Flash: All the Way Back

Photo by Orkhan Farmanli on Unsplash

Chapter One: A Mother

A big black SUV pulled up to the curb outside my suburban house. I glance over to where my two kids are playing in their wading pool as I pretend to turn off my hose. It was never on; I had been practicing elemental water magic taking care of the roses, hollies, and yews surrounding my home. The magic still dripped around me from the plants, ready to be called up. I eased back the energy when I recognized the person stepping out the back but didn’t dismiss it entirely. She wasn’t suppose to be here today.

“Hey Danny!” My wife waved at me before saying something to those still in the vehicle. After she slammed the door shut, the dark oversized vehicle pulled out. When she started waddling my way, our youngsters, upon seeing their mother, leaped out of their pool and streaked toward her across the grass.

“Brian, be careful,” I yell, setting aside the hose and closing the distance.

Our oldest took a stutter step at my command, which mean Tyla only got hit by twenty pounds of exuberance instead of the combined sixty. Emma wrapped her arms around both of Tyla’s legs upon contact, but my very pregnant wife managed to remain standing. Brian took a gentler approach, but velco’ed on the side opposite his sister none-the-less. They had missed her.

When I got in range, I pecked her check. “You’re home early.”

She was three days ahead of schedule. I ran a quick charm behind her back, while I grasped her arm. Tyla wasn’t nervous or scared, but that meant little with a seer wife. She processed things years before I even know a danger is coming. The lack of anger though, that was a good sign. Since coming in her full confidence after college, her temper shook mountains. The core stillness, on the other hand, like waiting for a sword to be drawn, that didn’t bode well.

She gave me a twisted smile indicating she knew I had cast an empath linkup. It rivaled the expression on the snake torque I gave her during our wedding ceremony five years ago, its gray eyes sparkling in the mid-day sun, the gleam matching her eyes. “I missed you too much.”

I leaned in close to whisper in her ear, “Bullshit.” The Sisters never do anything without a plan.

“You say the sweetest things.” Tyla laughed, a light blush rising, before grabbing me by the back of my head and pulling me in for a deep kiss. After letting me come up for air, her voice dropped into a growl. “Let’s get inside, hmm?”

Damn. I run a finger over her lips and she gives them a quick bite. Her gray eyes wink white a moment before returning to normal.

Damn. Damn. “Let me put away the hose and clean up the mess.”

“No problem. Come on Emma, Brian, let’s get you cleaned up for dinner.” Tyla herded the kids inside.

Outside, I did the visible cleanup. I also activated all the protections I had built up outside the house over the years; stone walks, water features, a firepit in the back for my elemental specialty and likely well-planned for by any Purists observing us, but the true protection laid in the plants. One of the professors from the university helped me with the landscaping. The yews and hollies snapped to attention and the rose thorns extended, dripping oily allergens as obnoxious as poison ivy.

***
Chapter Two: A Mission

Daniel finished putting the children to bed while I cleared the table of leftovers. I checked the chore chart, grateful once again his willingness to work with my inability to keep days straight. A big red rectangle picked Thursday out of the background. Laundry.

I moved to the laundry room where a half dozen small piles scattered around the floor. No baskets were in the sorting or folding areas. I opened the dryer to discover a pile of pink leggings and blue jeans, so pulled over an empty basket. While I moved the items from the washer to the dryer, my husband joined me, pulling over the basket of the finished dryer clothes for folding. After turning on the dryer, I ask, “What’s next?” pointing at the piles he had sorted at some point today.

“Underwear, whites, and cottons.” He indicated two of the six piles.

I start picking them up and shoving them into the washer.

“So why are you here, really?” he asked, rolling the pink leggings with daisies into a tight tube.

I shrug. “It’s the safest place.”

He barked a laugh. “Our house? Better than the Sisters’ fortification with their guards and security systems?”

“And a big, very known location with dozens of access points.” I scrap detergent from bar we buy from an herbalist with a dulling knife into a bowl until it reaches the inside mark for a medium load. Dumping the curled soap on top of the load, I start the washer, then reach for the sharpening stone. “The Sisters decided to send some of the more vulnerable home.” I rub my huge belly; inside the baby kicked in protest of me underplaying some of the details of the heated discussion between me and the rest of my cohort of Fates.

My husband sighed deeply. “Is it starting?”

“We think so.” The sharp sounds of steel on slate fill the room as I bring the soap knife up to a keen, safe edge.

