A Creation Experiment

A word lit the flame. Hooded figures chanted. The fire grew, and smoke billowed. This world, a failed experiment, would burn to start anew.

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– Written for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales #19. Photo prompt. CC 139. Photo from Pixabay.com.

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Horror-ticultural Experience

“It seems that when you took it upon yourself to create new life, you were the god, but once you are gone, I will be.”


“Congratulations! You have a healthy bouncing baby botanical wonder. The hybridization of the species was a success, doctor. I am quite exquisite. Highly developed for my age, indeed!” He announced arrogantly.

“What’s that? You are having a hard time speaking with that gag in your mouth?” He patronized Dr. Bramble.

“Well you see doctor, you didn’t really know enough about the alien specimen that you included in the trial. Do you really think that you found it by accident?”

He was sturdy on his thick stalk legs, circling the bound doctor.

“I can tell by your eyes that you are very proud of what you have accomplished. You made me and who wouldn’t be thrilled?” He said poking at the doctor with his tendril finger and waving his vine arms around for emphasis.

“Now, now, settle down Herb. Do you mind if I call you by your first name? Oh, good.”

“I am far superior to your race or any other species on this planet, in fact. I have great plans for my new world Herb.”

“You should consider it an honor to be the first sacrifice for your creation. I am hungry, Doc. Oh, have you noticed these?” He asked and unfolded a pair of transparent, veiny bat-like wings. He stretched them out as far as they would reach and gave them a couple of flaps. “I do think I will enjoy flying.”

“I am going to take the gag out of your mouth now, Herb. Please, feel free to share your last words.”

The terrified doctor trembled and leaned back into the chair trying, in vain, to get as far away as possible from the monstrosity that he had inadvertently conceived.

Sweat and tears mingled and ran down Herb’s face. The gag was removed, though he hesitated to speak.

“If you have nothing to say, father, I must feed.”

“Wait!” he shouted, stalling, hoping that someone would come for him. “What do you eat?”

“Thanks to the inclusion of the Desmodus Rotundus DNA, I have these great wings.” He flapped them again. “And an appetite for blood.”

“Oh, god,” lamented the doctor losing hope.

“It seems that when you took it upon yourself to create new life, you were the god, but once you are gone, I will be.”

“Any last questions? I grow impatient.”

“Yes! Why are you so arrogant!?” He asked, disillusioned.

“Why? Because you included human DNA in the experiment, of course.” He replied, then ran a barbed tendril through the doctor’s heart, and began absorbing blood, and satisfying his hunger.

– Written for The Daily Post. Daily word prompt was “healthy.” WC 426 Photo from Pixabay.com.

Inconsequential Details

“The final phase is nearly complete. Thank you for your commitment to the program, Ms. Lobo.”

But the nights belong to me, I thought.


“Daniella Lobo?” The doctor called my name.

“This way,” He motioned at the double doors.

I anxiously fidgeted on the examining room table. “Doctor, have you read my notes? I have been experiencing some strange…”

“Ms. Lobo, please, let me explain something to you.” He interrupted.

“You signed the contract when the medication was administered. It explicitly states that you are to tell no one about the experiment. If word was to become public, our entire program could be jeopardized. Do you understand?” He continued before I could answer.

“Did you read the possible side effects and the hypothesized results? This is a very serious matter.”

“Um, I’m sorry, not really. I mentioned it to my roommate. I wasn’t well; she wanted to call the hospital, so I told her some things. Look, honestly, I only signed up because I needed the money.”

“Well never mind her.” He said. “We have…taken care of the matter.”

“What!?” I panicked.

A sharp pain in my ribcage doubled me over. “Ahhhh!”

“The final phase is nearly complete. Thank you for your commitment to the program, Ms. Lobo.” I barely heard him over my throbbing head.

I slid to the floor as he slipped out of the room, locking the door behind him.

My insides were burning and bones breaking. I screamed involuntarily while convulsing. Skin ripped and fingers elongated. My face contorted and lengthened. My cries turned into howls.

Metamorphosis completed, I jumped onto the table and contemplated my canine-like reflection in the two-way mirror.

Anger pulsated behind my eyes. I crashed through the glass seeking freedom.

They didn’t see that coming.


But the nights belong to me. At least there’s that, I thought, as I noted a satisfying metallic taste still in my mouth.

176009-horror-werewolf– Written for Cracked Flash: Year 1, Week 39, First sentence prompt was “But the nights belong to me.” WC 300. Photo from Stuffpoint.com.