Project Dionysus

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 3 (v.1)

Submitted: October 19, 2012

Reads: 62

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 19, 2012




I didn’t know why I was drawn to this man. Maybe it was the music and the way it calmed me enough so I could control myself. I had slid in while he drunk to himself in-between songs he played. My acute hearing had adapted itself and I simply listened to him for the hour he did until he finally stopped and stumbled drunken to his room. I watched him the whole way and as he neared the end of the hallway his grip loosened on the bottle while he turned. I hid in the darkness of the room my panic to find a hiding spot flaring my body up again. A part of me wanted to tear the man’s throat out but I fought against it. He stared into the darkness where I lay for a moment before chuckling to himself and entering his bedroom. I un-tensed as I heard him slip into bed. Why don’t I just leave? The window is still open, I’m free. So why do I feel like I have to stay? Is it because of his music? I don’t know. The ichor dripped off me slowly as I laid there. I had gained control of the outbreaks and I slowed the Ichor down a great deal. I have finally made a coherent form by observing other life. I don’t know how but I felt myself shift as I watched a strange thing… I think it was called a dog? I can’t say for sure. The change wasn’t too painful as I already had a similar bone structure. The ichor falls from my fur as I walk or exert myself. The more calm I am the greater control I seem to have over my body. I haven’t tested my limits yet but I’m not sure that I want to… how many more deaths would that cause? The animal in me doesn’t care. I am a monster now… whatever is left of my past lives doesn’t matter anymore. Who they were shouldn’t matter to me. Then why do they? I am no longer among mankind so why should I act like more than a beast? I am a beast. Humans have done nothing but cause me pain and suffering. They should pay, but something is stopping me. Is it my humanity? Or did they simply put a failsafe on me? I can’t tell. I just want to know what I am, and if my existence has more meaning than being someone’s personal weapon. If that means living until I can find those answers fine. This place can provide me with temporary safety. I should leave in the morning. Sirens blare in the distance but I find myself unable to be bothered by them. I knew they would be looking for me. I didn’t know who but those sent to capture me wouldn’t either. Why bother with them? They wouldn’t know who had given the order unless  they had invented a codename,  besides, I hadn’t left any tracks. Their base had been quite well hidden within the sewer systems but I found my way out. Thinking back to the documents there were… more experiments than just me. The details of each burned into my memory. Alpha, beta, gamma, delta. The list went on with the document of mine never having been completed. The name of my document was the only name I had for myself, Sigma. Then at the root, where all I could glean about it was the name, was Omega. So heavily covered in red tape, to me it seemed a wonder that boy had known about it. Still, from the trend in the rest of the documents. In which the test subject often died minutes after being created, or altered in the earlier tests. I could guess that this Omega was also dead. Though a few never did mention their expiration, but even if they are alive I can’t be sure they would even have answers or, where they were. Did my memories belong to them? Either way I was just one experiment in this project and I seem to be the only one who escaped. Successfully at least. Still thinking about Omega I feel strange. It’s as if I’m afraid of it and yet I don’t know why. Did I know it? Then why can’t I remember it? I have to find answers, but, I don’t know where I’d start. I should hide before getting any rest. It wouldn’t do to let that human see me so I got up and walked over the kitchen and to the sink which had a large cupboard under it. I growled slightly as I formed a small whip of ichor which flung outwards towards the door handle, wrapping around it. I nearly pulled the door off its hinges with a snap that led to a snort coming from the bedroom making me flinch. I stood still expecting to hear footsteps but found that silence pervaded the apartment. I crept into the cupboard curling up. He was obviously conservative with space as I fit easily. I feel my eyes begin to slide shut as silence takes over and I barely hear the sirens that blare in the distance.

 Even in my dreams I have no respite from the memories which appear in cracked frames. They are incoherent and mixed. Scenes flash randomly presenting no coherent scene. Then everything stopped as if time had frozen. The scene began to start again but the subject was changed. I saw flashes of a man. In many different places like battlefields often standing at the centre of the gore. Then it showed a woman being buried, the man stood far in the distance while the sun outlined his figure until the coffin was lowered. Then he turned to look at me and I saw he was a man, with the face of a wolf. It stared beyond me with anger and I saw the flash of a documents title.

The Cain Experiment.

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