Okay, I wrote this for a school assignment/writing contest earlier this year (won the contest), but, I'd like feedback as to whether or not it's worth expanding into a novel, and any helpful suggestions. Thanks!
I have often wondered at that strange institution that society calls family, and how, by lacking one, people are shunned. No one truly knows what it is to be utterly alone, lost, and forsaken, because everyone, not matter their class or status, belongs to a “family”. But what if we didn’t belong? What if there was no one for us, no place for us to belong? Like the great ice bergs of the North, so too would be our hearts, hard and cold. And if someone had forced such an existence upon us, could we ever forgive them?
It was April of 1854, and I was traveling to Cambridge, to Girton College, for a lecture by a Dr. Knight, a well respected scientist. The rain was pouring, washing the grime away. I sat nervously, plaiting the black silk of my skirt. Dr. Knight had been a friend of my late father, dead for only a month past. In his invitation, the doctor had written that he had a matter of some urgency to discuss, concerning an experiment that he and my father had been conducting. As the carriage pulled up to the hall where the lecture would be held, I could see a man in a dark coat, his cravat askew, running down the steps to meet us. The driver opened the door. “Ahh, Miss Harper, welcome!” said Dr. Knight, taking my hand as I stepped out of the carriage. I opened my umbrella, covering us both. “Thank you sir.” I replied. He led my up the steps and into the hall. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to my umbrella. I gave it to him with my thanks. We walked towards a door at the end of the hall. “The lecture is in here.” he said. “Afterwards, if you will wait here, we may talk about the experiment that your father was in.” I nodded, and went into the lecture hall and took a seat. An hour and a half later, when the audience had left, I walked out. Dr. Knight was right outside the door, just as he promised. “Well, Miss Harper, what did you think?” he asked. “I thought it interesting sir.” I said, trying to hide my boredom, “I never thought that the study of meta-physics could be so engrossing.” He smiled. “You don’t have to lie Miss Harper. Although, I thank you for your politeness towards an old man.” He guided me into his office. “Have a seat, please.” I sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. He sat down in the other. “Now, Miss Harper-” “Emma” He nodded. “Very well then. Emma. I shall go straight to the point. Your father and I have been conducting an experiment involving a certain element that he had discovered, gorgonum, and its effects upon the human body, for the past thirty years. Your father’s exposure to it led to his developing a higher level of kinesthesia, as well as a degree of telekinesis. Sadly, it also led to the mutation of some of his cells, which is what caused his unfortunate death.”
He paused, rubbing his hand across his balding head. “Dr., I don’t see how I can help you in this. Your letter clearly stated that you were in immediate need of my help, and yet, I’ve no knowledge of this kind of science.” I said. “Due to your father’s death, we’ve no one who has the genetic structure needed to support the levels of for our experiments. As your father’s biological daughter, however, your body could house the gorgonum particles. Shaking, I asked, “What are you saying?” “That you could take your fathers place in the experiment.” His face was shinning with madness as he said this. “No!” I shouted, rising from my chair. He sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that my dear. I had hoped to have your cooperation. But.” he shrugged. “Roger.” he called. I turned as the door opened, a burly man walking in. “Sir?” Dr. Knight walked over to us, “Take Miss Harper to my carriage. I will follow shortly.” Turning to me he said. “Emma, my dear, have you ever heard of chlorophyll?” Roger pinned my arms behind my back, as Dr. Knight pressed a handkerchief against my face. The last thing I saw was his evil smile before I was enveloped in blackness and the sickly sweet smell of the handkerchief.
Dr. Knight sat in his chair in his study, a glass of port in hand, watching the fire dance and crackle. It provided a soothing counter towards the sound of the heavy downpour outside. He smiled to himself. His plan was going perfectly. When Lionel had died, he had thought that their entire experiment had died with him. Now, however, there was hope. He might not have the original carrier of the mutation, but he had the next best thing. Emma would be the salvation of the Medusa Project. Lost in his thoughts, he remembered the first time that Lionel had experienced the effects of the gorgonum. They had already lost the two cats that they had injected with the gorgonum. Lionel, had been finalizing the notes from the study, when, clumsy oaf that he was, he accidentally spilled some of the liquid onto a cut on his arm. But instead of going into cardiac arrest like the cats, and the two lab assistants, he lived. And he didn’t just live! He began to move faster, heal faster. The gorgonum had somehow awakened a dormant gene in his body. Lionel was intrigued by this, wanting to see what other gifts the gorgonum would give him. He didn’t care that he was beginning to turn into a corpse. But when he had accidentally killed his housekeeper just by looking at her, courtesy of a new effect of the gorgonum, he panicked. Lionel didn’t realize what this new power meant. But he, Percival James Knight, did. This new gift could be the most powerful weapon in the world. It would only have to be used once, and then the fear of it would be the most powerful deterrent to anyone who might want to wage a war. But when Lionel had gone and killed himself, he knew what he what would have to be done. It was a shot in the dark, but maybe, just maybe, Emma had inherited her father’s mutated gene. He smiled again. Lionel would be furious to know what he had in mind for his precious baby girl. “We shall see what tomorrow brings.” he said, with a final gulp of port.
