CREEPYPASTA VOL 2

Dyscrasia

If I had been born into a just world, I wouldnt have been born at all. At the very least, I would have been extinguished as soon as I came into the world, while I was still soft and weak. My survival is an anomaly. The existence of beings like myself was condemned by law, and yet, I exist. Money must have exchanged hands; Teacher had always been quite wealthy. I still remember lying in fine silks, surrounded by soft mountains of plush toys when I was very young. I remember silver bells and soft-footed servants and all kinds of expensive meals at our extensively long table. I ate on one end. Teacher ate on the other. There was never anyone else with us, but that was good. The silence suited me. It suited the both of us.

I am the best of Teachers creations. There were a few of us, but I was never sure how many. The house we lived in was huge, and I wasnt always formally introduced. Sometimes I would go to the nursery and thered be a crib with a lovely new addition to our family, waving however many arms and legs it had at me from its lacy little cage. I loved them the best when they were like this. I would wave back and tickle them and play with them and tell them about all the many lessons I would have. They would just smile and gurgle back at me, not comprehending but still engaging. The older siblings kept to themselves mostly. They had their own rooms and were too poorly formed to be allowed to wander the halls like I was. Wed had accidents with our servants encountering them in the past. A few of our halls still held the rusty stains as proof. They wouldnt stay for long. Sometimes the numbers on the door would be erased, or switched out with new ones.

Id tried to initiate a game with one of the others once when it escaped, just a simple card game. It was a sibling that was a couple years younger than me, the third longest lasting. I found it in the sun room, chewing its nails and pawing at the many out-of-place wrinkles on its face. I didn't know whether it was a brother or a sister; Teacher didn't really bother with that sort of thing for anyone but me. I approached it that day when I was particularly bored, and placed the deck in front of them. They stared at them and then at me, twisting an already twisted face into something more grotesque, something I couldnt not describe. I shouldnt have been surprised when they lunged at me. I should have fought them off, I know, but I didnt feel the urge. I laid underneath them, frozen, while their teeth tore at my neck. I could see my dark blood seeping into my nice white shirt, staining my siblings teeth with a viscous umber coating. It was hard to watch, given the angle, but I did. I was almost disappointed when the servant pulled them off of me and I was taken away to the infirmary. Teacher took one look at my ruined body and shook his head. He dipped his finger into my blood and rubbed it between his fingers, frowning. My most major flaw, spreading across his tiles with every pump of my heart.

He muttered a few other things as he picked up my weakening body and took me to his lab for repairs. Hed always had his problems with me; too slow to wake, sluggish reaction time, temperature too low, but the one that bothered me the most was the darkness of my blood. When it dried, it was jet black, like my hair and eyes. The sludge in my pipes was the result of a faulty system. No being is perfect, but I am supposed to be. An improvement on the piecemeal game that is genetics and random human breeding. I was supposed to advance civilization, not bleed my black blood over a deck of cards. Maybe I should have offered them something else, at least, but the point is moot. That sibling is gone now. Thinking of it makes the scars on my neck itches, so I dont dwell on it.

One afternoon, while Teacher was out attending a conference, I snuck into his lab. I saw essentially what I had expected to see. Glass tubes full of future and former siblings, body parts growing independently in tanks, a huge industrial tub labeled Bioscrap. A classic chalkboard full of metabolic pathways stood next to a giant computer running calculations too complex for an organic mind. A bust of Hippocrates, Teachers hero, looming over the whole mess like an impassive god. I honestly dont know why I bothered to look. I knew this is where I was born. I knew this is where I would die. I imagined myself, after too much dark bleeding and disappointing behavior, lying at the top of the bioscrap heap, waiting to be re-purposed. I took one last look around, then shut the door. I never bothered to go back to the lab after that.