“You should be at the Fortress or at least Adheim.”

I shake my head. “No, today I’m bait.”

“What?!?”

***

Chapter Three: A Massacre

Fucking hell. She did not agree to that, did she? “What do you mean, you are bait?”

“They are attacking tonight,” my wife wiggled her hands back and forth, “in nearly all timelines. And we decided to place some of the more tasty morsels outside the Estates, me being one of the best.” She smiled deeply and winked. “Because of you. They want me, but the purists HATE you.”

As they should. Between me and her, we have stopped or disarmed every attack they made against us since the day they dropped the bomb on us during her freshman year at college. And while she always tried for the non-confrontational, non-lethal method preferred by seers, as an elementalist, I didn’t limit my options to being a nice guy. “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t either. There is no way to get the children away in time.”

I grip her wrist, the one holding the honing stone. “Are they — will they be okay?”

“Usually, but not always. That will depend on you.” Tyla tapped my hand gripping her with her knife.

“What will I need to do?” I growled, not letting go.

Snatching her hand out of my grip, she turned, placing the knife on the magnet holder above the washer, out of reach of the children and the honing stone in the bag beside it. With her back turned to me, she spoke to the wall. “Don’t hold back. Whatever you do, trust me to do my part, and don’t hold back.”

Goosebumps raised on my arms and across my back. I gasp the back of her neck, turning her around. “What do you mean–”

Behind us, the wall exploded. Due to our placement between machines, I take no injury and am able to get a wind shield up in time to protect her. She looks up at me, a spell-bomb in her hands, and snarled, “Get them,” before crushing the ball between us.

A thousand memories assaulted me and instantly cleared.

“You bitch,” we say staring into the eyes of our woman.

The ball was a reincarnation charm. All memories in every life just became available to us. In this lifetime, we were a college professor and still managed to wrack up a kill count in the dozens over the past four years protecting what is ours. Our wench and our spawn.

This was our most civilized life ever.

Tyla just unleashed a monster.

“Your bitch.” She smiles her possessive snake smile with white eyes gleaming. “Go. Win.”

We summon a sword from the other side of the world from the sandy grave it had been buried in for the last five centuries. We grab her head and ravage her mouth, half of the lifetimes remembering this being as our match and soulmate. “Keep the youngins safe,” we order before jumping out the door into our backyard.

The firepit is flaring from their elementalist calling the energy forth.

My land. My magic. You are fools to attack me here.

We force the invader’s energy back, claiming dominion, returning the magic in a feedback loop spell our present life had developed. Someone screamed as their eyes boiled. The woman said not to hold back.

The man of today is worried the horrors we are about to unfurl will disgust our wench, but we know her measure. She owns the monster she has leashed with her love.

The metal elementalist memory sends the sword singing through a golem, while the water elementalist redirect water from a programmed night-time watering system to drown a driver who thought themselves safe a block away.

And the aspect of the evil creature that is ourselves which loves plants, the one who was the worst of us, rises from where we have buried him. Most of us have been simple soldiers, warriors, and killers. That lifetime had been a devoted gardening monk. Most people consider herbalists these soft, caring beings. They don’t realize how many plants are actually poisonous. That the majority of plants on this planet rather kill humans than be cultivated. During that lifetime, we communed with plants and embraced their hatred.

Daniel Hawkins, with his careful landscaping, had provided it with an army of vines, trees, and shrubs.

Three creatures leap beyond us, scrambling up the outside of the house to the girl-spawn’s window. We nod. That is the most defendable position. The woman said to trust her with her part. She could guard the children.

We turn away as three bodies fly back from the window, sparkling from electricity.

That’s our mate. Now to prove ourselves worthy of her. We roar and rush forward into the savage greenery.

(words 1,719; first published 12/28/2023)

All the Way Forward Series
1. All the Way Forward Part 1 (chapters 1-3) (8/29/2021)
2. All the Way Forward Part 2 (chapters 4-6) (10/21/2021)
3. All the Way Back (chapters 1-3) (5/1/2022)

Flash: N is for Natalie (Mom Eyes 4)

Photo by Elia Pellegrini on Unsplash

“What have we got?” Major Heart asked, setting his coffee on the conference room desk.

Lightning Bug rolled her eyes. The empath asked that question every time, even though everyone got the agenda before.

Wolfman growled. “It’s a Tuesday after a holiday weekend.”

