Conceal Them Above All

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
A girl mastering a skill that can only be defined as electricity.

Submitted: June 22, 2016

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Submitted: June 22, 2016

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Sparks dance between my fingers and I concentrate my mind to make them bigger, more vicious. I know just what they can do. They can be wild, destroying lamp posts and starting entire cars from a distance, but I can also tame them, make them do what I want. The problem is that I have to try to control them. The worse I can make them behave, the more control I have and the fewer accidents they create.

A knock sounds on the door and I break my concentration. The sparks disappear and I lower my sleeves over my hands, before crossing the apartment floor towards it. There's no peep-hole, so I have to hope that this isn't another solicitor. It's always a headache-and-a-half turning them away. Without asking for who it is this time around, I carefully release the lock and twist the knob with my left sleeve to pull the door open. A man in jeans and a dark-blue hoodie stands behind it.

"Can I help you?" I ask, sensing the air of authority in his stature, like he knows exactly what he needs to say. He's just not nearly as excited as those regular salesmen.

"Kayla?" he starts, not waiting for me to acknowledge him. "You're bringing attention to yourself. Do you realize how ridiculous that is? Exercise better judgement."

I stare at him blankly. "What are you talking about?" He can't possibly have any suspicions about me. I don't think that I've done anything but hide under the radar lately.

"The circuit breakers by the dumpsters?" He raises his eyebrows like I should know what he's talking about and my gut dips from apprehension.

"I still don't -"

"I live here, too. You tap them during an outage and they come back to life."

"Maybe I'm just a good electrician," I suggest, hoping he'll buy that.

He smirks in response, suggesting otherwise. "I don't think so. I'm telling you that I've caught onto you. Make sure that no one else does."

With that, he walks away. I stare at him in shock through the open doorway. He can't really know what I can do. There's nothing I've done that's so obvious. The panel to the breakers was always open when I 'fixed' them. I put on a show, so much so that the landlord believes my efforts are a result of technical skill. How can this man know differently? I finally close the door and put my back against it. He must be drawing connections without basis. There are enough people in this apartment complex crazy enough to do that. This should be no different, but I don't know that I can leave it up to chance


© Copyright 2017 Maya Tripathi. All rights reserved.

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