Young Writers Society

It was hard to fall asleep that night. I kept thinking back to the two senseless encounters with Maya. Something about them bothered me but I couldn't formulate exactly what. Eventually exhaustion took me and drifted to sleep expecting the usual nightmares. However, there were none. Not a single time did I wake up before eight the next morning. I slipped out of bed feeling light and relaxed, hell I was almost singing. I had almost forgotten how it was like to feel rested.

    But my rare good mood was not to last.

    Two particular events were destined to ruin me and I had not foreseen either.

    I walked into the kitchen jolly and bright and my smile froze when I found my dad drinking coffee on the dining table. "Finally up?" he said, lifting eyes from his newspaper. He had startled me, I didn't expect him there and it was odd for him to not be at work at this ungodly hour.

    "Morning…" I greeted my pace hastening as I headed for the kettle.

    "So. School is good?" he asked his attention on the newspaper again.

    My grip tightened around the handle. Be nice, I told myself, but it wasn't easy. "It's fine…" I murmured, bringing the kettle under the running water.

    He leaned back and looked in my general direction from under his thick brown eyebrows. "Enjoying your classes?"

    "Yup…" I said, stuffing bread into the toaster. I could feel him tracing my every movement from behind his thin-framed glasses and his gaze felt heavy.

    "So what are your plans for today?" he demanded, his brown eyes still following me as I moved across the kitchen and sat in the chair opposite of his. My chair.

    "I don't know."

    With a sip of his coffee he turned the page. "Drawing? Or on the computer all day?" he asked without even bothering to look at me. There was a tinge of disappointment in his voice and I thought he had intended for me to notice it.

    "Maybe a bit of both." I said, spreading jam over my toast.

    "Really?" his critical gaze fixed upon me. "Why don't you-"

    "Shouldn't you be at work?"

    "Is that the way to talk to your father?" he said coldly.

    "We've been through this too many times. I'm sick of it."

    "Just answer me honestly. Do you think you can succeed in that field?"

    Saying nothing, I looked away. My portfolio hadn't been chosen once more and he must have overheard me complain to my mother. He let me eat my breakfast in silence safe for the occasional rustle of paper and I was grateful.

    He glanced at his watch and closed the newspaper folding it carefully to set aside. Standing up he struggled with the necktie that hung loosely around his shoulders. I lifted my head to see his eyes locked on me. "Look," he said, "I have a friend. He needs an assistant. It's part time. Why don't you try?"

    I froze in my spot. Carefully uncurling my fingers I stood to carry my plate to the sink.

    "So you wont even grace me with an answer?" he demanded over the running water.

    I turned the tap. The water stopped. Taking a deep breath and then releasing I turned to face him. "If you want me to get a job I'll find one, but I won't work that." I said. If he managed to drag me down that path I knew there would be no way out, he'd make sure of it. I wasn't going to get caught in his corporate cage.

    "You don't have to work, but the position will look good in your resume. Think of your future."

    "My answer is no." I said crossing hands over my chest.

    "Maybe you'll like marketing." he continued casually. "I'm not asking you to give up art. You can always draw in your free time." he said and picked up his jacket from the chair.

    "Is that all you wanted to say?"

    "I'll talk to my friend. I want you to try the position." he stated.

    I frowned but did not say what I had on my mind. It would cause too many problems, and a lot of yelling, I had no energy to deal with that. Passing him by, I ran up to my room. Why was it that running away had become my favoured choice of action?

Just as I had guessed a moment later he was at my door. He had finally managed to put on his necktie right, and was now leaning against the door frame tugging at the collar of his suit.

    "I won't take no for an answer." he said all his attention on his clothes. I slowly span my chair around to give him a full front weary look. His eyes met mine. "It won't interfere with your studies…" he said and slowly scanned the room from behind his glasses. His lips pursed ever so lightly and a small frown took over his face when his gaze reached the canvases in the corner, "…not that you have much to study anyway…"

    My hands curled into fists. I would not answer to that.

    "You're starting next Monday." he ordered and my whole body tensed as I resisted the urge to lash out.

    The touch of air on my skin urged me to relax as the current picked up and swayed the curtains. I had left a window open and the next gust of wind slipped in and slammed the door in his face before he was able to continue. I head him hesitate outside and his steps finally moved down the hall. Falling back into my chair I released a sigh of relief. A moment later I heard the front door close. Looking out the window when I rose to close it I saw him stroll down the alley suitcase in hand. He disappeared inside his car and after a moment it drove away with silent rumble. Another sigh escaped my lips. I would get out of this, one way or another, I thought as my eyes traveled up to the colourful tree crowns. My expression froze in a new feeling of dread. It was just then that I had sensed it. Something was wrong, so very wrong.

    I slid the window wide open and popped out looking right and left, up and down. The house was silent, and the street was empty. The sun shone brightly and the birds chipped happily in the trees as in the distance roared cars. Apart from that, it was silent. It was too silent. I felt numb, mentally. All my senses were dulled, and the whispers that always filled the air gone. The quiet static, the buzz of life as it came into existence or faded... was gone.

    My thoughts raced and lingered in the darkest corners of my mind bringing up fears I didn't even know I had. Was I losing what was left of my powers? I wondered in terror.

    And did it really matter anymore?

    Turning on a heel I all but stumbled towards my computer. The first thing I could think of was to do a search. Anything out of the ordinary for the past 24 hours, newscasts, events, weather, hell even conspiracy theories. But there was nothing. It couldn't be nothing, I knew there was something. The air felt dead.

Too much time had passed, I calmed myself, it was simply a glitch, my senses were playing trick on me. But deceiving myself was useless, I knew they weren't.

There was one last thing that I could check. If anything major was going on, it would be reflected in the energy streams. It didn't matter if we could use powers or not, feeling the streams was a given to any living creature with open enough mind and ability to focus. It was the life force of the planet, in a sense. Physical, mental, metaphysical or whatever energy there could be, flowing along much like ocean or air currents. Some were big, slow and rather permanent, currents swiping across entire continents. Others were tiny and fast like the springs formed by melting snow. They came and went, with no fixed position or cycle. And then there were the streams, they were strong and steady, almost like rivers of dense energy weaving across the landscape in an almost permanent pattern. Those were easy to feel in one's mind unlike the vast continental streams or chaotic trickles, and once they had been the main source of power we could no longer use. There were many other types, of course. Every stream could be a category of its own, but it was much easier classifying them so, that's how it had been done and I didn't think there was a better definition.

    Leaning back I closed my eyes and felt for them. It had been so long I was surprised at how little effort it took me. I guessed it was like riding a bicycle, you simply never forgot. My brow furrowed, there was no interference, none at all. Usually there were hiccups, tiny fluctuations, but now there was nothing but a steady flow. They felt healthy, healthier than expected really. Perhaps my senses weren't as sharp as I had thought. No there seemed to be nothing there. That wasn't possible. A wide spread silence like this couldn't occur without a cause or at the very least a trace. The world had stifled as if in expectation and I would find out why.

    For that I needed an energy spot.

    I rolled my chair to the window and peered out into the sun. Closing my eyes I searched. I needed a spot where two streams or more collided and formed a small whirlpool of force before merging or continuing on their way. A knot, so to say. There seemed to be such somewhere in the area and I focused to try and pinpoint its position.

    I snapped my eyes open. Riverwood? Really? No wonder that place attracted me like a magnet, there was a bright although old and almost faded stir of energy there. My lips curved into a smile. It seemed like I was going out for a jog.