“At least all the emergencies have been cleared.” Natalie, a Sleepless One, covered the office twenty-four six, getting Sundays off. Each state had the normal uptick, about double normal, for the four-day weekend.”

“What were the emergencies?” Major Heart asked, the official leader of the Powered Review Board, due to being an actual retired Major from the Air Force.

Natalie called up the view screen. “Emergent Energy, Fire, in California.”

“Thank god it wasn’t fire season.” Wolfman’s altered vocal cords adding a permanent roughness to his voice.

“Small favor.” Natalie mechanically changed to an overview of the state, “We still lost over 50,000 acres. The human, we still don’t know who was at the center, couldn’t turn it off. Kill order required.” She clicked to the next. “Mental Emergent, sleeper. We found him in the center of Middleboro, Kentucky with all the residents asleep around him. We sent in two Sleepless Ones, who promptly fell asleep.”

Lightning Bug raised an eyebrow, Natalie’s voice, normally emotionless, sharpened with jealousy.

“Mistress Mental, with Booster’s help, woke Charles Hewitt from a distance of four and a half miles. Age fifteen. His parents agreed to a nanobot injection. Mistress is now back in the hospital.”

“She is pushing, what, seventy?” Lightning Bug, the youngest of the group, asked.

Major Heart responded. “Eighty-two.” He studied his coffee as he thought about one of the heroes he grew up with reaching the end of her career and life. “We don’t have anyone her equal. Best second is Tasmanian Telepath in Australia.”

“And he is a very distant second at that.” Wolfman commented.

“And then …” Natalie paused, knowing how the next would affect the others. She didn’t bother reading the report aloud.

“A kid.” Lightning Bug shook her head. “I fucking hate it.”

“At least no one was hurt trying to save them.” Wolfman said softly. “It looks like it was contained.”

“Only three million dollars in damage.” Major Heart read. “So that it for the emergencies, right?”

Natalie nodded. “As for the rest, 343 potential registered, higher than our average 50 per day for the United States, but holiday stress tends to bring out those hiding things and a lot of others wait until after the holidays, just to have that last moment with family. The state Review Boards sent us seventeen as potential powerful Powereds. First one is Chuck registering at the New York City Center.” She brought the file up on the screen. “Energy. Heat. Displayed powers, with control so the man has been practicing, likely in an upstate fishing shack. Age Twenty-five.”

Everyone reached for their tablets. The newly registered Powered just got engaged, likely had to register because their fiancee required it. Family members were the best resource for getting people registered. Chuck not only raised temperature and produced flame, he could snuff them out and reduce heat to 0 degrees Celsius in an enclosed space.

Lightning Bug quipped. “I love switches.”

Wolfman barked a laugh, while Major Heart ordered Natalie to keep an eye on the registered as he moved through testing. “He could be useful in fighting forest fires.”

Next was a toddler from Georgia developing invulnerability, but with full physical manifestation.

“Another kid.” Lightning Bug shook her head.

Major Heart reviewed the initial findings. “He’s been separated from his family, of course.”

Natalie confirmed.

“Chances of … Billy … surviving the transformation?” Major Heart swiped through his tablet trying to find the details needed.

“Typically transformations this drastic have a ten percent survival rate, with the majority suffering irreparable social and emotional damage during the process.” Natalie recited from memory. “Individuals under the age of five when the transformation started represent half of those that survive to twenty.”

“How about to age forty?” Lightning Bug asked, her voice teasing.

“The oldest full physical manifestation alive, Earthmover, is thirty-three. Her body effectively changed to stone when she was three months. Lizard was the next oldest, living to twenty-nine and twelve days. His change happened when he was four. I have no data on anyone surviving to forty. ”

“Damn it.”

“Invulnerability, mass increase, developing scales and claws. Lots of potential if he makes it.” Major Heart nodded. “He will need full training. We need more like him.” The empath looked around the table. Lightning Bug nodded reluctantly. Natalie made the notes.

“Agreed. But get him the extra social and emotional help he will need.” Wolfman added.

“As to that,” Natalie raised up the next candidate. “The Physical Manifestation may have already received some through another potential who went through intake at the same center. One Robyn Whittle, age fourteen. Mental ability, empath category.”

“Assumed.” Lightning Bug read. “Why assumed?”

“Initial testing inconclusive?” Wolfman stared at his tablet. “When did that happen last?”

“With Roseman, six months ago.” Natalie answered promptly.

