Powers from a Peculiar Possession

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: IDEAS FROM MANGA/ANIME

Jacob Crosman, eleven years old, yet a freshman at North Valley High. An active imagination from a young age, but these stories may prove to be more true than they first seem.

“And then, after the demon howled its last words, the heroes triumphantly celebrated over its corpse. The end.”


The children were dumbfounded as the show-and-tell session came to a close. I never quite understood why. Did they really fail to grasp the simple definitions of simple words? Even though I had specifically chosen the most accessible of sayings in my currently subpar vocabulary for this very performance, it seemed that their five-year old minds weren’t sophisticated enough to comprehend the simplicity of my statements.


“Jacob, would you please come here for a moment?”


Our teacher, Ms. Martos, called me from across the room. I did as I was told for I did not wish to make conflict where none existed.


“Yes, Ms. Martos?”


“Well, Jacob, I’ve been thinking… wondering if you like to move on from this class.”




I had trouble understanding what Ms. Martos meant with her words and therefore, attempted to clarify with a question.


“What do you mean by that?”


“I think you’re ready for the 1st… no, maybe 2nd grade even. Jacob, how would you like to skip a grade or two?”


Ms. Martos’s face contorted in anticipation. She obviously wanted me to accept though I didn’t quite understand why. I assumed it was due to my obviously superior intellect compared to the other students and the weird sense of discrepancy associated with it.


“I-I guess,” I responded.


This answer was to be expected. I would always choose to avoid conflict whenever possible after all.


Six years of school while skipping a couple of grades here and there had brought me to this day - my first day of high school. I felt like a balloon, ready to burst with excitement.


“Now, you two be good, okay?”


“Okay, mom!” I shouted back as I gave her my signature smile with a wink.


My sister’s response of a low, grunting, “umm,” paled in comparison. She was not in the greatest mood for I will now be attending the same school as her.


Beatrice Crosman. Four years older, yet only a grade higher as a sophomore with the age of fifteen. Though she was dressed in her usual polo and jeans getup, she had an air of maturity about her that made her seem a lot older than she actually was - maybe around seventeen if I had to guess without knowing her actual age. I, in comparison, was only eleven though my next birthday would be arriving sometime in the next two months, so I guess you could describe me as being around twelve despite the fact that I looked around ten for I was short compared to the other children of my age.


As soon as our mother drove off, Beatrice and I went to our respective classes - not conversing of course as we rarely did.


I entered the room full of unknown faces minus one exception: Harry Mallor, my senior in junior high. We were now in the same grade. He greeted me with a wide grin and grabbed the desk next to his own, giving me a gesture to come and sit at the very spot. I did so without hesitation.


Class soon began and ended, then began again, and ended again six times over. And then, before I knew it, the day was over. I was completely deflated by then. My initial excitement wore off by the third time I had to explain that I did, in fact, belong in the ninth grade and that there was no mistake regarding my admission.


And now, it was time to go home.


As mom was busy with work, Beatrice and I were forced to walk home. A dark, gloomy day, normally thought of as a bad day for a walk, but I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the cooler weather, the darkness that came along with it, and the sense of dread filling up the atmosphere. It was pleasant I would say for the lack of a better word.


Then, it started to rain. A perfect walk ruined. While I did like the dark clouds, the same did go for the water they held. We should go home soon.


Beatrice started to head off into the red-light district.


“Wait! Where’re you going?” I asked.


“Home. This way’s quicker.”


It was then when I remembered mother’s words.


“But mom told us not to---”


“It’s fine. I took this route multiple times before. It’s completely safe, so stop being a wimp and let’s go already.”


I wasn’t fully convinced, but since Beatrice was so adamant, I decided to trust her for the time being.


And so, we walked, and walked, and I felt something cold on my neck, and I stopped.


“Uhm… uhm… Beatrice?”


“Ugh… what is it?”


She responded with a clear annoyance in her voice, but then her face turned white. There was a large man behind me and the ‘something cold’ was a knife.


The man whispered into my ears.


“H-he says he wants all our stuff. A-anything that costs money.”


While trembling, I repeated what the man told me.




Shivering and barely breathing, Beatrice took off her backpack, bent over, and began to search for her wallet.


I should be okay. We would be okay. It would all be okay, I told myself, but that was when my throat got slashed.


A sudden burst of blood, yet more and more spilled out forming a sort of pool near my feet for me to dive into, and I did. My face submerged in red, soon fading to black. No. I don’t want to die, yet I didn’t feel like I was. If anything, I felt more alive than ever.


A moment of silence as Beatrice realized what had happened. Then, a scream as she tried to run away. It was too late. Since she was crouched, she couldn’t immediately get up and run from her position. She was caught.


