Crawling out the jar, Helena’s eyes gaped upon the fluorescent lighting all around her, before retreating into her little shell. After so many years of failed experiments in order to procreate, the little girl emerged from her shell, just half an hour after closing time.
With wings of flesh and webbing like a frog’s, Helena tried flapping her wings for a moment, but only went up a foot before falling down on the glass. Glancing at the stretch marks across it, Helena felt it rub against her like a smooth
Leaping off of her containment, she felt the slick, plasticine desks slide underneath her webbed claws; her reptailian form obscured from her humanoid body. The clock ticked with a calming precision, though with each second passing, Helena retreated down to the pit of the sink. The lights dimmed further as the people outside decided nothing else would happen that evening, though when Helena turned her face back to the ceiling, she snapped her neck back to the sink.
Although the steel drain didn’t showcase her reflection, she kept on spinning around it, trying to find a way to the bottom. A drop of water fell, and she retreated back to the edge, wondering about its substance. Crawling, with her limbs making sense of their power in this little environment.
All of a sudden, somebody knocked on the door. The thumps startled this little creature, and so she struggled to get out of the sink. Her webs caught on the handle, and unleashed the tap water in a continuous flow. Startled, she leapt once again, only this time, to the cabinets.
Her hands slid towards the handles, and she clung onto the handles like a monkey swinging on bars. Her hair breezed through her face, trying to get a better glimpse of the darkening room, with only a sliver of light remaining.
“Hello? Did something go wrong with our Generation A?” The voice came out. Helena swung for a little bit, but only remained in the same place. To launch is to hunt down the enemy, and wrench out the life needed for her to sustain her own.