Lighning Bug snapped her fingers, leaving a spark behind. “I remember. What a run-around he gave us recruiting him. How is he doing?”

Natalie used her laptop to investigate. “He was terminated.”

“Fuck.”

“Of course he was.” Wolfman sighed, rubbing the pads of his fingertips across his hairy eyebrows before pinching the bridge of his nose.

Major Heart didn’t even comment. Basic training wasn’t kind on normals with just normal munitions in the training mix. Powers added another level of danger. And Roseman had been an self-centered bigoted reactionary, with powers affecting molecular bonds. The old air man had signed off the termination order with the tribunal after Roseman injured three of his fellow students with a prank and killed a fourth in a separate incident.

“Her blood work shows Powers, but does not carry any physical traits except eyes.” The empath brought them back on task.

“Meaning her eyes are a channel for her powers, which seem to be a mix of mostly mental and .. unknowns.” Wolfman titled his tablet screen up. “Senorita has very pretty eyes. I bet the high school boys love her.”

“She says her powers ‘Makes people better.’” Lightning Bug commented.

Natalie opened up a video player. “The center sent her initial interview. They said to pay particular attention starting at the ten minute mark.” The Sleepless One clicked play.

Everything was typical intake of an unaccompanied minor. With most states only have one or two Civic Registration Centers for powers, the review board got to know most of those involved in the review of potentials. Hoot Lane, who liked his paycheck more than people however much he pretended otherwise with his clients, said on screen. “It wasn’t a lie.”  Then the small teenage girl gave him a dirty look and he backtracked the statement with, “I may have presented it incorrectly–”

“Wow. Did she …” Sparks danced along Lightning Bugs silhouette, her armor activated for a moment at the potential danger. The interview continued onscreen. “I’ll shut up now.”

“That is some whammy.” The wolfman barked when they reached the end of the video. The by-the-book agent who firmly believed in getting the Powered off the street and into control had carefully explained the whole testing process with the possible Mental after completing the computer intake, making certain the teenager understood every step, both the pros and cons.

Major Heart eyes narrowed. “It isn’t empathy whatever it is.”

“And yet, she isn’t controlling his behavior, not really. He clearly is not a Puppet. The man was capable of breaking down complicated government procedures into terms a child could comprehend.” Lightning Bug pointed out, her voice urgent. Turning from the screen to Major Heart, she said. “I want her. She is a minor. But grab her anyway.”

“She did say her powers are always on.” Major Heart considered. “That gives us a lot of leeway.”

“She already lost her mother and brother. Taking away from her father will work against us.” The furry monster of the group argued.

“Weekend training?” Natalie offered.

Wolfman tapped his fingers against the wood. “She wants good grades.”

“It’s not like she isn’t going to ever go to college.” Lightning Bug sneered, knowing the drill, being snapped up at sixteen herself.

“Illusions are important.”

“Says the story tale monster.”

Wolfman smirked. “Then I know what I am talking about, spark plug.”

A soothing calm came across to both of them, making Lightning Bug roll her eyes. Major Heart was so predictable.

“Weekend training with tutor to help her graduate early.” Major Heart ordered Natalie to arrange. “Get her to Mistress Mental as soon as the Mistress is healthy enough.”

“I think the senorita has spent enough time in hospitals.”

“She’ll get over it.” Major Heart said to Wolfman. “Empaths spend a lot of time in hospitals.”

(words 1,482; first published 1/11/2023)

Series: Mom Eyes

  1. R is for Robyn (12/28/21)
  2. B is for Billy (4/3/22)
  3. H is for Hoot (4/10/22)
  4. N is for Natalie (4/17/22)

Flash: Summertime on Ullr (U is for Ullr)

Photo by Tapio Haaja on Unsplash

Vesna studied the grav-girder structures slowly emerging from the ice fog. Even after twenty years crossing the universe, those types of buildings still seemed to be held together by wishes and dreams. The fact their foundations were built into glaciers, and the glaciers were melting as a natural part of Ullr’s two-hundred-sixty-three year orbit around its star, didn’t make her confidence in them any better. Give her the mud huts and repurposed colony ships of her youth. Humans weren’t meant to live hundreds of meters in the air.

Do you see wings? Nope no wings. Not a single human deviation in all the nine hundred planets had made wings work.

Now how was she going to manage to keep the methane industry alive for the short two years of summer of this planet’s skewed orbit? Those three buildings represented 90% of the housing and industry on this Hel-blessed planet. They had to remain standing.

