Ever since I was born, I could see them. The monsters. They permeated every aspect of my life, monstrous beings of vivid color and unholy purpose. Every day and night, they tormented me. My screams would send my parents running to my room every night, and my spine would bend so bad I’m surprised it didn’t break right there. The creatures loved it. They loved watching me, mimicking my pain in mocking renditions.
I don’t know why. My theory is that, for whatever reason, they drew power from my suffering. They followed me around a lot, and people refused to come near me when they did. They’d suck the power of my emotions, feeding on the misery and anger and hate I held for the world.
I was eight, maybe nine, when I reached my breaking point. I can’t remember what happened, but fragments are still there, buried deep beneath the surface.
The smell of charred flesh is always the first one. Not just any charred flesh. Burning, sizzling, melting blood and bone. Skin dripped onto the floor like molten wax, while people screamed in agony. My chest burned while oxygen was snatched away by the blaze.
I left no survivors. The next day, my parents had me shipped away to a new home. They said my new family would help me manage my symptoms, but I think they were just scared. Everyone is. Nothing new.
My new family didn’t pay much attention to me. They were cold and distant. Their skin was sagged with age, hair as white as bone and eyes pitiless black. They only wanted me so that people would stop asking why they hadn’t had children, or some other messed up shit like that. I kept out of their way.
I’d seen the truth of what I could do, and even at the tender age of nine, I understood that I had to control it. First, I learned to block out the voices. They were always there, tearing me down and inflicting vicious wounds on my psyche. But, somehow, I guess I managed it.
Then, I had to learn to ignore the monsters. They would always be there, always be a part of my life, but I gave them no heed. Even as they tried in vain to scare me into my closet, so they could have another taste of my fear, butchering animals in front of my eyes, I wouldn’t give them what they wanted. In the end, I think they got tired and left.
So it went on. Slowly, I learned to live with my curse. Even started to reap some of the benefits. One of the first things I noticed after the fire incident, was that, if I focused hard enough, I could make things move.
This wasn’t easy to control though. It seemed to be powered by emotions. But not just any emotions. Powerful ones. Anger. Sadness. Helplessness. Those were the principles of the memories I used to fuel my abilities.
And that wasn’t the only thing. I could control the people too. Make them think whatever I wanted. They were like puppets, waiting to be pushed around by their master. Chess-pieces, even. Their minds were dusty old libraries, with thousands of books waiting to be read, rewritten, and most importantly, destroyed.
One thing that may stand out to you, is that I never searched for anyone else like me. Truth be told, I thought there weren’t any others like me. I still looked, of course, here and there. But I was never successful.
Success, as it turns out, came to me. In the worst way possible.
It was a rainy day. Lightning crashed through the sky, while thunder screamed in unholy fury. Rain beat down hard on my petit figure, but I didn’t mind. The storm never bothered me anyway. Why would it? If it got too bad, all I had to do was wish it away. It would listen. Everything does. I had the power to do anything I wanted. Who could stop me?
I continued on my path through the local woods. The grass squelched underfoot as I walked over the wet mud. My clothes clung to me with moisture, but I didn’t stop. I was curious to see what was drawing my mind so much.
I’d learned long ago not to ignore the random flashes of inspiration that struck me. Going the long way instead of the short one, and chancing upon fascinating finds. Not going to the mall, and later finding out there was a psycho shooting everyone in sight. Little things like that.
The shadows were dark around me, too dark to properly light my path. But, like always, I managed. The wind was getting pretty rough. The trees crashed into each other, leaves falling to the wet ground. If you’re wondering why the hell someone would like weather like this, don’t question it. I’ve been asking myself for the last nineteen years, and I still don’t have an answer.
It was a slight raising of the hairs on my skin that ordered me to stop.
There, in a clearing above a dark river, a slab of stone stood high in the centre of it all. I stared at it in surprise and curiosity. Until, that is, I noticed the slender hand of a person coming out of one of the holes in the rock.
I froze. Part of me wanted to run, to find some way to help her, and the other demanded I turn back. I did neither.
Out of the forest, three hooded figures appeared. I felt gooseflesh ripple on my arms.
They approached the slab, the water parting before them as if afraid. They wore long hooded robes that looked like they’d been spun from darkness itself. One of them spoke to the other in a hushed voice. I clenched my fists as I tried to look through their minds.
All at once, they looked around in shock. I froze, breath catching in my throat. Thousands of thoughts piled up on one another. Panic had overtaken reason, and question upon question popped up with no answer.
How did they do that? Could they sense it? Why couldn’t I break into their heads?
But one question was above them all.
Did they see me?
A flash of lightning illuminated one of the figures. His skin was pale, corpse-like even. His eyes were gaping voids of black, as if they’d been plucked out clean from their sockets. He turned towards me, and even in the dark of the night, I was certain he could see me with his eyeless sockets.
Slowly, like a predator approaching its prey, he advanced. The other two followed, always at a safe distance, like even they weren’t safe from his power. His neck twisted, head slowly tilting more and more like a clock’s hands. Starting with twelve, then one…then two…
By the time he reached eleven, I could’ve touched him. My mind felt foggy, and a mist was falling over my eyes. My hands stopped trembling; my heart was calm. Why was I afraid? Some part of me was still fighting from this haze, yet the rest of me bade it no mind. What did it matter? I was safe…
It placed one of its cold hands onto my chin. I can’t remember what sounds it made, but the stench was beyond revolting. It breathed onto my face, and the mere memory causes me to gag.
The other two were no better. If I could sum up the entirety of the trio’s features in one word, that word, would be insanity. For it was truly insane. Their faces were horrendous, their bodies horrifically disproportionate to each other and to themselves.
Yet, I felt no fear. The curtain that fell upon me refused to budge, yet, when all hope was lost, something saved me. I don’t know how much time had passed, but the sun rose. For a moment, all the terror I should’ve been feeling came back to me in one, devastating blow, and I stumbled backwards.
The creatures screamed as their flesh melted before me, retreating into the shadowy crevices of the forest.
I ran. Faster than I ever had before. Every once in a while, I turned back, ordering the earth to cover my tracks. The soil shifted over my footprints, the air changed and twisted to cover my scent. As I saw the outline of buildings in the distance, the rains returned, washing away any remainder of my presence in those cursed woods.
It’s been a few days, and I’m still not sure what I saw. But one thing’s for sure. Those things, no matter how twisted and changed they were, were humans. Real, living beings just like me. Beings with abilities and powers that overtook my own defenses like it was nothing.
And that, might be the most disturbing thing of it all. Here I was, thinking I was among the most powerful beings in the world, only to have all that thrown back in my face by creatures who could break me without any effort.
I don’t know what to feel about this. What do I do? What can I do?