She gawped as it approached her—that horror of mangled flesh warped together, wide lifeless eyes, and that smiling mouth emitting the name only her could-have-been baby had the right to call her.

She looked at her husband, who was sitting at his desk with his face buried in one palm; the other hand lay near his revolver.

“Darling, what did you do?”

Shuddering, the scientist squeezed the hand around his face, covered his eyes.

“I just—I wanted to play God for a day.”


Originally from my hitRECord acccount.


One thought on ““Mommy?”

  1. Pingback: Aftermath | For Lack of Some Good Writing

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