(words 154, first published 9/14/2022 – from a picture prompt for a Facebook writing group. Aim is about 50 words)

 

Flash: H is for Hoot (Mom Eyes 3)

Photo by Renaldo Kodra on Unsplash

Noise echoed off the raised ceiling of the repurposed waiting room. At one point, the carved ceiling imposed awe for those seeking governmental services. Now, the Civic Registered Center filled with male teens joking together and the adults registering for Powers siting quietly in ones and twos. Those with children were pulled out immediately. Billy and his parents, Robert and Brook Baumgardner got taken back as soon as they hit the first official.

Robyn huddled quietly in the corner after having her school ID checked.

Boys walking out complained about not knowing they had to donate blood with registration.

Robyn frowned. She hadn’t heard about that before. Must be new.

The part in her – the new one that told her what was good and what wasn’t – said that wasn’t good.

Just like it said the one guy sitting by himself was a problem, and the two over in the corner were working themselves into a bad place. Like when Ramses kept getting angry about school instead of actually doing something for school, three fights later he was expelled and in juvie.

Exhausted from her time with Billy, Robyn leaned back in her chair considering. Was there anything she could do for those adults, the angry or the bad? Would they even listen to a kid? No, her gut said.

Her mind agreed. Didn’t like it, anymore than when all she could do was hug her dad after he had a bad day at work, but her little Power couldn’t fix everything.

She smiled to herself. It was very, very cool that it did help Billy.

“Robyn Whittle.” A man in a jacket and dark blue tie called from the front of the room.

Seemed she hopped the line, just a little more slowly than the actual kids. Only two adults beat her to the back since she checked in. And they had been at the very front of the line, waiting on the Center steps when she arrived. They were clearing the draft registerees quickly through a different door.

She nodded at the man as he led her back to his office with a door. Most of the people working had raised gray walls partitioning areas off. The man’s office was one of three along the north side, both of the others still had families in them. The Baumgardeners were in one and the fairy girl was in the other. She wondered how green boy made out.

“Hello Robyn, my name is Hoot Lane. You can call me Mr. Lane or Hoot, whichever makes you more comfortable. Please have a seat.” He motioned to one of the two chairs in front of his desk before walking around to his seat.

Robyn chose the chair that let her glance sideways at his computer. It had a privacy screen, so nothing was visible. “Thanks, Mr. Lane.”

“So, I take it, you are here to register a Power?” Hoot leaned forward, steepling his fingers.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you know the category?”

“Category?” Roybn shifted in the seat. “Oh, yeah, some of the other kids mentioned them covering that in health. I start that next semester. Obviously, not a Freak, I think … Brainie?”

The intake specialist made a face when she said Freak. “We sort the Powers into physical, mental, energy, and special.”

“I guess mental then.”

“Mental,” the man said that slowly, drawing out every sound, “Are you sure?”

The rules for the non-visible Powers, especially mental, were much more involved. Laws and laws, still being sorted out since Powers started in the seventies. Most of the kids snored through that part of American History last year, including her. Now, she wished she paid more attention.

Her gut said the definition wasn’t quite right, and it was important to be right. Good to be right. Sometimes it was okay to smudge the truth, but in this case, the pancake wouldn’t rise.

“Maybe Special?”

“Special?”

Her gut liked that better. Still wasn’t quite right, but corn syrup is still syrup, however much mom used to like maple. Robyn’s gut liked syrup.

“Whatever, it isn’t physical – not doing better in gym or have anything strange happening with my body … other than … you know.”

“Being a teenage girl, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Robyn shrugged. “And it isn’t visible like fire or plasma bolts like Phoenix. So special or mental.”

“Okay.” The man nodded. “Can you tell me what happens when you use Powers?”

“Um, okay, it’s weird.”

“I’ve dealt with a lot of weird in my day, the entire state goes through this office.”

“People calm down and do better around me.” Robyn wigged in the seat, wrapping a foot around the chair leg.

The man who thought he had heard it all blinked. “Can you expand on that? Maybe the first time you noticed it?”

