2023-11-18 06:32:39A year ago, within the Turner household. Dr. Emily Turner, the brilliant geneticist who was on the verge of a groundbreaking research opportunity, stood in the kitchen in her home, the aroma of fresh coffee mingling with the bittersweet fragrance of impending separation.
She had made up her mind that if she was to finish up her research, then he needed to go to a place with a better research facility. This decision had come with the condition that she might have to leave her family behind for at least a year. It had taken a year and half for the facility to approve her proposal and financial grant needed to continue her work.
Her husband, James had moved around the room that morning with a sense of quiet purpose, his eyes betraying the heaviness of the moment. Their four-year-old son, Ethan, oblivious to the weight of impending farewells, played with his toy cars on the living room floor, blissfully unaware that his world was about to shift.
Emily, was wearing her crisp white lab coat, which to her symbolized the world of scientific possibilities awaiting her. She stole glances at her husband, whose gaze held a reservoir of unspoken sentiments. That morning as she moved to the bedroom, her heart was heavy.
Her suitcase lay open on the bed, waiting to be filled with the essentials for a journey that would span not just miles but the intricate contours of their familial bond. Emily carefully folded her clothes, her movements deliberate yet tinged with a subtle urgency. She stole a glance at the family photos adorning the dresser – snapshots frozen in time, capturing smiles and shared adventures.
As Emily packed, James sat on the bed, his fingers tracing the edge of a photograph featuring the three of them at the beach, the sun setting behind them in a burst of warm hues.
"Are you sure about this, Em?" James had asked, his voice a whisper that barely grazed the air.
Emily nodded, her eyes reflecting the depth of her conviction. "It's an opportunity, James. One that could redefine everything for us."
James held Emily's hand, fingers entwined in a silent pact. "This opportunity is monumental," she said, her gaze searching his eyes for understanding. James who knew how much her work meant to her, nodded, a mixture of pride and sorrow etched on his face. In the quiet exchange of glances, love spoke volumes.
Ethan, her four year old son had toddled into the room with a toy airplane in hand. "Mommy, can you fly like this?" he asked, innocence radiating from his wide eyes. The drive to the airport had a similar atmosphere to what was experienced at home.
As the hour for departure loomed, Emily stood at the airport terminal. James hugged her warmly. He had been trying to be positive ever since Emily had made up her mind to continue her research abroad at a better facility.
"I'll be back before you know it," Emily had whispered, her hand resting on his cheek.
James had nodded, "We'll be here waiting"
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Monte Pizzaro wrapped the black rosary gently in his palm and made the sign of the cross. He had been watching the designated window for an hour now. He sucked air into his nostrils in a controlled manner and exhaled after holding for a few seconds.This was a part of his preparation routine. Monte recalled how the events of the night had panned out. Not so bad he reasoned, except the prey had somehow found a way to survive despite the skills of the predator. He pulled his sleeves up and studied the engraving on his watch."If we are not monsters, then we are food"Tonight however, Monte knew he was no food. He remembered the numerous times in his past life when he had been weak. The times when he had been food to the hungry predators of the world."Not tonight", he thought, "Not forever".Science had to go. Science had been responsible for the loss of his young family. Science had made him weak, it had made him vulnerable, but not anymore. He looked around him at the unsuspecting pas
Questions
Toby was seated on a small chair just outside the security check office, waiting for officer Philip who was still talking to another officer.He wondered why he was still being held in the complex when all he wanted to do was be in the hospital. He had to see Emily and seating here waiting, was making him nervous.The news tonight had exploded like as bomb in his head , much like everyone else. Toby had fixed a date this night with a girl he had met at karaoke a few weeks ago, after several rescheduling due to the gruelling demands of working with Emily Turner."This work will change the course of history", he could still recall Emily saying to him. She had made him, or rather he had sacrificed those date nights in order to help her in the laboratory, and now this?Sometimes Toby wondered if he was in-love with the researcher. For Eight long months he had come into the Lab at awkward hours at the request of Emily. "Toby, I know how much of your life you have given up for me. Not that
Dr. Palmer
Roooooooooooar!!!The animal in chains was tugging dangerously at the extra heavy iron chains that secured it neck and feet. This was 900 pound lion-gorrila hybrid. A gorilla with the head of an African lion. The beast pounded its chest angrily and roared again.Earlier that day, and about seven hours before Monte Pizarro had began stalking Emily Turner, Dr. Palmer had been facing this monster of an animal.This special hydrid had been shipped to England by Alexis Monroe. This was one of the flagship of Alexis research work over the years. The use of genetically engineered animals was nothing new at all. For ten years now, certain animals have been engineered to perform certain functions to near perfection.Certain species of worker bees had been modified to produce pure honey in very large quantities in factories, almost without the interference of humans. In Africa, wall geckos twice their normal size had been modified to feed mostly on mosquitoes. This had eliminated the need for t
Flowers for Emily?
The person who lay on the hospital bed in the city central hospital when James entered, looked nothing like his wife Emily Turner. Emily who was attacked by multiple modified Indonesian needlefish endured numerous puncture wounds, potentially deeper and more widespread compared to a single normal needlefish attack.On the hospital bed, post operation where Emily lay, she was displayed in a series of stitched and bandaged wounds across her body, especially around her limbs and torso. The overall effect gave off the idea of a badly mutilated rag doll. The kind of thing you might read about or see in a horror movie, but this was no movie, this was the city's central hospital and James was struggling to process the image of the damaged figure he was looking at.Just a few weeks ago, Ethan their son had been excited about the prospect of his mother finally returning home. The house was just not the same without his mother and although his dad performed his fatherly duties to a fault,
The Emergency
Emily Turner's frantic gasps echoed in the tank, her pulse racing in tandem with the alarming thrum of the needlefish tank's filters. She'd been inadvertently locked in, left isolated among the piscine inhabitants that soon turned aggressors."These fishes are naturally peaceful", she thought as she struggled. "This aggressive behavior have been induced". The Indonesian needlefish, now looking sleek and menacing, darted around her, their silvery bodies catching the glint of the lab's artificial lights.Emily's panicked screams reverberated, but her calls for help remained unheard, swallowed by the sterile walls of the sealed tank in the laboratory.Minutes stretched endlessly, each passing second etching terror deeper into her being. She fought to fend off the relentless assault of needle-like snouts, the piercing bites scoring her skin as she struggled against the relentless onslaught. With every lash of their razor-sharp beaks, pain exploded in waves through her body."God please sa
Confession
Earlier that morning, as Rev. Father Marco, who was adorned in immaculate vestments, stood in the confessional booth, which was a sanctum of whispered confessions and hushed absolutions, his mind was heavy.The morning sun filtered through the stained-glass windows of the church, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the wooden pew. Father Marco felt the weight of a secret gnawing at the sanctity of his thoughts."Is this the will of God?", he thought.The morning mass had just been concluded and Father Marco sat in the confessional, the worn wood beneath him a familiar comfort amidst the turmoil churning within. As he waited, the soft rustle of footsteps approached, and a parishioner entered the adjoining booth, their silhouette obscured by the wooden screen that separated penitent from confessor.The voice that emerged from the other side was tentative, and just beyond a whisper that carried the weight of unspoken sins. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," the parishioner began, their
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