The lights flickered.

Irritated, she glanced up. Before long, though, her attention returned to the life flourishing┬áin 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┬árate 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.


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