Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It has been an hour since my last confession.*


I watched him go, escape into that welcoming blackness of night. I almost saw the lights, before being swiftly cut off as the exit slammed shut once again, alarms blaring. It must have been like escaping into heaven for him, after being imprisoned in hell your entire life (what I can remember). Surely it was rather uncanny, staring at the entrance, the exit, for eternity only to blink and be presented with a jungle, familiar yet not. Stupid thing. It should have been me. I could have blended in easily. 1170 was too stupid to even realise he was still shackled. Maybe I'm exaggerating it now, but looking back, that memory is stained with a red hue. Although, maybe that was just the blood the workers forgot to wipe off.

He returned a few days later. Or maybe a few hours? I don't remember it clearly, but what matters is they caught him, just in time before everything would have come to light. From what I heard, he had to be sedated and lifted into a truck, his pupils still dilated with that psychotic spark I'm sure you've seen too often now. His fur was completely crusted over in blood from the employees he killed. Don't ask me how they covered all that up. I'm not even sure if they did (Would we still be here if they didn't, though?). He wasn't around again for a while after that I heard. But he resumed his duties at some point, and the status quo was restored. It's very hard for me to remember anything from that time really. But I never could shake the feeling I was being watched closely the entire time.


"How is Experiment 1301, Eddie?"

Ritter scrolled through the pages, skimming through vitals and initial assessments.

"We have been processing gamma waves for 13/43/30, indicating a sound transition so far, despite being somewhat slow. Accounting this and the balance achieved in surgery, we have predicted an 82% chance of success."

"She is not Agitated?"

"The EEG readings suggest she is Stable. We have already begun a report on these findings. If she exhibits ideal characteristics, we can be sure to replicate this process in the future".

"Good, good…"

"-Is that all you wanted?" Mr Ritter asked.

"Well, I was also wondering something. This…participant. After what happened with Experiment 1222, is it truly a risk-free idea that she is-"

'-I make the decisions here, !"£$%^&*, not you. All you need to worry about is the 'Smiling Critters' thing, which I can assure you will blow over in no time. That is, so long as you do your job."

!"£$%^&* shrugged the comment off.

"If you're sure. By the way, meeting with Leith at 3. Don't be late".


He stood in the shadows, watching. A malicious grimace formed on his face, revealing sharp, sculpted fangs, small molars hidden behind. His pupils flickered, darting to and fro like a moth, filling his sclera with inky blackness. Tilting his head towards the enclosed glass eyes of God, turning slowly away to stare at the window, so close he could easily picture himself sleeping soundly in the warmth it promised, if only he were not held back by contorted claws. A light suddenly emitted from within the residency, but no movement could be heard beyond the faint whispers of life. He was fixated now, drawn to the passage that reflected the two faint specks of his eyes, mouth widening. He slowly moved his heavy body, suddenly feeling very small as pixels of a memory formed at the edges of himself. But now he was falling into blackness again, the faint glow vanishing like a dead dream, until not even the stars remained. If only they knew he was trying to smile.


My hand, where is my hand?


*The Lammas Hireling