One crooked pink eye stares at me, the other pointed in the other direction. A small smile plays across my creation's lips.

"Da-da!" It squeals, reaching out for me. She tries to grasp my sleeve but there are no fingers on either of her hands. An exasperated groan escapes her twisted mouth before she crawls over to me.

The blue-eyed creation sits in a crumpled heap on the ground, inhumane sounds floating from it's mouth to my ears. The blonde hair on it's head is matted and mousy, sticking up in all possible directions. A finger-less hand attempts to grip the ground but fails, causing the pale blob to shrink into it's self again.

The green-eyed one just sits up on the wall, staring at me with a spaced out look. One tooth juts out of it's pink-gray gums, it's mouth curling up into a half smile.

What have I done?

The one I decided to name Blossom finally makes it to my feet, using it's hand-stubs to support it's self as it stares at me again. It's hair is orange, long and matted to the middle of it's back. My own cold eyes stare back at it, ashamed.

Could things have been different?

Another sound escapes the blonde-haired one it twists and wiggles, anything to get it's self to sit up. I lean over and pull it up, resting it on my lap. The blue eyes, the only some-what normal looking part of the creature, smiled up at me. It's actual mouth was just twisted into some sick shape, two crooked teeth making it hard to look at. Blossom and the other one, Buttercup, begin to cry out. I can tell they're jealous.

How is it possible for these creatures, these things, to feel emotion?

Their skin is a pale gray, making their colored hair and eyes stand out creepily. In modern day terms, they'd be described as "autistic", their features and actions closely resembling that of a child with downs-syndrome. They can't possibly have downs-syndrome.

They're not even human.

See, I was lonely. I needed some company and I wasn't having luck in the ladies department. I craved for some company, and so I set out to create the perfect little girls. My research took years upon years until I finally made a breakthrough.

What are little girls made of?

Sugar, spice, and everything nice.

That is exactly what I added to my concoction: some sugar, some spice, and everything nice I could find. I added books, sports balls, crayons, coloring books, everything good and well you'd want your child to be exposed to.

Of course, I couldn't even do that right.

My elbow hit the secret chemical that I kept next to my work station: Chemical X. A few droplets fell into my concoction, and that's when everything went downhill.

The cauldron let out an explosion, knocking me backwards. When I finally caught my bearings and peeked out from under my eyelids, I was horrified by the sight.

Three little 'girls' were drooped on the floor, using each other for support. The blonde-haired and blue-eyed one was on the bottom, her red-haired and pink-eyed "sister" laying on top of her. The raven-haired and green-eyed one was stumbling towards me with outstretched arms, whispering, "Daddy?"

I pulled the gun out of my pocket, the one I kept just in case my inventions went wrong. I knew I couldn't keep these things, couldn't care for the,, would never learn to love them. They were disgusting, deformed and not anything close to the perfect little girls that I hoped for.

But I couldn't. I couldn't take their lives.

So I went into solitude, kept them stowed away in my basement, away from the outside world. No one has ever seen them. No one even knows they exist.

Why did I try to play God?

This was super dark. I saw a picture that was really deep (tell me if you'd like to see it) , and this story is based off of that. Sorry for not updating any other stories recently, I have a bit of a writer's block. Hope you enjoyed.