“We have no choice,” the captain sighed as he initiated the release of the toxin. “He was getting too curious.”

The biologist’s eyes widened slightly as he died. The organic craft he had always identified as his appendix detached from his intestines and followed the flow as he voided.

“Cloak!”

Irish writer Perry McDaid lives in Derry close to the Donegal hills. His diverse writing disciplines and genres appear in international multimedia, recently with entropy2, Amsterdam Quarterly, Flash Fiction Chronicles, Plotters Ink, Alfie Dog, and 50wordstories. He has one imaginary cat, Stinky, who is mostly nailed to a board above a ruined allegorical flower bed.