How was I still conscious? My throat was slashed, yet I could still hear everything that was going on - with clear detail as well - maybe even clearer than the moments before.


My sister’s screams as the man struggled to keep her down. The ripping of clothes. Anger. My own. I felt it building up. How dare you do that to my sister!


My throat felt hot - a burning feeling complemented by the burning feeling in my heart. He shall pay! HE SHALL PAY!


My vision returned and the man was gone. No. He was still here though three meters away and splattered against the surface of a nearby building, indistinguishable if not for his clothes. The organs in pieces and dripping from the wall. The bones in fragments and mixed in with the blood. The clothes scattered all throughout though the colors remained the same. A blob of blood and gore.


I felt the skin on my throat. Completely healed - almost as if it wasn’t there in the first place. What in the world happened?


My sister looked as confused as I was.




I wanted to say something; ask her what had happened, but I couldn’t. No words would come out.


The questioning session lasted an eternity - one after another - but as the clock ticked closer and closer to dusk, we were finally allowed to leave though the horror awaiting us at the entrance was a horror potentially more terrifying than the terribly gruesome scenery we had witnessed - our mother.


We had betrayed her trust! Disregarded her advice. Put it aside as if it were some sort of roadkill at the brink of death on the side of the road. However, this time, it would be us who would be run over - we deserved it - yet what I received instead was a heartfelt hug. The horror came afterwards.


Two weeks without my computer and Beatrice without her phone. It was made worse by the fact that we would be forced to stay at home for the next few days in order to recover our sanity. How were we to recover if we were so bored?


Fourteen whole days without anything for us to do - except maybe a counselor’s visit from time to time and school once we go back. So boring… at least that would have been the case if not for my newfound powers.


Psychic wave. An ability that gives the user’s brain waves a physical form. It was an ability I came up with in preschool while writing my first attempt of a story, “The Demon Lord’s Rule” - the ability used by its anti-hero Demon Lord Angar before he was ultimately defeated by the Four Heroes.


How did I do it? My memory was still fuzzy, yet I was almost positive I somehow achieved this feat. Considering none of my counselor’s words could convince me otherwise, could it be recreated?


Put my hand in front. Visualize. A glass cup was on top of my desk. Think about it moving. Being pushed away. An external force affecting this material object. Go.


The cup flew towards my bedroom wall and shattered on impact.


Pounding footsteps. The door burst open.


“What happened?! You okay?!”


It was Beatrice. We were alone in the house for the time being as our mother still had work to go to. Beatrice became a lot more caring towards me following the incident though for how long, I wasn't sure as the incident was still only the day prior.


“Remember the incident yesterday?” I asked.


A flash of shock came over Beatrice’s face, which was quickly substituted with bewilderment.


“What are you bringing that up for?”


“No. This is important. Remember how he died?”


Beatrice became silent, her face turning a pinkish shade of blue. I guess the gore was a bit too much for her to remember.


“Well… I think… I think I may have been the cause,” I expressed hesitantly.




Beatrice could no longer stay quiet. My words were too ludicrous for her to comprehend. After all, I basically just admitted to being the one responsible for the mysterious occurrence that not even the seasoned detectives of the police department could explain.


“Wha-what do you mean?”


“I mean exactly what I mean, Beatrice. I killed him. I killed him, Beatrice! ME!”


I couldn't believe what I was saying while I was saying it, but as I said it, I could tell what I was saying was true.


“I did it, Beatrice! I killed him… using my powers!”


I stared down into my own right hand.  The hand that pushed him away, splattering him against the wall like a mere insect.


… … …


No response for maybe five seconds and then…


“O-okay, Jay. I-I think you might need some help. I mean, it was a stressful event for both of us, you know. We both saw some things that obviously weren’t true. I mean you with your powers; I even thought I saw you die if you could believe that… we-we’re just not all that right in our minds right no--”


“BUT I DID DIE, BEATRICE! Or - at least - my throat really was slashed!”


This time, Beatrice did not even attempt to respond. Instead, she turned around to leave the room, no doubt to call our mother and inform her of my condition.




I thrusted my arm forward and the door slammed shut before she could exit.




Beatrice fell upon the gluteus maximus with a loud, crashing sound.


“Oops, you okay?”


I extended my hand to help her up.


“What the hell was that?”


She slapped it away. Back to good old Beatrice I see.


“This is what I mean, Beatrice. I did this. I did all of it! I killed that man!”


My voice was filled with excitement, yet my hands were trembling as the words came out. I wonder why.


