Brunette in glasses

I rarely dream.

When I sink into the pillow and Angelique's scent washes over me, all I ever recall is that surreal feeling of floating before falling unconscious into blackness. I

appreciate those moments of peace from my own thoughts.

When I do dream, it's always the same. I rise from the bed, it is dark. I walk across the room to the bathroom, with a strange pressure sometimes a tickling sensation

in my abdomen. The floor of the bathroom is ice cold against my footpads. I reach for the light switch with one hand, and run the other over my stomach. I jerk it away

as my skin feels strange, and there is a warm sticky substance on my fingertips.

The light comes on and I see the cause. Under my right arm, down my side, holes. Round shallow holes in my skin, raw wounds, oozing a clear liquid, matting in my fur.

In this dream I am not afraid, even as I see things writhing beneath my skin. I know that they are rising from my womb, in my dream this is logical. I lift my arm over

my head and the holes stretch and distort. I run my fingertips over it, there is a stinging sensation. I press my fingertips into them and the stinging becomes more

intense but not unpleasant, a burning warm sensation begins to radiate all across my side.

It's only when I feel movement right beneath my finger I jerk my hand away. The pressure released sends a jolt of pain across my body. My fur stands on end. I cannot

look away from these holes even as the movement beneath my skin becomes more intense. My flesh is bulging from the pressure just below its surface.

I cannot look away.



Though I usually reserve my note taking for my medical endeavors, but I feel I need to record tonights experience, as it may be significant to said endeavors. I am not

one to believe in premonition, but the sensation I am experiencing is nothing short of panic, induced by of all things, a dream.

I rarely dream, save for one or two strange recurring ones. I had spent the weekend moving some of Angeliques belongings into the house, she is quite the scatterbrain,

(though I mean that in the most endearing way) and I discovered quite recently she had a storage unit in her name which was defaulting on the payments. Scatterbrained,

as I said.

After balancing the account I gained access, and I discovered a number of boxes, old school books, nick-knacks and most curiously a box of personal records. These are

as I write this next to me in my study. I will admit my curiosity is overwhelming but I respect Angeliques privacy, she is quite reserved about her family and her

history. Still... it is like an itch in the back of my mind.

After a glass of wine I had headed to bed, tired from moving around boxes and cleaning out the storage shed. I fell asleep quickly, the sound of light rain on the roof

and Angeliques scent on my skin.

And then I began to dream. In the dream the world was enormous, and I was a tiny spec, no bigger than your index finger. I recall in the logic of the dream I questioned

this and some force assured me I was not a micro-fauna, the world was simply much larger than me. Curious, how our subconscious rationalizes such nonsense. I was

walking along a table, cold underfoot, like stainless steel. It was dark and the reek of chemicals and bleach was heavy in the air.

I could hear heavy vibration, incredibly deep and loud, it made the ground shake beneath me. When I looked up I could see figures, their faces obscured as they towered

above me, only the reflection of their spectacles gleaming in my direction. They are talking and gesturing but I cant understand, the air just vibrates and hums in a

frequency I cant process. They feel familiar, and I am scared, scared because they are so much larger with so much power over me.

I run and become unable to move, standing atop a silver flat plate. It is linked to a number of colorful wires and I feel drained. In the dream I knew they were taking

my blood, all of it, draining from my frame. I can see numbers and analytics in garbled numerals on the walls. I turn to see one of the figures shake his head, and I

know he sees my thoughts. I cry out as he strikes a button on the wall.

There is a split second that follows that lasts an eternity. I seem to view it from outside my body seeing every terrible detail. My body unravels, my skin flays from

flesh in elegant spirals, stretching and tearing, falling from my body as easily as a virgins gown on her wedding night. My tendons snap, every fibers of muscle tearing

and springing back from the bone, their tensile strength lost. My abdomen opens, and my innards pour out exposed and twisting apart. I feel my cells distorting, I feel

my genes betray me, I feel my double helixes come undone, base pairs rejecting one another in a beautiful, terrible moment. I hear their laughter, and I am helpless.

I awoke drenched in sweat, clutching at my wrists, where the flesh first began to flay away. My heart has only just stopped its panicked pace. I do not believe in

premonition, but this dream reminds me of a quest long abandoned. A plan I failed to follow up on, distracted in my romance and my work from my true goals. I will find

those figures from my dream, I remember their names even now. I will find each and every one and make sure they are never able to turn my genes against me...

Its been over a month since I relocated the unidentified organism that invaded the maternity ward to a holding room in the unused building. It was and has continued to be an arduous task to keep it confined. I have managed to keep it at bay with a combination of locks, sealant and a cattle prod.

So far I have been unable to classify the organism at all. It does not fall into any of the known species on earth. As such I have taken to calling it Subject Zero, and have spend many hours watching the undulating movement as it tests the strength of its cage over and over. Recently it has become more vocal, parroting babies cries and screams when I walk past the viewing window. I daresay it recognizes me now as its captor, and this was some form of communication. I have not offered it any food since securing it and it occurred to me that perhaps it was hungry, maybe even starving.

Down the hall I hear angry yelling that has filled the wing for the last few months. Lucas, as he calls himself, is in solitary confinement, chained to a bed. His recovery from the parasite removal is going well, and the wound area is healing nicely.



Unfortunately his temperament has remained hostile throughout the healing process, despite my explaining what the procedure had accomplished. I am regularly greeted with him screeching 'Shut up! SHUTUP! You BITCH let me out of here!'. His aggression is unexpected, after his castration I had expected the aggression to subside somewhat with the lack of testosterone flooding his system.

With the unrelenting aggression in the patient I know he is a poor candidate for release, as I walked down the hall towards his room considering my options with him Subject Zero continues to mewl like an infant pressing its bulbous eyes again the glass to look down the hall after me.


I have come to the conclusion that Lucas cannot be fully rehabilitated, I have learned much from him and hope that there is potential to learn a little more, and have his...disposal...not be a waste.

I wheeled him into Subject Zeros room. I had to fight the creature off with a few jabs of the cattle prod. It curled into a tangled mass in the corner allowing me to wheel Lucas into the center of the room. I had given him a mild muscle relaxant, enough to weaken him to the point he couldnt walk. He was conscious though and as I closed and sealed the door he spat one slightly slurred comment.
'You bitch, I'll kill you, you took my balls I'll fuck you with a knife! Just wait! This isnt fucking over!'

What happened next was truly fascinating. It was only a few moments after closing the door that the creature approached the intruder, completely unphased by the sudden panicked screaming. It spent a few moments investigating the wolf, beginning to drool heavily all over itself. It felt around to locate the knee join, then remarkably its fingers began the penetrate the flesh, not unlike a knife through butter. The flesh began to come apart, patella popping out of its joint easily, and bright blood beginning to pour out of the wound. The viscous saliva was also having a visible reaction to the fluffy substance on its neck, turning into a lumpy fibrous cement like paste. I can only surmise this was to form a seal on the wound, keeping the rest of the meal fresh as it were.

I continue to watch the rest of the process, transfixed. My heart is a-flutter with the potential application of this abilities in my wider research, and delighted that my dear Lucas will be with me for at least a few more months...at least most of him.