|
|
|
She was beautiful, hair as dark as raven`s down, eyes that shamed the open sky.
"Maman," she cried in her soft lilting French, muffled by layers of glass and ectoplasm. A few idiots tapped on the glass and snickered, making crude faces. The lot of them were fathers, although to whose poor children, I did care not. They were here because they were the best, for no other reason but.
"S'il vous plaît, maman, aide-moi," she moans, pressing herself against the glass, exciting the male population.
"Child," I scold harshly, not looking up from my work, "You know I never understood your French."
"Vous êtes français, maman. Pourquoi voudriez-vous y renoncer, et moi?" she asks, temper flaring.
"Hush now, child, you`re disturbing my work. It`ll be over soon, if these idiots ever get back to work."
The men, gathered around her as they were, jump, mumbling apologies.
"Maman, vous n'avez pas à faire cela. Que faire si je n `en veux d'être une bête misérable," she says, her eyes bright and fixed in a glare.
"Child, you know I don`t know what you`re saying. Quiet now," I reply, annoyed at her antics. This is her dream, and it shall be fullfilled.
"Vas te faire encule, maman," she shouts venemously. I ignore her, turning to my men.
"Is it ready to go?" I ask the head scientest. "Is the expirement ready?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replies, meek.
"Well then start it, you idiot," I scold, tapping him on the head with a ruler. "I don`t have all day."
"Are you s-sure?" he asks, stuttering, fear enveloping his words.
"Yes, Jerry, I`m positive. Now start it already. The lot of you are getting on my nerves."
This sends the scientests scurrying, like rats in the light. There is a loud ping, and a whoosh, and the test subject starts screaming.
"Arrêter, faire cesser," she screams, and then all words are lost to pain. Gashes rip open on her back, staining the pale white skin crimson with blood. From them sprout wings, a soft cream collection of feathers. They extend, knocking against the confines of the test tube and folding slightly at the ends.
The scientests gasp and stare, pointing. They didn`t believe it would work. I believed.
"Beautiful, she is simply beautiful, my lovely little girl," I sigh. The test tube opens, emptying the contents on the ground. My daughter sits, perched on the edge of it, crying bloody tears, that run down her face and leave little streaks of red on it.
Mascara Maniac · Sun Jul 10, 2011 @ 07:10am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|