“Isn’t this great, Beatrice! I have powers now! Like in that movie we saw the other night. Power to save the world… or destroy it, rule over it. The choice is all mine! I can do whatever I want!”


I began to laugh maniacally though I couldn’t ever recall the reason.


“I killed him, Beatrice. I killed him. I killed a man. I killed that man, Beatrice. I killed someone. Can you believe it, Beatrice? I killed him. I killed--”


Huh? Suddenly, Beatrice slumped all over me. No. She was hugging me. This should have felt awkward as it was still Beatrice after all, yet it surprisingly did not. It felt comforting - like from our mom. No more of a need to continue this facade. The tears, welling up in my eyes, slithered down my cheeks as I asked Beatrice a question she couldn’t possibly answer.


“What is this, Beatrice? What have I become?”


“It looks like you guys are good to go,” our counselor told us, meaning we were finally allowed to attend school the following day. A two-day recovery, surprising to all but myself as rape victims often take years to recover (if at all); however, Beatrice was strong, and my breakdown the previous evening did much to strengthen her as she realized that she needed to be strong for me.


Glares from all across the room as soon as I entered - and Harry was the one to ask the question on everyone’s minds.


“Y-you okay, bro? I mean… are you feeling alright? Nothin’ broken?” he tried to smile, yet those concerning eyes of his betrayed him.


“Yeah, man. I’m totally fine.”


I mimicked his carefree dialect and ended my response with a fistbump.


“More importantly, what’d I miss… bro?”


It didn’t sound nearly as natural as when Harry said it, but whatever, you know. Just tryin’ to be cool.


“Well… we learned some stuff, did some stuff… you know… school stuff.”


“I do not ‘know.’ You gotta be more specific than that, man. What’d I miss?”


“Well… “


His second attempt of an explanation wasn’t any better than the first and therefore, I ended up getting the necessary information elsewhere. Then, school went on normally as usual.


Finally, it was over. As soon as I arrived home, I dug through the mountain of memorable memorabilia, maintained in the family garage.


There it is! The stack of stories written steadily throughout my childhood. What secrets will they hold? What mysteries will they contain? I started to read.


Why would I want to learn more about something so dangerous, you might ask, but I got curious.


No doubt, my mind was still scarred from my first murder, but it also saved Beatrice. A life for a life. A worthless one, deserving to die, in exchange for a life that was worth saving. I saved her. I saved Beatrice. What else could I do? With these powers, the possibilities are endless.


Three hours later, I had gotten through about half. Dark wings, shadow shield, mind break - all these powers I had invented, then had subsequently forgotten about over the years. Will I be able to perform them as well? As I was considering these possibilities, my train of thought was interrupted from an outside source.


“Dinner’s done so come eat already, you brat!”


“‘Kay, coming!”


Shoot! It was already eight! Experimentation would have to have to wait for the time being as I still hadn’t started on the double pile of both homework and make-up work I was given earlier in the day to finish by the next, but first came dinner, and surely enough, I was especially famished after all that reading in the hours prior.


Unknown to me, at the same time in another place, a young man of around twenty-eight was looking down into a large sheet of paper - a newspaper article detailing an assault on two students of North Valley High. A pair of siblings - one male and the other female - were found delusional at the crime scene.


A large grin appeared upon his visage.


“Finally, found you!” he sang out loud.


He was overjoyed. Ten long years of searching and pain and effort had brought him to this day. His friends had betrayed him, had called him insane, and had abandoned him soon after. Well, who’s insane now?


His laughter pierced the night sky - his howls and whoops becoming booming loud until a certain individual bellowed from her beach-themed balcony for him to be quiet.


“Sorry!” he shouted back.


He then resumed with the more muted chuckles and giggles, yet still containing that same malevolent tone.


The homecoming dance was upcoming sometime in the next few weeks and as expected, I was not planning to attend as I was two years too young to ask anyone at my school out on a date, but that all changed when Harry came up to me with a peculiar proposal.


“But why me though?”


“Cuz… you’re the youngest person I know, man!”


He wanted me to go on a double date with him, his girlfriend, and her younger sister. I couldn’t help but sigh. This truly was bothersome… yet - at the same time - not bothersome as I felt something quite pleasant about this whole ordeal.


“It’s not like I’m not interested in girls or anything like that, but a DATE?! I mean, I wouldn’t even know how to act.”


“Come on, bro. I really like this girl and she can’t go with me if she has babysitting duty. We’re friends aren’t we? Come on, man. For me? Do your brother a solid.”


“Fine,” I responded in my most nonchalant voice possible, yet in reality, I was trying my hardest to hold in my happiness for Harry’s naturally bubbly personality always seemed to ignite a certain natural tendency within me to smile.


