Birthplace

Here it is phrase of the week again for the YAFF Muse Blog:

A rock sailed through the broken window, catching a jagged piece of glass and spraying shards….

Birthplace

Traci Kenworth

A rock sailed through the broken window, catching a jagged piece of glass and spraying shards of the test tubes, Bunson burners, and glass specimens of different species over the lab floor. My containment tank cracked at the force of the next missile. I flailed as the liquid burst forth sending me crashing onto the tile. My eyes blinked, adjusting to the light.

I put a hand to a steel cabinet and hauled myself up.

Empty, staring gazes met mine as I looked around the room.

And I remembered.

Signing up.

The handshakes.

Mysterious smiles.

Clauses I couldn’t understand.

There’d been no choice. I was destitute. No family, no friends. The perfect choice for an experiment. I touched my face and looked down at my body. No six legs, two, just the same as I remembered them. Likewise with my hands. I looked for all appearances the same as when I came in. So what had they done to me? The sterile atmosphere of the lab mixed with the smells of strong coffee. My nostrils picked up another scent. Faint but getting closer. I zeroed in on it. Pounding, steady, alive. My mouth watered. I slid to the side of the doors just as the whooshed open, admitted an intern. I was on her before she had a chance to turn.

My teeth extended, as thick as a cougar’s, and ravaged her neck.

Blood, warm, juicy, filled me and yet, I hungered for more.

Her cold, lifeless body slipped from my grasp.

I glanced around.

The other tanks caught my gaze.

I smirked.

My own army.

I released the first…

The End.

Vanessa

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