assistant, who was trembling working on the second liquid needed for the concoction.

“Almost done over there Silas?” he snapped. Silas flinched and almost dropped the beaker off the table.

“Just finished boss.” Silas replied with a noticeable lack of confidence.

“Hand it over”

Silas hands over the beaker, his body tensed, hoping for his life he made it right. Silas did not support this whole experiment and had a million questions himself, but he was smart enough to keep his mouth closed. He knew if Atlas had opened his mouth again it would not end well.

“Excellent work Silas” said the scientist inspecting the green sizzling liquid in the beaker. Silas let out a sigh of relief and became slightly less tensed. The scientist poured a bit of each liquid into a large container and began stirring it. “Finally, with this solution we can turn anything into a monstrosity. We can contaminate the water pipes of the city with this and turn the whole city into monstrosities!” the scientist let out crazed laughter that filled the room as the two assistants watched, mouths shut, sacred for their lives. The laughter subsided. “I hate people.” The scientist said under his breath with a look of disgust on his face. Atlas opens his mouth out of concern. His voice breaking and his throat feeling like it has collapsed at this point.

“Boss, are you sure-“

The scientist slams his hand on the counter, rattling everything on the table and making both assistants jump. “I said do not question me!” He screamed as he grabs a shard of broken glass on the table and slices Atlas’s neck in one quick swipe. Blood spilled out of Atlas’s neck as he gargled and clutched his neck. Silas was staring wide eyed as Atlas dropped to the floor and let out a final grunt. A pool of blood began to trickle across the floor. The scientist clenches the bloody shard of glass in his hand as he turns his gaze toward Silas. “Did you have an questions Silas?” yelled the scientist, clenching the glass even harder causing blood to drip onto the floor from between his fingers.

“No boss.” Stammered Silas, frozen in shock still staring at the motionless body of his fellow assistant in the pool of blood.

“Good, let’s continue” said the scientist turning back to his mixture of liquid. He then picked up the container of liquid stepped over Atlas’s dead body as he approached a cage that held a squealing rat banging against the bars. The squeals grew louder and exceptionally ear splitting as the scientist and Silas got closer. “Shut up you filthy creature or I’ll chop your head off!” Roared the scientist as he stood over the cage. The rat got a little quieter as if it could understand. “Now just to test it on the rat first” The scientist poured a splash of the mixture into the cage and watched closely as the rat sniffed it and eventually drank it. Silas took a step back. The rat started twitching and making odd noises. A smile creeped onto the scientists face as he watched intensely. “Yes, yes”. Silas took another step back. Then without warning, the rat rapidly expanded and burst out of the cage in a squealing frenzy. Within seconds it latched onto the scientists face and began eating away his entire head. The headless body of the scientist drops to the floor joining the fallen assistant in the pool of blood. The rat turns towards Silas with its fiery eyes and bolts toward him, flesh and blood dripping from its mouth. Silas barely makes it out of the lab room and shuts the door on the vicious creature. It banged and clawed at the door, but Silas was long gone. He had escaped. Yet he was traumatized. Forever broken, but alive.