After a long, slow, inhale, Robyn’s words tumbled out. “Yeah, so the first time was in the locker room before gym. Girls being girls, Jennifer was laying into all of us with smaller breasts. She really got on my case saying Latino girls should have big boobs and big butts, anyway, I stared at her thinking ‘Really, you are going on about this when we are about to go out for dodge ball and all go home with bruises. You got a brain girl, use it for once.’ And she backed off. Like apologized and backed off. She never apologizes. Anyway, during dodge ball she stepped between the ball and Rhonda, who was still recovering from the last hit. And, you know, she hasn’t teased people about the size of their breasts since.” Robyn wound down from her prepared example, then struggled to figure out how to close. She hated presentations in English class for just this reason, but she guessed that this is the perfect example of why they had to learn to do this stuff in school. “Anyway, Jennifer is nicer. Not that we have become friends or anything, she is just … a better her. Hell, her grades have even gone up.”

“Okay, that is weird.” The registration expert leaned back, frowning a bit. “From your observation, she isn’t much different, just the behavior you attempted to modify ceased.”

“I guess?” Robyn waved to the wall. “The Baumgardners, I did a lot of whammy on them waiting out in that line, more than I’ve ever tried on anyone. I usually tried to keep it down, but the Power seems to be on all the time.”

“The Baumgardners, the ones with the Physical Manifestation next-”

“The ones with Billy, the kid who is in a great deal of pain.” Robyn interrupted firmly. “Pain and scared because his parents couldn’t make the pain stop. Babies are always so sad when they are teething, you know, parents always make pain go away – belly hurt, they feed them; butt hurts, diaper change time; overall hurt, somehow the big ones make them sleep. But teething – or physical manifestation – that doesn’t stop and the parents can’t make it stop. Terrifying when your entire memory is less than a year. Will you always hurt? So I assured him the pain is temporary. Made him less scared. Less scared also equals less pain, especially with his parents holding him.”

The man focused on the Power portion. “You made him less scared.”

“I think.” Again Robyn shrugged, “at least it felt that way.”

“Anything else.”

“I made the mom more confident in her ability to deal with the problem.”

The man muttered. “Empath?”

“Excuse me?”

“Just trying to figure out if a category already exists for you.” Hoot said. “Doesn’t seem to be full telepathy, but your Power does have some emphatic aspects.”

“Empathic?”

“Control, sending or receiving of emotions.” The government agent smiled. “Useful in crowd control. Major Heart is a crowd empath and is paid to attend concerts, sporting events, and other functions. On a smaller scale, empathy can make individuals feel good.”

“Oh, right,” Robyn remembered something from the news, “Or fearful, like Panic Stomp did last month in Chicago.”

“Yes, like that. Some Powers prefer to be criminals.”

Robyn pressed her hand against her stomach. “I’m not sure mine will let me.”

“Excuse me,” Hoot leaned forward and steepling his fingers, “can you explain?”

“It’s got this gut thing, says what is good and what is bad. Doesn’t like the bad things. Makes me sick to my stomach.”

A little fear entered the man’s eyes for the first time. Children with powers were bad enough; powers which have their own “minds” often ran to nightmares scenarios. “That’s good. Right?”

“Yeah, I guess. Been okay so far.” Robyn knocked her foot against the chair leg before wrapping it around the metal again. Teachers hated when she kicked things. “As dad says, ‘Keeps me honest.’”

A sigh of relief escaped the government worker. “So your father knows about your powers Robyn?”

“Oh no, he doesn’t.” She shook her head. “I’m gonna tell him when I get home tonight. I just didn’t want to worry him until, you know, I could tell him the options.” The teen studied her fingers, not making eye contact. “So. What are my options?”

Hoot glanced at the pamphlets on his desk, straightening on pile entitled “Children Love Our Special Schools” and the posters decorating the walls around his office. “Options. Well, we will need to do a full battery of tests first.”

“How long?” Her head popped up. “Winter break is only two weeks and I can’t miss my freshman year. I got perfect attendance and I need everything I can get for scholarships to get into college because we got no money and dad already works so hard and I mean, I still need to do two papers during break though I got most of the studying done so I could come here and do the things you need, but I also got to babysit my cousins because they are off too. And–”

“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay, Robyn.” Hoot held up his hands. “The first tests can be done at home. We can send someone. If you need additional tests, we can work around your school schedule. Depending on the results, you might even end up for your own personal tutor and free college education.”

The gut twisted at that one.

“Ugh.” Robyn leaned forward, swallowing down the nausea. “Please don’t lie like that.”

Hoot shook his head. “It wasn’t a lie.”

Robyn looked up, making solid eye contact for the first time in the interview, and Pushed.

