Sunday, May 22, 2011

Story 4

This story came from my friend Emily shooting words at me as I wrote. The bolded words are the ones she gave me it you couldn't guess. I can see lots of possbilities with this one. It might be just the thing I was looking for. More posts from this one might come in the future.

Telepathic. More like tele-pathetic. I was a failure, I thought as darkness surrounded me. It was a massacre. Everything was destroyed. A feeling of malcontent permeated the air.

I felt miserable. Everything was my fault. The malicious people knew it too. They said I was a terror. A menace. I didn’t even cry out for help as the stuffed me into a bag to carry me away. The fatalities were too great for me to feel otherwise.

The remaining people dropped me on the ground. Cold rose from the hard floor, chilling my skin. I couldn’t fathom the things they had planned for me.

The door slamming closed reached me. After a bit of careful maneuvering, I managed to slither out of the bag. I was in a dark room. Not even a sliver of light existed for my eyes to use to adjust. Most likely I was underground. Most likely, the people weren’t coming back.


I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself.

Telepathic, they’d called me after seeing my first demonstration of the power I didn’t know I had had. They didn’t know it was something much more. It was magic, pure and simple, and I had no control over it. Mostly, it manifested itself in moving objects. But lately, it showed itself more and more in displays of fire. “I wish I could create some fire now,” I thought aloud to myself. But, as I said before, I had no control.

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