You'd never been so disappointed in your life.

You'd spent the past few months laboring over the creature. Assembling him perfectly from the most finely formed limbs and organs you got from graverobbing. You'd found the finest modern technology to give him life. You'd bought an extraordinary old tower to get your lab up in. You neglected friends and family for your project...You almost fell off the tower trying to set up your lighting rod.

And then when the moment came down to it...When a storm swirled into your rod and lighting from the gods themselves poured into your project...The battery flickered...And nothing happened.

Exaushted, wet, enraged, sore and tired you stripped off your lab clothes and fell into bed...Disapointed. So much work for nothing. Not even a heart beat or breath...Man couldn't create life. You were no god.

But then that morning...When sun peaked through the curtains...You heard clumsy footsteps...Saw a large shadow...Felt a gentle large hand curiously touch the poster of your bed. His eyes are large...And greatly innocent. Soft, dark brown. He looks down at you curiously and lets out a soft grumble, as if to ask if you're alright.

Your labor. Your project. Your creature.

Was alive.