He gulped. “I may have presented it incorrectly though. The first tests are easy, blood draws, verify nothing in your house is impacting the results you have observed, maybe send a Sorter, if one is available. We are really careful about Mentals. Basically rule other things out, and see if we can get a whiff of your actual powers. Sometimes as a teen, or even adult, people imagine things that aren’t real.”

“I assure you, I’m Powered.” Robyn sat up straight, keeping eye contact.

“And I believe you, but we must document it and go through all the right channels.” The man started typing on his computer. “Let’s get you properly registered, although your father will need to sign the paperwork tonight, unless there is a reason he cannot, such as your safety.”

“Nah, dad is cool.” Robyn lips twisted, “So long as I don’t come home with cancer, he’ll be okay.”

The man stopped typing. “Your mom?” he asked gently.

“My brother. COVID got Mom.”

“I’m sorry.”

Robyn stared as only a child who had heard those two words too often could.

“Right,” Mr. Lane cleared his throat. “So, I have your name, address, birthday, Let’s finished the forms.”

The questions were simple, ones asked and answered a dozen times at school and doctor offices.

(words 1,972; first published 1/11/2023)

Series: Mom Eyes

  1. R is for Robyn (12/28/21)
  2. B is for Billy (4/3/22)
  3. H is for Hoot (4/10/22)
  4. N is for Natalie (4/17/22)

Flash: B is for Billy (Mom Eyes 2)

Photo by Kat J on Unsplash

Robyn shifted her body, rocking her weight from one foot to the another, waiting in the long line outside of the city’s Civic Registration Center. At fourteen, she wasn’t the youngest in line, though she was the youngest without a parent in tow. The three other minors were Freaks, with clearly newly emerging physical powered traits. The six-year old girl, shirtless for the itsy bitsy wings growing out her back, danced around in her tutu and tights and fairy wand having the time of her life with a very scared young mother looking hopeful at the same time. The mother’s stained coat showed wear at the pockets and sleeves, her hair needed a trim, and lines of worry already edged between her eyes and the corners of her mouth. Getting a registered powered stipend might make their lives better, rather than worse. Winged angel types got some good Hollywood jobs, especially cute golden-haired girls.

The Freak teen turning green – the skin a dismal, about-to-puke tinge; the hair just starting to have a brilliant green at the part and his badly shaved scruff – he likely wouldn’t do as well. People didn’t respond well to people outside the normal color range. Heck, they didn’t respond well to people inside the normal color range. Hispanic on her father’s side gave Robyn dark hair, eyes, and skin – just enough people questioned her “whiteness.” It’s why she chose German instead of Spanish as her high school language, instead of the easy A from her fluency visiting her family in Honduras every summer.

The other child registering was the sad one. Bumps, swellings, and twists along the visible arms and legs poking out of the blanket indicated changing into something … else. The change looked painful. The father and mother traded off holding the crying child. Everyone else gave them a wide berth, even the happy angel kid.

Having enough of it, Robyn gave up her place in line toward the front and walked down the line to the potential Monster. Most of the line were eighteen-year-old males, or males about to be eighteen, doing their civic duty to register for a possible draft. Like herself, they were taking advantage school being closed for the winter break. The balance were people hoping, or fearing, the Strange Thing that just happened in their life required Registration.

“Hello,” Robyn said to the parents once she arrived, standing straight and tall, glad her recent growth spurt gave her some real height, although she would never be considered tall.

The father startled, looking down at her. No one in line had made eye contact with the family, let alone talked to them. “Um, hi.”

“The office should open soon, but it will be a while until they get to you.” She smiled, first at the dad and then the mom, making eye contact. “If one or both of you would like to run across the street to get a coffee, I could stay here and keep your spot.” Robyn moved her eyes to the kid, smiling wider and gently touching one of the bumps. “I know it can be scary.”

The child looked up at her gentle touch, solid black eyes below a hard ridge unibrow stared. Robyn poured reassurance into her eyes, and the child stopped crying.

“How?” the mother breathed, barely audible.

“It’s going to be okay.” Robyn smile twisted a little, offering her finger to the child who reached for it with club-like claws. “Well, as okay as it can be.” She diverted her attention to the mother for a moment. “Would you like me to hold the kid? You’ve been carrying the load for a long time.”

The mother sank into Robyn’s eyes. They held something she hadn’t seen since her own parents died. It wasn’t hope so much as confidence that the world could be made better. That she could be better. “Yes, sure.”

