The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

By Their Design
by Melissa R. Mendelson

 The falling was the worst part. I hated the falling. Why couldn’t the dream be peaceful, but who said that I was asleep? I was in-between, slipping between what was and will be, and there comes the sickly web wrapping around me, slime over every inch of me. I don’t like that, but at least, I was done falling.

I sat up in the large, metallic tub and pulled the white film off of me. I used up all my credit for this, but my last body was failing me. Too many defects, errors in the genetic code, and I did not want to wind up on an elderly ward when I wasn’t even elderly. Still, I wondered what they gave me, and the skin looked clean under the white slime.

I decided to stay in the tub and pulled off the white, sickly substance from my neck down to my belly. Then, I stood up and worked my way down from the hips to the legs. I knew the floor would be ice cold, and it certainly was as my feet splashed down onto the white tiles. I picked the rest of the crap off my new skin. Everything looked clean. It looked like I was just born, and again, I had enough credit to guarantee that this body would not fail me. But if it does, there would be no return for me, and the elderly ward would be the least of my problems.

I forgot what it was like to move, to swing your arms around and spin like you were a child. No creaks, cracks, whines or groans. How I would love to be a child again, but the body had to fit the age, errors removed, no mother nature to sneak up on you. We defeated her.

A laugh surprised me. It was from me, a beautiful sound that rang in my ears. I laughed again as I spotted the familiar white gown, which for whatever reason reminded me of those old plastic bags, but the doctors had to examine me. They were really admiring their work, and even with my selections, I was prisoner to their design. Still, job well done.

I slipped on the gown, grimacing at the sounds that it made like I was an item ready for shipment, but I rather the sounds come from that than from me. I danced toward the mirror with my bare feet slapping the tiles with every single step. It was so good to be light on my feet again, and my body was ready, ready to launch out of this facility and back into the world. I was brand new, and I was not going to waste another moment of it.

My hand kissed the mirror and pushed the fog away. My heart dropped a moment later. Yes, my skin was clean, brand new, my eyes a beautiful brown. My lips perfect and pink, but then I turned my head to the side. And there it was. A jagged, thin line from the corner of my left eye down to my ear.

“Damn it,” I cursed. “If only I had enough credit,” but this was their design. And there was no return.

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Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.

About Author Melissa R. Mendelson:

Melissa R. Mendelson is a horror, science-fiction and dystopian author and poet.  She has two publications with Wild Ink Publishing.  One is a prose poetry collection, This Will Remain With Us, and the other is a short story collection, Stories Written On Covid Walls.  She also self-published a sci-fi novella, Waken and a small short story collection, Name’s Keeper.

If you’d like to learn more about Melissa, you can visit her accounts here: www.MelissaMendelson.com