Down below The Mansion, in The Basement, the eccentric professor admired the beautifully clear turquoise blue liquid in a long test tube. He saw his eyes reflected in the glass of the triangular beaker, which contained a thick yellow liquid, and sat above a lit bunsen burner. He carefully poured the turquoise blue liquid into the yellow and watched as a green plume of smoke puffed out from the top of the beaker.
“Vell, Tombert Tomstein,” he said out loud to himself, “not vanting to blow my own trumpet just yet, things are going remarkably vell, and exactly to zhe plan…”
He could say no more, as a blood curdling scream emanated and echoed all around him, causing him to suddenly jump. He dropped the test tube, and his sudden jump knocked the table he was working at, toppling over the beaker of bubbling blue liquid. The liquid made its way across the table away from him, dripping off the edge and down onto a cloth-covered unit that was placed just beyond.
Tomstein quickly switched off the flame before running around to the unit to check the damage. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration as he pulled back the now sodden cover to reveal a figure beneath, who blinked, opened his eyes, and looked blankly back up at him.
“No, no, no, no, no,” Tomstein complained, “not yet… not yet… it is too early… as it is right now, you are nothing but a Tomster… a Tomster!”
Tomstein fell to his knees sobbing.
“Three years work down zhe drain. I don’t believe it. I don’t believe it.”
He didn’t notice the Tomster sit up.
To be continued…
The Mansionic Perspective 
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