The lights flickered.
Irritated, she glanced up. Before long, though, her attention returned to the life flourishing in her hands, the little tendrils thickening and lengthening, strengthening, slithering up her arms, winding itself around and around – tight enough to have a presence, yet slack enough that it wasn’t uncomfortable.
She looked on, wide eyed, enchanted by the rate at which this precious thing – no, life, that she had created, was blossoming.
Except, it wasn’t stopping. As it continued extending, it strangled her, silenced her, suffocated her and it didn’t, doesn’t – wouldn’t stop.
Not until it was lights out once more.