He had been awake for days.

Madness was starting to creep into his bones and the night sky beckoned.

Lifting his scarred and abused body from the concrete he stumbled towards the stairwell. Falling against the door, he shoved back his hair, braided in an impenetrable rope down his back. Climbing up the stairs he walked past friends and strangers alike; some getting to know each other too well. The smell of bodies and alcohol cloaking him in a fog, muddling his mind. He needed to see the sky.

The girl was there, where he’d left her, what must have been hours before. Her blood red hair pooled around her head. A mesmerising pool. He realised she was a sign. Leaning over her, he roughly pressed his lips to hers, feeling the chapped skin and exalting in her imperfections.

“Thank you, my dear.” he whispered.

Stepping up onto the ledge, he stretched his arms out to the heavens, breathing in the night itself. He took the first step of the rest of his life.

He’d reached for the sky, and touched the stars.



  “Left, go Left!” he shouted to the girls fleeing back. I hope she listens to me, god damn firebrand she is.
  Laboured breathing and a lopsided tread echoed up the alley behind him, they were starting to lag, good, if they could get over the walls they would at least have some extra time. The alley’s walls towered above him as he gritted his teeth for that extra push, his steps bouncing back at him so that it sounded like an entire legion was running through the streets. Glancing at his wrist he made the decision to cut through a different street, hopefully heading the girl off before she reached the walls herself. Cobbles gave way to dirt and the running became easier as he neared his goal. Where is she?
A flash of gold caught his attention, only one person had hair like that in the middle of the night – he had caught up to her. Calling ahead he gave her warning “Right and then left! Past the gallows,” relief flooded through him as he saw her do as he bid. Once last glance at his wrist, he powered forwards, passing under the shadow of the noose swinging in the wind. That awaits us both if we are caught. 
Catching up to her, he grabbed her in one smooth movement that covered her mouth and pulled down his sleeve. Her eyes were wide with terror and a flicker of white was his only warning before she sank her teeth into his palm. Sucking in a breath he spun her round and saw her visibly relax when she realised who it was.
  “I’m sorry, A girl can never be too careful” she murmured with a wink. He really did hate her sometimes.
  “Shut up and get over that damn wall.” rolling her eyes she began to climb, taking far to long to find footholds, just to infuriate him.
  He surreptitiously checked his wrist again, they needed to head due west to get to a safer destination.

  “Look your brand isn’t going to change, you don’t need to keep looking at it,” he jumped, he hadn’t realised she’d scaled the wall and was now watching him.
  “It’s not that,” he muttered. Really it was.


  They fascinate me. Take now for example, my assistant is melting chromosomes in order to separate them; so we can choose which should be included under the cell culture hood.
The intricate positions of the gene loci and the delicate blend of parent DNA produces some interesting results.

  Looking around my bare, unadorned lab, I remember the real reason I’m here, not just to play at the cellular level, but to open the eyes of the religious nay-sayers. Those with faith that narrow minded and brainwashing that they do not believe in evolution, despite the astronomical fossil evidence. Those that destroyed my home and my life because they disagreed with my papers and speeches on evolution. I’ll show them all.

  A whimper from across the room breaks me out my monologue, a small porcelain hand reaches through the hatch in the corner. It infuriates me, “What have I told you about making a sound! Would you like me to teach you again? – the hand withdraws and a small sob carries across the room – Good! Stay quiet, you are no longer important,“.

  In my research, things sometimes go awry – sometimes it’s hard to see beyond the advances at a cellular and physical level; sometimes we forget about the mental and social needs of the creatures. Through that hatch, live my failures. Every day they remind me of what I have done wrong, and one day, they will pay for their very existence. However, for now they provide the motivation for these long days in the lab. A lab where I am God.

  “Ma’am, it’s ready in exam room three.” I look up, a smile creeping across my face, time to see what we have managed to control now.

  Entering exam room three I tread softly over to the table – where a small girl is waiting with her back to me. She has exquisite white-blonde hair that has never been cut and now falls well past her waist, cascading from the table. I know that when she turns to face me large, evenly spaced eyes, the colour of the sky in summer will drink me in. Some what starved of other company she has become rather attached to my assistant and I. I know all this because, I designed her.

  “Child, please lie down,” I indulge her neediness with a soft smile and she immediately does as she’s bid, a long sigh escaping her lips, as if my presence is somehow soothing. Idiotic Child. As she lays her head on the pillow, I begin my examination of her limbs – gently extending them and manipulating the joints – perfect. Next I test her reflexes, which are highly advanced for a child, and her response to pain stimuli such as extreme heat and cold. Bless the child, she never flinches or pulls away – that was the hardest part, cultivating a combination of high sensitivity, so that her senses remained functional, while also reducing the response to pain. The final part of my exam, testing her cell regeneration rate. I create a small nick in her finger, watch the blood flow, timing how long it takes to slow and stop entirely. It doesn’t, in fact it’s taking longer than a normal child her age – I know this because I personally tested all controls.

  She is flawed, another failure. I seethe with barely checked rage and grab the pillow from under her head, which smacks off the desk eliciting a small cry. I hold her head with one hand and place the pillow over her face with the other. Her eyes widen in recognition and fear.

  “Mama!” she cries, I hold the pillow over her face, while she thrashes her limbs, until she stills.

 Failure is not allowed.

The prompt: -Your story is set in an illegal human genetic experimentation lab, somewhere deep underground.

From: http://shrapneldoll.deviantart.com/art/Prompts-193833309

– AR