“Great! I’ll let her know right away!”


Harry dashed off in the opposite direction.


At this point, I noticed something a bit unsettling in our short discussion. I’m the youngest person he knows, huh?


“Wait!” I shouted after him. “How old is her sister anyways?”


But it was too late. Harry was already far gone.


She can’t be that much younger than me, right? RIGHT?


I later found out my worries were over nothing, but it still freaked me out at the time nonetheless.


Finally, the bell rang, marking the end of sixth period. As I was exiting the classroom, I was stopped by a young man, wearing navy blue overalls and holding a broom - a janitor. I was sure that I had never met - nor even seen - this young janitor before this day, yet his presence emitted a strange sense of deja vu. He then began to speak.


“Are you Jacob Crosman by any chance?” he asked.


I nodded. Well, this was awkward.


“Then, you were the one who was attacked in Curstin recently. Am I right?”


“… right…”


I was confused. Why was this grown man acting with so much familiarity with the eleven-year-old me. Was he concerned for my safety? His face was definitely not one of concern. Of joy? Maybe, but why would he be so joyful upon hearing that I was attacked?




He bobbed his head in satisfaction, then promptly left, turning left at the end of the hallway and disappearing from my sight. With nothing left to do, I left the school to go home as well, trying to leave behind the feeling of unease I got from the encounter.


“You got a DATE to homecoming?!”


This was Beatrice’s reaction upon hearing my request for her to teach me how to dance.


I was never all that good of a dancer though that was mostly because I never tried dancing before other than that one time at a friend’s birthday party back when I actually had friends. Now, all I had was Harry as I left all the others behind in order to advance to high school, but now I’m getting off-track.


In short, my dancing sucked, and I mean really sucked. At least, that’s what Beatrice told me once she observed a couple of my moves as I was unable to distinguish good dancing from the bad for I had little experience in the subject.


I really didn’t expect Beatrice to accept my request as readily as she did, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised as Beatrice is doing a lot of stuff against my line of reasoning these day - ever since the incident. It certainly brought us a lot closer together, so I guess there’s one thing I should thank that man for. Just kidding. The only thing he deserves is a nice, fiery bath in hell.


Anyways, after two hours of little progress, Beatrice gave up, and along with her, so did I. I, who was considered a prodigy at almost everything I did, lost to the simple motions of dance, but that was of no concern for I was still better than most at everything else; therefore, my confidence in my abilities did not falter in the slightest bit.


It was around a quarter to six when the giant limousine came up to my driveway with Harry’s head peaking through the open window.


“You’re late, man!” I shouted.


“Sorry, bro. Traffic.”


Harry replied with a weak excuse and a warm smile.


As the son of the owner of the candy company Mallor’s Pallors, Harry was rich, and I mean, stinking rich - his net worth being somewhere around in the millions. He had money - enough money to spare - and more. At the very least, he had more than what my mother could ever hope to attain in her lifetime; therefore, it was no surprise when he arrived to pick me up in such a luxurious vehicle.


“Hurry up, bro. We gotta go pick up our girls.”


“‘Kay! Coming, man.”


I ran out to the limo.


“Now, you two be safe, okay?”


“Okay, mom! See ya, Beatrice!”


Beatrice didn’t answer.


A smile and then a wink. My signature move. With it, I left her, only to arrive at another location several minutes later.


The house was large - at least double my own - with a cool shade of blue painted across its surface that contrasted with its lemon-colored roof. From its doorway, two beauties stepped out, both wearing bright blue dresses, which corresponded with their bright blue eyes - the older one with her hair dyed black and her sibling - my date - retaining its natural golden brown.


Harry got out of the limo to escort them, and I - not wanting to be left behind - did the same.


“Looking as beautiful as ever, my lady.”


Harry assumed a gentlemanly pose and stooped down to kiss her hand (very un-Harry-like if I do say so myself). Even the tone of his voice changed to fit the tone of his words.


“Well, whatever,” the older girl responded in a nonchalant voice, yet a smirk was forming along her cheeks to show her satisfaction.


As for me and my date, well, we did nothing of that sort. We just stood there and stared at each other, which, in retrospect, I guess was something, but then again, not really as we really didn’t do anything. This nothingness remained all the way to the diner where we were to have our dinner as was decided by Denise, Harry’s date.


“Their patty melts are amazing by the way. I’d highly recommend.”


“Oh really. Then, let’s get four. Excuse me! Waitress! Four patty melts, please!”


Harry and Denise determined our dinner before we had a chance to determine our own, which was fine for me as I did not know anything about the restaurant we were currently at. The bigger problem was Denise’s sister Annabelle with whom I had yet to speak.