Two Months Later…
I watch the ball roll back and forth, and then hover midair. I turn to see Dr. Knight scrawling notes as he watches me. He ignores my cough, which retches up blood. “Now, Emma, try spinning it.” I glare at him. He motions to Roger, who twists my arm up. Gasping in pain, I cry “STOP! PLEASE!”, and Roger releases me. I stare at the ball, willing it to spin. It does. “Excellent!” says Dr. Knight. He looks at Roger. “Now, I think some fresh air might do our patient some good.” Roger grunts, and unlocks my chains. Roughly, he yanks me out the door, down the hall, and out the door. Though its dusk, the light still hurts my eyes, which have become sensitive due to the gorgonum. I wince, trying to adjust to the light. My skin has become corpse gray and scaly, my once beautiful black hair, thin and lank. The gorgonum is slowly turning me into the walking dead. I breath in the cool Scottish air, grateful to be out of the dank indoors. The wool trousers and cotton shirt I’m wearing do little to keep me warm, as I begin to shiver. A nightingale begins to sing. Rogers gruff voice brings me back into my harsh reality. “Time to go back in.” I scowl at him. Of all of Dr. Knights servants, he is the only one who is not afraid of me. He leads me back into my cell, where Dr. Knight has been joined by a dog. “Now Emma,” he says, rubbing his pudgy little hands together, “We are going to try something new. This is Loki.” The dog wags its brown tail at his name. “I want you to kill him.” I gape at him. “What?” He gives me a cruel smile. “Kill him.” Backing, I shake my head. “This crosses the line, Dr. Knight. You have turned me into a freak! I will not let you make me a killer as well!” I shout. “Roge-” I whirl on Roger. “Don’t you dare touch me!” I hiss, glaring at him, my anger at everything flooding my psyche. He stops, gasps, clutches his chest, and falls down, dead. “Just like Medusa herself.” whispers Dr. Knight reverently. I turn to him. “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it.” he asks, patronizingly. I snap. This is my chance to avenge myself, to end it. Moving faster than the human eye can she, I’m at his throat, with my hands wrapped around it. “This won’t be either.” With two quick twists, I feel the bone snap like a dry twig. I hear a whine. Loki is cowering in a corner. I walk over to him. “Here boy.” I say, clapping my hands at him. Slowly, timidly, he walks up to me, and licks my offered hand. His tail begins to wag again. I stand back up. “Let’s go.” I head out the door, Loki at my heels. The servants see me, and scatter, though I hear a scream that tells me they found the bodies. Loki run out the doors, through the lawn, and into the woods, leaving Hell behind us.
The small fire gave off a comforting glow in the blue black night. Loki snorred at me feet, his leg twitching every so often.. I stared into the fire. “What am I to do?” I whispered to it. I couldn’t go back. That was painfully obvious. Both my parents were dead, and even if they were still alive, how could they accept a monster as their daughter. For that, I realized, was what I was now. I had seen how society scorned ugly people, and now I was hideous. If that didn’t make me freakish enough, the powers that the gorgonum had forced on me, especially the death stare, would further alienate me. I was an outcaste now, barely able to even call myself human. I looked down as Loki barked himself awake. Scratching his head, I asked, “What should we do? Do you know?” He tilted his head quizzically, as if asking how he should now. I sighed. “I thought so. In any case, we can’t stay here.” He huffed his agreement. “Come on,” I said, laying down next to him, “Let’s go to sleep.”