“What’s your name little one?” Robyn took the heavy bundle, wincing only a little as the sharp claws gripped tightly.

“His name is Billy.” The father said.

“Billy,” Robyn hopped the body up to her hip like when she babysat her cousins, “I’m Robyn, nice to meet you.” A quick look at the parents, before returning to staring into the child’s eyes. “If one of you stay here, the other can run and get food. You got to be hungry.”

“Yes, it took us three hours just to get here.” The mother said. “We live in Washington.”

The Registration Center was one of two in the state that did Voluntary Powered Intake, the other at the Capital.

“Would you like something?” the father asked quietly.

Robyn shook her head. “I grabbed breakfast before leaving. I’m used to eating early before catching the bus for school.”

“A soda? Donut?” the mother offered.

“We don’t need anything, do we Billy?” Robyn said, switching to child sing-song. Focusing on the kid, seeing if she could get a smile. “All set to get registered.”

“Oh,” the mother muttered, before repeating with deeper understanding. “Oh. Should … should your parents be here?”

“Dad had to work today.”

The adults immediately understood that meant no one at home, and the fact Robyn didn’t mention a mother implied a whole host of things, since even now women usually ended up with the child if there was a separation.

“I’ll get the food.” The couple quickly exchanged their standard order preferences, and the father headed across the street.

“So Robyn,” the mother smoothed her child’s hair, several strands falling with the caress. “looking forward to the registration?”

Robyn pressed her lips together, holding back her first several responses. Even at fourteen, she had experienced prejudice, known death, faced off against the authorities, and lacked trust in the world. But still, in her core, she knew people could do better. They just needed help sometimes. Her father worked so hard. No one was meant to do this all alone. And those that just made life more difficult, she had no patience for. None of this needed to be shared with the random adult, or the others in line.

“As much as you.” Robyn wiggled the toddler’s finger. Just under two was her guess. “So Billy, how many words do you know?”

“He, um, he’s having trouble since his teeth changed.”

“Oh, I remember when a girl in my class got braces, couldn’t talk for a while because the mouth was all strange.” Robyn bounced the kid in her arms, settling the blanket better. “Don’t worry Billy, you’ll be talking up a storm once things are settled.”

The line moved. The first third entered the building to be processed.

“Thank you.” The mother whispered once they settled in their new spot, people first ebbed closer, then back once the new positions settled.

Robyn glanced up. She guessed some confusion passed over her face because the mother answered as if she asked a question.

“For treating him like a kid.” The mother’s hand fluttered. “Everything was great. Grandparents, family all visiting for Thanksgiving, then … the next day he started …” A sob escaped. “The ER said to register him ASAP. We couldn’t, well … it … we had to talk about it but there really isn’t a choice, is there? I just…”

Robyn freed up one hand and gripped the mother’s hand. “He is still a kid and will still need you.” Her dark eyes met the mom’s brown ones. “You can do this.”

“I can do this,” the mother breathed.

“You and your husband. Talk about things. Talk to Billy. Be the family he needs, whether they institutionalize him or leave him with you. Do your best. That is all anyone can ask.” Robyn poured her power out, feeling it reaching it’s limits. This is the longest she ever actively used it and she needed to save the rest to give Billy a cushion from the pain a little longer. She could feel the edge of one of his gifts giving him the ability to reduce pain; she didn’t want too much, because he was still a kid and needed the limits pain gave, like when learning not to touch a stove, a little pain really helps, but he needed some reduction until the changes tearing him apart were complete. They were learning together how to get to that gift. “Just make sure he knows he is loved. My dad has been through a lot, but that is the one thing he makes sure I know. Every day he tells me and shows me. Hugs me.”

The mother nodded, and Robyn returned her attention and the last of her energy to the kid. When the father returned, they were much closer to the door. Once the parents had eaten, Robyn offered the child back to the dad when he reached for Billy. She had done all she could for now.

“Your father, does he know you are here?” the mother asked.

“No, he would worry.” Robyn smiled sadly, unable drag the energy to put on a happy front. “It’s not like him knowing will change anything.”

“No, probably not.” The woman grasped the teen’s hand. “But he will want to know.”

“I’ll tell him. When I get home. I promise.”

(words 1542, first published 1/11/2023)

Series: Mom Eyes

  1. R is for Robyn (12/28/21)
  2. B is for Billy (4/3/22)
  3. H is for Hoot (4/10/22)
  4. N is for Natalie (4/17/22)