"She's beautiful."

A small child who looks about seven sits in front of a massive tank filled with water; where a young woman floats inside. The room—resembling a classy lounge—is dark, with the only source of light coming from within the tank. The blue of the water reflects perfectly in the curious eyes of the child, like it was made for that sole purpose.

"Really..." Says a bespectacled man seated on a grand armchair, just a few feet back from the child. "I'm glad that—"

"Shh." The child, now with both palms resting against the smooth glass, silences the older man. "Hm. Maybe someday I can grow my hair long, like hers." The child runs her fingers through her snow white hair and gazes at the woman's ash brown locks. "Such a sweet color, her hair. Do you think it would suit me, Jeane?"

The man sighs. "Absolutely." He tells her. Or was it him? He wasn't really sure. Maybe he just forgot.

"You're so mean." The child pouts and briefly turns to Jeane before returning her glance to the tank. "Just shut up then, if you hate talking that much." She says with an irritated tone. Still not sure of what to say or do, Jeane assumes that the child is more of a male than a female.

Jeane crosses his legs, and pushes his glasses up.

The child continues to admire the figure before them, holding up a hand to the glass as if caressing the face of the woman. There is but the slightest movement, with the young woman's expression resembling a pitying look, despite being in a deep sleep. The child's hand curls up into a fist.

"It looks lonely." Jeane remarks, despite the earlier demand. He calmly pours himself a glass of fine wine.

Silence fills the room for a moment before the child breaks it with a whisper. "I don't like that look." He deeply stares disapprovingly at the woman's face. "I don't need sympathy. Not from you, at least. Just look at you. You're trapped, with no one to hold onto, and no one to love you."

Ever so slowly, the young woman's arm drift up, her hand seemingly reaching out toward the child.

Suddenly, the light faded, and the sound of glass breaking could be heard.

Jeane feels a strong gust of wind. The light from the tank returns, and he finds himself alone in the room. As he watches the wine trickle down the glass of the tank, he can only think to himself how much that child needed to be disciplined.

While walking toward the tank, Jeane says to himself, "That child is fearless, and has talent. A perfect candidate, don't you think?" And his eyes turn into a menacing red, his lips curling up with excitement.

"When the time comes, we'll be ready."


Written for the Writing Challenge Contest at the Review Game. Critique is always welcome, thank you.