Researched

A squat grey building of only thirty-four stories. Sparks often fly freely from the upper floors. Visitors were taking in the sights of the reformed kingdom. Walk along the canal boardwalk look up in awe of the range of colours of those sparks fleeing on the wind, taking the hopes of their masters freedom screaming from the building. The villagers were all too aware of the ugly truth that hides behind the magical ivy walls of the slate-coloured tomb masked as a waterfront building. Waste would run into the canals the only outward display of the twisted behaviour carried out. Pleas for sweet mercy claw themselves down the hallway. A group of girls were strapped to chairs. Forceps were prying their jaws open, tearing the corner of their mouths. Reddish liquid squash over the side of containers. As a result of one of the older girls bucks against her chains. They were spitting threats towards her captors. The blood runs down the shirts of the white-coated adults running the facility. Fangs rip free from the locked children jaws. Beakers with membranes stretchered over the top of them.placed in front of each victim. Nurses step front pushing the heads of the children with their fangs exposed into the glasses Gagging on the beakers. Fangs puncture the covered test tubes. Breakers start to collect he cloudy golden serum tickling out of the girl’s fangs. Once the current episode of produced anger draws to an end, the collected venom was prepared for storage in master cool-room, the masked nurse places the collected specimens into the rotation of vampire fluids. Amused the worked huffed. At the contrast between the intense liquid shelved next to the salty sludge of blood jars. She makes note the levels of other supernatural samples. She recorded the low levels of a wide range of dried petals and made the call of the greenhouse. “The garden bed needs harvesting,” slid down the telephone line with a little too much enjoyment for the pain that is shifting towards the babies that create the sweet, dreamy scent. As well as the pastel rainbow captured in dusty vales lining the shelves Hanging up a slimy smirk wormed its way across the head gardener’s face. The dirty office door smashes into the wall of the greenhouse. Sending the petal covered babes crawling for hiding places. Stomping out into the centre of the closest flower bed. The gardener crutch down, grabbing onto the slower moving petal toddler. They are wailing, the infant swinging his limbs about in the fit to wrester himself free. His thorns present along his arms had matured enough to cause pain if connected with. Those thorns draw a thin line across the gardener’s jawline. Adding to the already spiteful attention that the gardener applied to the babies in his care. Some of the older flower children reluctantly pop their heads out of the tunnels, ensuring the younger residents of the remained sheltered in the tunnels and rocks, out the sound of their kins pleas for help. Gardener firmly grasps the neck of the rose boy in his hands. He moved his other hand down the petal children spraining body to clamp his hands around his ankles. The gardener twists the creature in his arms firmly, the wimping of the rose boy stopped. Dropping the limp, lifeless body carelessly of the group. Returning to the office to gather collection equipment kit used to collect everything useful of the blossoming child. Moments later, mournful wailing cascade to fill the silence. Soil started to fly around the greenhouse. The flowery children seemed to become finally enraged enough to revolt. Vines snaked across the ground tangling the gardener’s feet, pulling him to the dirty floor. Baby blossoming dogwood’s crawled from their beds. High pitch buzzing escapes from their mouths. They were pawing at the cruel man’s eye and mouth searching of water. Giggling the dogwood babes climbed the bucking man on the floor. Waving their leaves in rejoice of a new plaything. The runt of the current crop, shuffle further up the gendered chest. Exploring holes and caves present on his head. Moisture spray from the man’s mouth and nose as he struggled against the flora. The runt dogwood pushed its roots down the nasal cave of the gardener. Roots crept further into his system. Pulling water from cells. Removing any chance fro his lungs to function. Out on the emerald lawn between the dull building and the greenhouse. More uniformed staff, Held a collection of shackled teenagers. They were encircling a pile of redwood. Fear painted plainly across the faces of the youths. “Why are you doing this to us?” fearfully pleads shouted out from the chained group. A few of the younger staff had only ever dealt with the paperwork side of the centre, now had fieldwork began to wavier in their conviction that the supernatural needed to be controlled, researched for them to make the best benefit to the world. Had their eyes open this evening. Prayers or a chant the head nurse was not sure he heard, Glided down from the top of the wooden stakes. where two oldest witches were cuffed. “Mother, embrace us. so that we may once again know your warmth.” The senior nurse stepped front, throwing the lit torch onto the kindling. A fire whips into a fury the first of the magical talented teens—scream, begging for the pain to stop—the stink dancing under everyone’s noses. Through teary eyes, Pippa saw members of her coven flesh peeling away. Ripples started to drift across the surface of the pound as the remaining inflicted youth were marched over. Scaled beauties emerged between the Lilly pads holding their floating blossoms, cooing at anyone close enough to be hooked in with their song. A clawed hand crept on the bank of the pound. They were grasping, searching for something to grab hauling back into its watery home. The younger staff started to move the chained witches closer to the edge of the water. They were hoping that the bloodthirsty beast of the pound would considerably take care of the rest of the coven, which means that the blood would not be on their hands. A scaled hand made contact with an ankle of the chained teens. A happy shriek sounded as they tore the young withes to their watery graves. Splashing erupted as the witches came face to face with large black-eyed creatures. The pain seemed to be mirrored within those pupil eyes. Blood shifted through the water. Flesh chucks drifted to the filthy bed of the pond. Clapping the leader of the water creatures, paused all attacks.

Sick of the constraints the pond imposed. They resealed their prey on the condition that they helped lift the rusting bars blocking the flow to the canals for them to return to their island homes. Working together with the coven and the watery monsters broke the chains. Apologizes were exchange f the fallen witches. They were crawling up the breaks of the lake. The coven saw that the junior nurses had returned to the torturing building. Nodding Pippa gathered the soaked members of her coven. They saw the overwhelmed petal children wadding out of the greenhouse. They ran to smooth and collect them. She was hushing them using the panicking confusion overwhelming the staff of the research centre.

The collection of the mystical being ran for the terrace door. Chattering erupted between the coven of what the best course of action. A split began to form in the coven. That if they wanted to be free just to dump the petal lumps and flee out the front door. Pausing for the moment, Pippa spoke up that they owned the pond dwellers the help promised for not devouring all of them. Other witches were desperate to flee regardless of the deals made. “We need to save our skin, so if you’re with me head this way” a male witch shouted running towards to front doors. Divided the coven made their chooses that suited them, with half the numbers the coven costly made their ways down the hall to the testing rooms—drawn further along the corridor by the moans of the vampires still chained to the metal chairs. Quickly the witches work on the chains prying the locks and gags free from the night children lips. Panting a chorus of thank you rang out form the pale ones. They were daring to enter the deeper levels of the centre. They were barreling down the hallway. The growing group of children desperate to end the cruelty that was endured by all of them. All to benefit a class of people that never considered the damage their pursuit of perfection cost the mythically affected youth. The constant nightmarish tales of monsters maintained the wanted blindness of the ruling class. Pausing as they rounded the final corner, the moon was showing its full beauty, which was met with a pounding of the twin doors closest to the only door that barred them from their freedom.

Mattered furred creatures pushed past the shaking group of equally damaged children, following the children that had been overtaken of the beast. On the broad walk saw people fleeing towards the shelter of open buildings or jumping in the canal. Unfortunately, those visitors fell straight into the waiting claws and jaws of the scaled monsters. Panicked, the children stared at the vast direction that could lead them to the safety of a new home. South-south-west, south, south-east, east...