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Results 8

A couple of quick notes. First, I did not realize this was going to turn into such a drawn out story when I started. However, I am thinking that there will be a total of eleven posts to this story. I thought you might be interested in knowing that.

Second, after the series finishes, I will begin adding non-fiction content to the posts again. As before, it may not be much and it may not even be original, but I feel that there should be a little more than a story in the posts. I tried it without that for a while but I don’t feel like I am actually talking to anyone with this anymore.

I think I should be.

So, you have been warned. Enjoy the next installment.

L. E. White

Results 8

Carl peeled off the rubber gloves and threw them into the bucket beside him, all the while, watching for any sign of change from the man strapped to the table.

It had taken longer to prepare the serum than he had expected. There was no way to know what exotic, designer drug the man had taken, but it had been hours before Carl could separate it from the sample to a sufficient extent to keep it from contaminating the test. Now, it was almost dawn and he was just waiting to see results.

“I might have to stay here today,” he said to himself as he walked over to the lawn chair. Carl began making notes in his tablet as he waited. According to the Emerald Tablet, the secrets of Alchemy allowed for the distillation of the true nature of anything to be extracted. By combining this with highly energetic particles Carl had hoped to work towards the truth of the Philosopher’s Stone.

I believe that test subject #2 will be a failure, he wrote. I believe this of both the first and second test subject because I am selecting people who are easy targets. My subjects are not pure or spirit. If this is the great work, as is mentioned is so many of the ancient texts, then it stands to reason that only a pure vessel will successfully be able to transmute. I think I am trying to polish turds at this point.

He sat the pad down and lifted his cup to get a drink. At the same time, the body on the table began to quiver. Carl spilled some of the apple juice on his lap in his haste to return to his notes. He sat with a cold, wet lap, and watched the man have a heart attack. Screams were silenced by the gag and convulsions rattled the table, but after a moment, it was over again.

Cardiac arrest and no change in the physical form.

Carl finished his notes, and then stood to clean himself up. Experimentation was often a slow and drawn out process without noticeable results. This combination of science and magic could expect nothing else.

He checked his watch. Time of death had been no more than ten minutes before dawn. Next time I will begin the injections at sundown, He thought. Give the serum more time to take effect before the natural point of reversal.

It made sense that the legends would have a grain of truth. The transformation should be ruled by the moon. There was no greater sign of continuous natural change. He must be waiting beyond the point of initial transformation.

Carl began to gather his materials, he would be ready to leave the moment the sun went down, then it was time to head somewhere new.

The sun’s light broke over the tops of the mountains to the east. The first rays glinted through the tiny basement window. Carl leaned down to unplug the camera when he heard the first snap.

As the man raised his eyes, he watched the body of the homosexual he had drugged and kidnapped the night before twitch. Another snapping sound came from the corpse and his ribs twitched. The pops continued and the shape on the table bent and moved. Hair sprouted and the restraints strained or tore as the figure moved with each adjustment.

Carl stepped forward, unable to help himself as he stared into the face of a creature that was now more rat than man. The beady black eyes blinked a few times in confusion as the monster woke. It looked at Carl, hissed and raised its free arm.

Then the rat-man whined, a pitiful sound that was a cross between a hungry puppy and a rusty door hinge.  The thing whined, pulled its arm back down the hold it across its stomach, and then blood began to bubble out of its nose.

Carl stepped backward, staring with wide eyes and breathing with flaring nostrils as it died again. Blood and other, fouler, fluids leaked out of the furry form that tried to curl up on the table.

Carl stood in awe struck stupidity as he looked at the corpse. It had changed, even though the night was gone. No moon, it had changed without governance.

Light from the window shined into his eyes and Carl raised his hand to shield them. Why did it change now?

The sun light was warm on his face and Carl gasped at the sensation. Of course it would be the sun. The transition of day to night was the most constant example of change in nature. The shift was ruled by the Sun.

He sat back down, scribbling in his pad, ignoring the stench or the sound of the dripping from the corner of the table. He scribbled and flipped back and forth, making new notes.

He had it.

Carl stood and dropped the pad into the chair. It was time to clean up and leave. It was time to prepare for a third experiment.

Two failures were about to be erased in a single success.

Two?

His hands dropped to his sides as Carl considered the first experiment. Her blood had not contained the chemicals, only alcohol.

What if?

He sat back down and started searching his phone for local news.

“Oh my god,” he said to himself, smiling and wide eyed as he began to hyperventilate. “Only one failure.”

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Categories: Flash Fiction, Horror, serial, Were
  1. July 18, 2013 at 12:19 AM

    I don’t know if you’re “talking to anyone” with these, but I’m enjoying the story! 🙂

  2. July 18, 2013 at 7:31 AM

    I am really glad to hear that.

    Maybe I should explain the other part a little better. It just seems that since I stopped adding some non-fiction content that I am throwing this out into the void without any chance for interaction. Some very helpful comments have come from the personal stuff that I included.

    It is also a prompt to write outside of my own fantasy worlds. Writing reviews and the like are exercising different writing muscles. I think this is probably a good thing.

    Thank you for reading.

    • July 18, 2013 at 11:33 PM

      Ah, I had a feeling that was what you meant, but I didn’t want to assume.

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