Loki ran ahead of me, barking at the gulls. I winced as the noon sun stung my eyes, and pulled the cloak that I had stolen further down my face. It had been a week since our escape, and in that week, Loki and I had managed to find our way to the northern coast of Scotland. If I was correct, then we were near the Orkneys, a group of isolated, scraggly islands, some of which were uninhabited. Loki ran up to me, a stick in his mouth, begging me to throw it. “Not now.” I murmured to him. He whined. We had been trekking just off the main road, to avoid people. The traffic on the road had increased, so I guessed that we were near a town. That meant that there could possibly be a boat that I could steal. “Come on Loki!” I called, walking deeper into the brush, looking for a place to camp until night. He trotted ahead, flushing out a hare. I jumped at it, grabbed it, and wrung its neck. In all my life, I had never thought that I would have to resort to hunting for my food, much less skin and dress it. Loki barked, and I saw that he was standing at the base of a small hill, where the was a small copse of trees. “Good boy!” I called, running down the hill to him. Once in the copse, I began to skin the hare, gutting it, and giving the scraps to Loki. I started a tiny fire, to smoke the meat, and the pulled the cloak over my head, and went to sleep.
I ran down the row of cottages, down to the dock, towards the small skiff that was my goal. The sausages that Loki had stolen, bounced in the bag that I had thrown over my back. I grabbed Loki, pressing us both against a wall, as two drunk townsmen walked past us. I held my breath. Once they were out of earshot, I ran to the skiff, Loki close at my heels. We jumped in. As I began to untie the mooring lines, I thanked God that my father had been fond of sailing. I pushed off, terrified that the cloud cover would disappear, allowing the full moon to illuminate us, or that someone would see us. Loki rubbed against my leg, as if to comfort me. I smiled at him, my sole family, the one thing that kept me living in this cruel world. I steered the skiff out of the bay, leaving the village and humanity behind me.
The island that we came to was a rocky place, with heather and thistle growing on whatever patches of earth they could find. I tied the skiff to a boulder that lay nearby. Loki whined. “Ssshh, what is it boy?” I knelt down to scratch his ears. He licked my hand nervously. “Come on,” I said, “Let’s go see what’s here.” We walked inland a little ways, over rocky hills and thorny bluffs until we came upon a small cottage that was nestled between two hills. Shack was a better term for it actually. It must have been well kept for a while, but it hadn’t be tended for at least twenty years. The thatching was nearly gone, the wooden that was hanging off of it hinges, was probably rotten. But the stone walls were still strong. I started forward. I immediately felt a tug on my shirt. Loki had bitten it and was trying to pull me back. I yanked my shirt once. “Now none of that!” I scolded. “Stay or go, it’s your decision. But don’t try to decide for me!” He let go. I walked slowly, ready to turn and run if something emerged from the shack. I gave the door a gentle push, and walked into the gloom of the house. I was shocked. I half expected to find ruined furniture and other signs of neglect that would match the outside. Instead, a rough, but well built table and a chair sat in the middle of the room. I walked further inside and froze. It wasn’t the shiny brass kettle that hung in the fireplace. No. It was the low burning fire that was beneath that sent a bolt of fear through my body. That fear doubled as I felt the knife at my throat. “Who are ye, an’ what are ye do’in ere? The thick Scottish burr was male. “N-n-n-nothing. I got lost, and was looking for someplace to take shelter for the night. “Liar.” he hissed. “Turn around’ slowly.” “”I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I said. It wasn’t. I still didn’t have complete control over what my eyes could do. “An whys tha?” “Because I could kill you if I look at you.” I heard a growl from behind us. Loki had come to my rescue. I felt the knife move from my throatt as its holder turned. “Call off yer dog!” he said. I turned, squinting my eyes to try to keep them at bay. My attacker had his back to me. He was about two inches taller than I was, and didn’t look much older either. In fact, if I had to guess, I would say he was younger. “Put the knife down, and I will.” I said. He nodded, and the knife fell out of his hands. “Loki.” Loki looked at me, as if trying to see that I was alright. “Come.” He whined, seeming sad to give up his prey. “You can kill me by just lookin’ at me?” the boy asked. “Yes.” His head turned slightly towards me. “DON’T!” I screamed. “Directly at me?” he asked. I was puzzled. “Yes. I do believe that I made it perfectly clear Mr.