18 09 2010

Zen got bored with watching my breakdown. “Okay, so are you gonna tell me what exactly just happened?”

I looked at Zen through tear-streaked eyes. Should I? I needed someone to help me, and Zen seemed like the person, someone who would keep the secret. I decided to tell him. I could always run if he freaked.

“Well, you’re going to think I’m even crazier than you already think I am.”

Zen gave me a reassuring look. “It’s OK, we are all crazy here.”

I took a deep breath. “Well, it all started at the swimming pool.” I went on to tell him how I got struck by lightning, manipulated electricity, got kidnapped, started reading minds, and finally escaped. I didn’t even realize until I told the story how much I had been through. I felt like the star in some soap opera.

Zen looked as if he was trying to digest everything I just told him. I thought it would take a while, I mean, I haven’t even fully accepted it yet.

“What does reading minds have to do with electricity?” he asked.

I hadn’t even thought about that. My powers seemed to revolve around electricity. Looks like I picked the right person to tell. They were smarter than they looked.

The girl piped up.  “Isn’t the mind full of electricity?”

I stared at her. These people were smarted than they looked. “That makes sense,” I agreed.

The girl continued. “You’re probably picking those bits of electricity up.”

I nodded. Zen was examining me. He turned to his gang. “So, we have a freak on our hands.”

“How comforting,” I muttered.

He looked at me fondly. “And we like freaks around here.”

© Susan J. Flyweel

Reading (Minds) Is A Hobby Of Mine

15 08 2010

I lay on the ground for a few more centuries. The whole time I was aware of Zen sitting on the ground next to me, every once in a while gripping my arm, as if to see if I was still alive.

Finally, I slowly sat up, Zen helping me. I sat with my back to the cold wall for about four decades, breathing heavily.

“What happened to you?” Zen asked. He had a horrible bedside manner.

I didn’t answer right away. I just sat there, vaguely aware of the other three alley-goers standing above me.

“We found a schizoid, and her clothes are a mess.”

“I’m not schizophrenic!” I shouted, suddenly feeling slightly better, but almost immediately annoyed. I stood up and faced the girl. She looked startled, her eyebrows raising, her piercing going along with them.

“I didn’t say anything!”

I gaped at her and sank back to the ground. I didn’t mean to blurt that out. I had been so overwhelmed that I didn’t realize she hadn’t actually said anything. I myself barely knew I could read minds, control electricity, among other freaky things that had occurred over the past week. I didn’t want other people knowing about that, also. It was bad enough I had a super-secret organization trying to use me as a lab rat, I didn’t need the whole world to view me as a rare creature.

I looked at every member of the gang. They all had the same expression on their face; shocked confusion.

“Are you OK?” Zen asked, placing his hand on my shoulder, then drawing it back.

I thought about what to say, what I could say, which, let me tell you, was not much. If I tell them about the DSO, it might or might not help. They might be put in danger. They might think I’m actually schizophrenic and leave me to die or take me away in a white jacket to a white room. I could really use a pair of ruby slippers right about now.

 © Susan J. Flyweel

Alleyway Allies

29 07 2010

“What’s she doin’ here?”

“She looks like she’s been through a lot.”

“She has no money, shame.”

“It’s about time she woke up.”

I opened my eyes a crack and see dim light illuminating a graffiti-covered alley. I opened my eyes a little bit wider and saw what appeared to be a green mop with clothes on. I shut my eyes when I realized there was people there.

Great Place to Wake Up, Huh?

“Nice try, Sunshine, but I know you’re awake.” That voice wasn’t in my head. I realized it was coming from the green mop, who just so happened to not be a mop, but a boy with green hair.

I muttered a few choice words then stood up. The people standing in front of me backed away to give me room. There were four of them, three boys, one girl. The boy with green hair extended his hand toward me.

“I’m Zen, and this is my gang.”

I glanced at his outstretched hand. “And I’m out of here,” I said, taking a few steps before falling onto the concrete ground.

I got dizzy, light was swimming, and I heard what sounded like dozens of voices crying out at once. I closed my eyes, hoping it would all go away. I never felt more vulnerable then I did lying sprawled out on the ground, with four punks observing my possible breakdown. It seemed like I lay there for hours before I heard Zen speak again.

“You OK, Outtahere?”

I groaned.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

© Susan J. Flyweel

Moving Forward

22 07 2010

I ran out of that place like a pregnant women spotting a free sample booth. I ran through empty, white hallways, rooms with equipment littering them, and astonished people. I ran until I realized I had no idea where I was running. They don’t just post signs in places like this. THIS WAY TO YOUR FREEDOM ——->

“Where does she think she’s going?”

“She’s going the wrong way.”

“Turn right in three feet and continue 5 yards until you reach your final destination.”

OK, so I didn’t hear the last one exactly like that. I turned left and kept following the directions coming from people’s thoughts. I continued that until I wound up in front of a big metal door with a combination lock. There was no way to get out unless I could figure out th combination. Oh, who am I kidding? I thought. Did I or did I not develop the power to control electricity?

I placed my palm on top of the combination keypad. I forced the tingle to start. “Open,” I whispered as white sparks shot out of my fingertips and sunk into the keypad. A moment later I heard a screeching sound as the door slowly opened up.

I ran outside. It was dark. It was cool. It was breezy. It was pure bliss.

I ran like I had never ran before. My lungs were on fire and my limbs were aching, but  I ignored them, willing my body to continue pulling me away from that horrible building.

