Phantomverse Stories

The Mer-Phantom (Part 2)

I waited as the steady stream of scientists striding past the tank slowed to a trickle, then finally the compound was silent save for distant footsteps of the lone security guard.

The scientists never entered nor exited the building like a massive wave, all at once. They'd normally check in in groups of 1 to 3, as if they were purposefully staggering their entrances and exits for some reason I couldn't quite grasp.

Oh wait, I do know. What goes on in this compound probably isn't generally accepted in the real world, so they are basically covering their sorry butts.

Though I can't say I have any notion of what the "real world" is like, in the darkest, murkiest placed within me I have the fragile hope that it's somewhat better. That's why I have to escape. I want to experience the world like an actual person.

But in that same place within me, there's also a cold terror; warning me that the world is exactly like what I'm experiencing now: literal hell.

Beside me, Mr. Piranha is steady and encouraging. A pang in my chest reminds me just exactly what I'll be losing when gaining my freedom.

Reading my mind (since he's known me better than anyone since I was an infant) he raised and lowered his jaw, revealing sharp teeth.

He either said, The world won't be hell, or Don't listen to the fear, have faith. The simplicity of Mr. Piranha's faith in me almost caused another breakdown, but I pushed it away, and set a determined look on my face.

It was time to move on.

Now, this might be a little weird how my plan was going to be carried out, because I never have extensively explored this area of myself.

The first time it happened, luckily, it was early morning, and not many scientists had started to trickle in just yet.

It was feeding time, and Shark Trainer (he smelled strongly of them) was tossing in the essential nutrients for our health: cod.

We got a variety of food later in the day but every morning we had some variation of fish which got old fast.

Shark Trainer didn't have to eat cod for feeding time. He had an appetizing breakfast bar poking out of his pocket: apple-cinnamon-flavored with oats.

I don't remember why, all I know is I really, really, really wanted that breakfast bar. I had no idea how it tasted, or if I could even eat it, but I wished with every scale on my tail that he'd just toss that apple-cinnamony goodness into the tank instead of some boring old cod.

Suddenly, I heard a rushing sound in my ears, then somehow, a kind of shifting of awareness. I was no longer just myself. I was also Shark Trainer. Not just an understanding of him, but I could wiggle my toes and bend my knees and stand.

And I could also grab the breakfast bar out of my pocket, then throw it into the tank, where I waited.

As quickly as it happened, a flash of pain went across my skull and I was thrown back into my body. I glanced up and saw Shark Trainer rub his head briefly, then continue tossing cod in as if nothing ever went awry. He didn't even notice that he was missing his breakfast bar.

I glanced down and scooped up my prize. Easily tearing through the wrapper with my claws, I offered half to  Mr. Piranha and that day, our appetites were satisfied. 

After that day, I never really practiced this ability for two reasons: first of all, I felt drained afterward that I couldn't possibly do it again for a long while, and secondly, I was afraid of discovery. If any of the scientists found out about what I could do, they'd never stop monitoring me.