Jiji no. 8

The shot of the red, bloodied eye looked at her.   Professor Zen Maxxess bit her thumb as she stared back to the creature that was looking at her from inside the Sen tube where it was born. As her breath flowed not on her nose, but in her mouth, the stinking smell of Booze recoiled into her uncaring sense of smell. “Professor Zen, the Sankt is ready for testing.” Behind her, a young man whose eyes are filled with glimmers of dreams, spoke. He arranged the frame of his glasses laying on the bridge of his nose, as he held the golden folder clipped with various files and documents needed for the experiment. “Is it?” Professor Zen asked, though she knew very well that it was. “Don’t be afraid, Professor. You were successful for the first seven creatures of the book of Sanktas. This, for sure, will be successful also.” She then looked at the young magic specialist. “But,” she told with the gleam of terror and nervousness in her eyes. “This is our eighth time pulling this damned Jiji out of his tomb!” She then grabbed a wooden cup, (a one big, giant wooden cup—or more like a smaller sized barrel) filled with booze mixed with special aroma of grapes and apple. She drank through it. Ten straight gulps without stopping. She exclaimed a relieved sigh, as she finished and emptied the cup filled of alcohol. “That freakin’ Sankt is having us a hard boozy-woozy time!” The man in her front who is talking to her, pursed his lips, and closed his eyes from a formed disappointment. She reached her limit. No, not in sanity for she still have it, but for her alcoholic tolerance. Flat out. In no time, she will just slump in her chair and hum in an annoying harmony of a drunken snoring. Or worse, maybe because of disappointment, she would call her Sankt again and jokingly order to kill all of them. No, that was the most worst thing he had ever experienced from the professor. Though it was just a drunk joke, the trauma still lingered on him. A dangerous Sankt and a drunken woman having an intimate family bonding . . . he shivered in fright. “Professor Zen, try to calm down,” he said. He then rushed to her when he saw that she was about to fall  off of her balance. Frowning, he used his back to support the almost falling professor that through a single flick of fingers, she was ready to pass out. ‘I have a dream, I have a dream. I want to be a full time Magic Specialist. I still want to publish more research journals for the Maji,’ the young man continuously chanted in his mind, as he did his best to carry the heavy professor on his back. Driven with the dreams that he, from time to time, chanted, he wielded his miraculous strength coming from his thin frame of weak arms, lifted her, and gravely placed her on her red colored chair. He sighed and tilted his neck from left to right soon as he successfully placed the drunken professor on her comfort. The bones in his stiffed neck made a popping sound as he stretched it. “Oi!” the professor exclaimed. “Release that bitchy Sankt!” She smashed the glass window in her front, making the other magic specialist inside the laboratory to jump in shock. In the rigors of panic, they started to move. Three Magic Specialists started to type furiously in the air. From their taps, a magical keyboard in different colors appearing in every strokes of fingers they made. Two more magic specialist assisted in arranging the wires complexly attached at the Sen tube where the bloodshot eyed creature are resting. “Hurry! Hurry! Let’s see what kind of failure that b***h is!” The young man beside the drunken professor sighed. She is a hopeless drunken girl. She is childishly slamming her forehead on the hard glass. But, he couldn’t blame her. This was already their eighth attempt of reviving a Sankt named Jiji. The seven first experiments were all failure. And so, she cannot help herself but to feel terrified. For the king was being impatient already. And for two or more failures, it would be the end of their careers. Now, the smoke from the Sen tube hissed. The circular glass that is holding the creature started to lift its own self, causing the smoke that overpopulated the tube to be released into the whole laboratory. From that moment, Professor Zen Maxxess flew into silence. The thumping of her heart were extremely bothering her, making her dizzied and weak. “Initiate magic residue suction,” she said on the microphone in her front that connects to the laboratory The Magic Specialists worked into typing in the magical keyboards again. From her enclosed laboratory, two circular spaces had formed in the wall, in the upper right portion. An exhaust. Through it, the smoke—which were then called as magic residue—were being suctioned out. Little by little, the smoke is thinning. Little by little, the image of the Sankt was about to appear. Little by little, their hearts are pounding hard, buzzing an incredible amount of fear through them. And then there revealed the creature. “Oh gods,” said the young Magic Specialist. “Make sure you get me another barrel of booze,” said the professor as she sighed in disappointment. There stood, on the platform of the Sen tube, was a rounded, shiny slime. But black is the color. And blood red is the eye. Professor Zen Maxxess then, slumped into the miserable comfort of her red, cushioned chair. “Make sure to dispose the failed JiJi,” she said, talking to the young man beside her. She then closed her eyes. Her head is spinning and thumping in pain both from frustration and the alcohol she had drank. Being crept with sensation of tiredness from a three-day no resting work, the sleepiness started to invade her. But it was interfered with a shrill scream from one of her Magic Specialist worker. A scream that resonates horror. She wished she hadn’t opened her eyes, for what welcomed her was the trace of a bloodied hands sliding through the window. Then she jolted in shock as one of her Magic Specialist worker thumped the glass window. His eyes were rounded, full, and about to fall off of its socket. Its face were skinned, leaving red and bloodied and abused flesh, giving her the image that she would bring even until the deepest pit of her grave. s**t. Then, as if something sharp passed through the miserable body of the Magic Specialist, he bursted into perfect cut of chunks of meat. “Oh gods.” The young man was shaking from fear as he laid his eyes watching every details that occurred inside the laboratory. “P-Professor Zen.” The whole laboratory was splattered with blood and horribly torn flesh. Professor Zen then, looked at the culprit. At the murderer. A cute, blood-shot eyed, black colored slime looked back at her. She felt bad, and horrored, and saddened. But behind her genius mind, she was smiling. Evilly.  For finally, they have succeeded reincarnating the last Sankt.