“So… uhm…“


My words came out through her other ear as her eyes were glued to the device in her hands.


“How are you doing, my lady?”


My poor imitation of Harry did little to change the situation. How should I approach this? How should I approach her? That device! That device was the distraction preventing our interaction, but I guess it was fine for I didn’t want to intrude on her enjoyment.


“Ann,” Denise whispered as she nudged Ann in the arm.




Ann put her phone down on the table, then locked her screen. That’s when I saw it.


“You read Voldeen?”


Voldeen, the intergalactic mercenary. What I saw on her screen before she locked it was a scene from Voldeen, volume 5, where Voldeen had to escape from the time prism before the Time Guardians finished their Eliminature Ritual.


“Yeah. Fourth time, why?”


“I love Voldeen. Read it twice personally.”


“Oh, really?”


Ann seemed intrigued. I had finally broken through her barrier and had started a conversation - a feat I had once thought of as impossible moments prior. This conversation lasted throughout the rest of our dinner and all the way to the dance though not much dancing went on due to this conversation.


And finally, it was time to go home.


“Did you guys have fun?”




Excited, we all responded unanimously to Harry’s question.


“Great! Now, Sam should be around here somewh-- Oh! There he is!”


The limousine was parked directly across the street from our school, and Sam, Harry’s driver, was waiting for us to get inside. And so, we did, starting with the ladies and ending with us. We drove off - off to the ladies’ house to drop them off, and then to mine, and finally, to Harry’s. A fitting end to a great evening if everything was to go well. Needless to say, it did not.


A rotting body behind the bush - Sam’s - but none of us noticed it as we left it far behind.


A few moments passed after we had dropped off the girls, and it didn’t take long for us to notice we weren’t heading in the right direction.


“Sam?” Harry questioned as he got out of the car, yet with no response.


Strange, I thought as I too exited the vehicle. That was when that bullet was fired, piercing my heart.




“The heck are yo--” Harry tried to ask, but a second bullet cut Harry off short. Through the shoulder so Harry didn’t die, but that didn’t mean he was necessarily fine either.


And then, the perpetrator revealed himself.


“The Janitor?!” I immediately thought, but no, that wasn’t it. He wasn’t just a lowly janitor. He wasn’t just a lowly human. He was something greater - a hero.


“I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!” he screamed. “That I, the feeble Feivel, weakest of the Four Heroes, will be the one to take down Demon Lord Angar!”


His eyes were gleaming with madness as his mouth made its shape into a smirk.


“I told you idiots he was alive. I told you! But, no. You didn’t believe me. Called me crazy. Well, what do you think of this now? Huh? What do you think of this? He’s right there as his all so demonic self.”


By calling me a demon, he was likely referring to the black miasma emitting from my body. Of course, I, having been shot, did not realize this.


“But no more for he will be no more as I guessed right this time, and I shall end him. Bye-bye, Mr. Demon Lord. Your reign of terror will end tonight.”


He’s gonna kill me? I’m going to die? I should’ve been scared. I was about to be killed, yet only those two words lingered in my mind.


This time.


What did he mean by these two words? Did he guess wrong before? If so, then how? Who? Racking my brain - who could it be? - I could only come up with one name - Beatrice. She was there at the time of my awakening. She was there for me as I came to terms with my powers. She was there to teach me dancing, give me advice, give me comfort, company, and give me so much more. The thought of her not being there to give me anything anymore scared me. Frightened me. No. She is still there. She is still alive. She better be.


That burning feeling first felt five weeks prior returned as my heart started to beat faster and faster. Like a ticking time bomb, ticking towards its time of explosion.


Tick. Tick. Tick.


A timepiece ticking in my head. Terror took over Feivel, but not for long as he was no more. Dark wings. Fly. I left Harry behind. The sirens. They will be able to help Harry just fine. Better than anything I could do. I needed to get to my house and fast. I needed to get to Beatrice.


I landed near our front porch and rushed inside.


“Beatrice. Beatrice, where are you?” I called with no avail.


“Beatrice? Beatrice!”


Please be safe, Beatrice. Please. For both my sake and yours.




Just when I was about to give up…


“What is it, loser? It’s past twelve. Get some sleep.”


A very cranky Beatrice emerged from her room.


“Beatrice!” I exclaimed.


Beatrice… she was here. She was safe. I hugged her tight, not wanting to let go. I’ll never let go. Tears welled up in my eyes as I cried into the night. She was safe. Beatrice was safe, and I was happy. I was happy not knowing the repercussions of using my powers on this very night.

Submitted: November 18, 2017

© Copyright 2021 William Jeon. All rights reserved.

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