-?” “Robert. Robert McCliff. Look,” he said, “If you go inside, by me bed, there’s some sun spectacles. I’m willing to bet that those will be enough to keep your eyes under control.” “How do I know you won’t try to attack me?” I asked. Robert snorted. “Because yer dog will rip mythroat out if I try.” “Good point. Loki, guard.” Loki crouched down low, ready to spring at Robert if he made the slightest movement. The cottage’s interior was mercifully dark. I found the bed in a far corner, a small table next to it. The bed was unmade, its ragged quilt bunched up and jumbled, as if the sleeper had rolled out of bed with out giving it a second thought. The spectacles were on the crude little nightstand, on top of an open book. With the specs in one hand, I picked it up. It was the Bible. I hadn’t seen a Bible in months. Looking at the smooth pages, I noticed that one verse in particular was underlined in pencil. I squinted, trying to read it. “For I know the thoughts that I think towards you’ saith the Lord, ‘thoughts of peace, and not of evil, thoughts to give you an expected end.” My voice cracked. I jumped as Robert called out “Miss? Ye find them specs? Yer dog’s makin’ me skittish” I put the Bible down quickly, and slipped the specs on. Oddly, they did little to darken the already dim room. “Yes.” I called back. “Alright. I’m going to come in , so call yer dog.” I broke out in a sudden panic. “A-a-are you sure?” I stammered, “It’s an awfully big gamble.” “It’s one I’m willin to make.” he said “Fine. Loki, come.” I heard a whine. “Now.” Loki trotted in, head low, tail between his legs. I looked up. That’s when we saw each other. His face! Oh God, his face! It was twisted and knarled like the bole of an oak tree, pitted and poxed. His storm grey eyes were huge in his face. His ears, if they could be called such, were sunken deep into his head, like a bat’s. His arms were too long, the hands more like claws than human hands. I looked back at his face. The shock and horror on my face were perfectly reflected in his, as he saw the monstrosity that was me. Robert recovered his decorum first. “Well,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “Are ye hungry miss?” I shook myself out of my paralysis. “Emma. Actually, I’m famished! Thank you.” He nodded, bent over the pot in the fireplace, ladling a stew or soup into a bowl he had grabbed. He straightened up, the bowl brimming. “Sit.” he said, gesturing to one of the stools near him. I went over and did as I was told. He handed me the bowl, and began ladling up another two, one of which he set down in front of Loki, who wagged his tail with his new found love for Robert. He walked over to a small chest, taking out two spoons. “I suppose that asking ‘What happened?’ is a bit thick for both of us?” I said in between gulps of the hearty stew. He laughed. “Ye could say tha Emma. But if ye want at ask it, I’ve no shame in how I look.”
I set my bowl down, where it was greedily slurped up by Loki. “What happened?” I asked quietly. Robert stirred his stew absently. “I was born like this. Well, more or less.” he amended with a smirk. “How do you mean?” I asked. “I was born with my ears and hands. My mother was horrified when she saw the devil she had birthed. She tried to drown me, but my uncle, Aidan, stopped her. Said that every life’s from God, and is precious. But that didn’t stop her from trying to kill me in other ways. I was five the day she did this to my face.” He paused, gesturing at his warped skin. “My uncle was gone that day, else I don’t think she would have tried it. I was sitting at our table, practicing my letters, when she pulled my head back, threw me onto the floor, and started to pour acid on me. She was screaming that ‘since I was a demon, and killed her baby to take its place, I should look more like one.’ I remember begging her to stop. Luckily, my uncle came home then. He pulled her off me, and poured our horse trough over me. He kept pouring bucket after bucket of water on me. After he was sure I would live, he brought me here. He visits twice a month, to bring supplies.” I was horrified. “And your mother?” A shadow crossed his face. “Dunno.” he said flatly. I could tell that he was lying. We sat silently, staring at the fire. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “You can take the bed, if your tired.” I frowned. “But-” “Just because the Orkneys are at the edge of ‘civilization’, do you think that we would take a bed when a lady or a guest has none? I’ll be fine. I’ve extra blankets in the chest.” I smiled. He was a gentleman. Oh, the irony of it all. Dr. Knight had been societies definition of a gentleman on the outside, but he had been the Devil himself when it came to his experiments. Society would run in terror at the sight of Robert and I, and yet, here was one monster offering his bed to another. I realized then what was happening. Though we had scarce known each other for more than an evening, Robert and I, drawn by our outcaste status, were becoming something that society had decreed that we should not have: a family. We were doing the impossible for our kind. For once, we belonged.