The moon was bright and cast shadows over the street. As I ran I thought about everything that happened since the accident. Angie, rain, dreams, kidnapped, DSO, experimentation, flying.  I willed myself to stop. It sickened me. So I kept running forward, refusing to look back. Not caring if anyone was following me. I kept running until I couldn’t run anymore, and sank down on my knees in a dark alley, and closed my eyes.

© Susan J. Flyweel


11 07 2010

There’s only so long a rat can run through a maze, even if there’s cheese on the other end. I learned this the hard way; without cheese.     

Poor thing.

How I Felt During DSO Testing


 “More power!” Lewis and Dr. Nimmer took turns shouting at me.     

I couldn’t do it. I was so tired I could barely gather enough energy to roll my eyes, much less control electricity. I knew I wasn’t going to get a break until I satisfied their energy craving.     

I scrunched up my face in concentration, trying to get the tingling feeling to start. For what seemed like hours I stood there, my arms thrust out in front of me. My lungs were on overdrive. My thoughts were racing. The techies were whispering amongst themselves, as if I wasn’t even there.     

I felt like screaming, kicking, running.     

I want to be back at home. I want to hug my parents. I want to glare at Rick. I want to roll my eyes at Angie’s sneering face. I want to go back to Delaware. I want to jump into a pool and float on the bottom for as long as my body will let me. I want to get out of this place!     

I was sure there was steam coming emanating from my ears at that moment. I lashed out, thrusting my hands further in front of me. The tingling feeling was overwhelming. It completely engulfed my body, my essence.     

Oh G-d, I’m floating!     

I was in the air, surrounded by a translucent yellow haze. The lights in the lab were flickering, the machine’s lights were blinking, techies were looking at me with horrified-slash-amazed looks on their faces. They started slowly backing out of the lab when a light fixture crashed from the ceiling.    

“She’s going crazy!’   

“I’m getting out of here!”   

“Whoa, that’s cool.”   

All these people were talking, but as I looked around, I realized nobody’s mouth was moving.   

This is so confusing! I thought. I need to get out of here, I’ll figure this out later.   

I looked at Lewis White’s face; it looked scared, but not surprised. I looked for Dr. Nimmer; she had a vacant expression, as if she were trying to use this for testing. I leaned my head back and saw Solomon Quin, still standing on the observation deck. He was staring at me like he knew this would happen, like he was the only person who could tell me what to do with my powers, like he was in control of me.     

I floated closer to him.     

“Hello, Rachel,” he said, a calm expression that made me sick etched upon his face.     

“Hello, Solomon,” I said, trying to match his vibe. “I’m leaving now.”     

“I’m sure you are,” he replied, no emotion in his voice. He sighed. “You do know that we are going to find you and bring you back, right?”     

“I don’t doubt that you’ll try.” I turned around and floated back to the ground, letting a few more light fixtures explode on my way out the door.     

© Susan J. Flyweel     


Well, That Didn’t Work

8 07 2010

I had messed up two chances of getting out of the DSO. And now I was being subjugated to weird tests of abilities.

After I spooked the Dr. Nimmer, or liked to think I did, they had me do this weird test. I was sitting in a chair, holding a wire attached to a machine.

“Try to do something,” Dr. Nimmer said.

Like what?

So, I closed my eyes and felt the tingly feeling go through my body.It surged from the tips of my toes to my scalp, even making my hair stand on end. It was amazing. When I opened my eyes I saw a white-yellow light pulsing through the wire.

Look what I can do!

I stopped, the amazing feeling of power dissipating with the glow, leaving me breathing hard.

Lewis and some lab techies were looking at the machine that the wire was attached to .

“Levels were weak.”

“Could have been stronger.”

She’s holding back.”

Don’t you just love it when people talk about you behind your back?

©Susan J. Flyweel


5 07 2010

“Dinner time!” said a Random Muscle-Head. He walked in carrying a tray laden with oh so appetizing foods. “After you’re done eating Mr. White wants to see you. Someone will be by to bring you to the lab.”

My chance to try out my plan walked out of the room before I got my act together. Darn!

I ate the cardboard-like food, thinking, waiting, every muscle in my body tensed and alert. I finished the food and weighed the tray in my hand. I figured it could be useful in my plan, so I stashed it under the cot.

I waited some more. Seconds ticked by, turning into minutes, and seeming like hours. I dozed off, against my better judgement. My better judgement was correct because when I woke up Lewis White walked into the room.

“Get up, Rachel,” he said, sounding all to cheerful for someone who was putting up with me. “We’re going to do some activities with you down in the lab.” 

I got up, kicked the slightly protruding tray further under the cot, and followed the man out of the room.

Lewis led me down hallways, up staircases, down staircases, and through doors, until we arrived at a white room, with white equipment, and people in, you guessed it, white lab coats.

I glanced around, seeing what looked like observation decks above my head. Solomon was standing there, observing, because what else were you supposed to do on an observation deck?

“Rachel,” a blonde woman in a white coat said as she walked into the room. “I’ve heard so much about you!” She was too pretty to be believed, and looked way too young to be wearing that lab coat.

I glared at her. The flourescent bulb behind her head flickered with my anger before winking out. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” I said, a steely edge in my voice.

Dr. Nimmer, as it said on her nametag, glanced behind her, then back at me, shaking her head.

Lewis whistled, long and slow, before saying, “Nice going.”

“Thanks,” I said, enjoying every minute, because I knew things were going to get a lot harder.

© Susan J. Flyweel


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