The original picture is really great…gotta love a pic that sends the imagination into overdrive. I can’t imagine what kind of genetic engineering such an animal would take, though…
Ach, but as much as the picture given for the prompt is really great…it has led me down another path and begs me to use a pic out of my own files. I beg all your forgiveness this once as I bend the rules….Also, this is non-fiction.
(Picture: This is me, right after the surgery to restore some semblance of a face after the accident that changed everything.)
Mom tucked the stuffy under my arm. It wasn’t fancy, Mom never wasted money on gifts. Knowing that, I squeezed it with half a grin. There was only one reason she’d give me something, now. I blinked up at her, and mumbled through broken jaws.
‘Am I dying?’
Mom looked me square in the eye. ‘You just might, Sweetie.’
‘It’s okay, Mom. I’m ready to go back Home.’
With that, the nurses came and wheeled me out for an eight hour surgery wherein I fully coded on the table four times. The stuffy is now tucked in my cedar box.