Untitled Collection of Horror Poetry

Poem Two: The Babel Research Station (Narrative) Part 1

Genesis 11:6

I was one of the first researchers at the Babel station.

With the support of Thorne Inc.,

I expected to accomplish great innovation,

not noticing their greedy stink.

Both the main researchers had their own departments.

Dr. Morgan had the upper levels, 

and Dr. Wallace was set up in the basement.

In hindsight, they were both corporate whores.

I signed up to work with Dr. Morgan, 

And our main goal was to fin an unlimited source of power.

Hoping to harness the energy from a mineral we call [redacted].

Our ultimate hope was to eliminate the need of sources of global warmers.

We had been working on the generator for years.

when we were close to getting to a creation able to test,

And the pressure of success caused me to have several fears.

We were all ready to get some well deserved rest.

As we applied our finishing touches,

We had the burden to host the corporate representative,

who was tasked with reducing the risk of her boss's riches.

The new oversight and criticism made us all a bit over sensitive.

Our new overseer, Elizabeth Clark, was a tall, slender woman,

and she always carried a cold and distant demeanor.

After getting off the copper, she immediately pursued her mission.

I was volunteered to make accommodations for her.

"Dr. Elena Farrell? Clark asked when I met her on the helipad.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied. "We have your room ready."

"Has a test been scheduled?" she asked, looking down at her notepad.

"Not yet," I confessed. "We're still making adjustments to make the charge steady."

"I expect a test within the next forty eight hours," she said.

"I'll check with Dr. Morgan for a time," I said as we got out of the Kansas heat.

"If this project doesn't bear fruit soon, I may have to declare it dead."

"We'll meet expectations," I said not wanting to discuss defeat.

I left her to get settled into her room,

and I searched for Dr. Morgan to pass on her demand.

He agreed to Clark's request and unknowingly our doom,

and she wouldn't even stay to be among the damned.

All the next day, we worked on the rock.

We never figured out how it made a charge,

But its constant red glow seemed to promise secrets to unlock.

We all hoped for our success to bring something large.

A world on clean energy

with no consequence on future generations.

Suffering just a thing on distant memory,

and world peace among all the nations.

Until a deprived mind creates the ultimate weapon.

A laser to burn the whole world to Hell.

If our discovery ultimately causes Armageddon,

Would it matter if our intentions were well?

After making great progress,

I decided to return to my quarters.

I had to rest as expectations were perfection and no less,

and that night I dreamed of being interview by TPN reporters.

I awoke later to a strange sound,

and not knowing was an unrelenting torment.

On the floor the source I found:

A growl coming from the vent.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I plan to post two more parts on this poem. I have about half of part 2 written as of typing this. Feel free to comment below or on my X/Twitter account.