Tag: Psychic

Flash: Decanting

Erin Penn

Rating: Mature

Carrying the last of the missing scientists from the burning facility, the mystery man dumped him with the others next to the arriving ambulances. I am concerned. I don’t recognize half of the labcoats or the man who knew the facility well enough to get them out. As security chief for Morning Star Enterprises, I should know everyone from that facility. At least three of the labcoats had names not on the list I keep.

I checked off Anderson; he was the only one left on the list I did have who hadn’t answered his phone or been taken away by the EMTs. Anderson was a chief researcher investigating drugs to maximize human potential. His team recently had their new antibiotic go into human testing.

I walk over to the mystery man. His skin was blackened from the fire and who know what other chemicals are being released from the facility. Everyone else arriving on site is wearing haz-mat suits complete with oxygen masks. A medical worker is trying to steer him to an ambulance without success.

I see some black strips fall off the man. I hope they are from burned cloth, but the man seems to be completely naked. One of his ass-checks bubbles with second-degree burn blisters. The other side black from an oily substance. Other than these two issues, it is the finest butt I have ever seen.

“Hello, I’m Jophiel Caster.” I introduce myself. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

The man turns his deep blue eyes on me. The pain nearly makes me miss the arrival of a couple black sedans. The police detectives have arrived. So far the on-site police have just been directing traffic. Rules and priorities were about to change. I hope Lucette, the CEO, arrives soon before the media circus begins.

Unable to keep eye contact, my eyes drop to his generous lips which I note are twisted in distrust. A feeling I share. Not with the man, but with the situation. I just realized Lucette had been keeping me away from the Indian Land Facility for months now. Something tells me that today’s fire, this man, and three scientists whom I haven’t done background checks on are just the beginning.

I fade out in personal anger, barely seeing the hairless sculptured chest in front of my nose. Sure we were opening our first out-of-state facilities, but I should have noticed the shell game Lucette was pulling. I always had to keep an eye on everything he did from a security standpoint. Lucette was a little too obsessed about research; his passion made him a great CEO. People were willing to risk millions on his beliefs.

Refocusing on the man in front of me, I notice his dick standing proud. Hair curls around it waiting to be touched. The black oil substance has begun to run down his legs leaving his skin clean. The man never responded to my introduction and turns away from the police line blocking the road. As he walks toward the landscaped woods, I notice the butt no longer is burned. The bubbles have disappeared under the oily substance and the other side is rapidly clearing showing tanned skin. Unless the man was always a nudist, this was very bad.

Oh God, is this the genetic creation I have tried to talk Lucette out of? Fuck. He speculated about it five months ago. I told him never in America. The next month he started the expansion. I thought that meant five or six years to get big enough to be in a country without America’s ethics, and also out of my watch as I would quit before dealing with resplicing human DNA on the level Lucette wanted to experiment with.

Shit. Lucette did go forward with it. Scrambling after the creature, I hiss, “B.O.T.I.S., wait”

My world gets reordered when the man freezes. Basic Organism Test of Ideal System. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He responded. Maximum of four months old, of course he follows orders. Probably not successful on the first try, so likely younger than that.

I grab his wrist and drag him to my car. Stuffing him in I say, “I don’t know how much you understand at this point, but I am going to get you someplace safe.”

He holds onto my wrist. “I understand. The man we need to avoid will be here in four minutes. Give an officer your information and get us out of here.” He then grabs my oxygen tube and rips it out. “An excuse to leave.”

Four minute exposure to the chemical soup. I run to where the detectives are located. Why did they have to be where the smoke was pouring out the heaviest?

They accept my clipboard, checklist, card, and explanation one of the scientists spasmed earlier damaging my mask and it finally broke. I escaped as the first of the news vans pull up, demanding all the police to hold them back. None of the reporters have hazard material gear.

In my car, I find Botis in the passenger side wearing the jogging suit I keep in the trunk. The top, thanks to my generous breasts, was big enough for him. The bottom emphasized a prominent feature I should have no interest in. The thing beside me wasn’t human.

Once we were on the road, his hand rested on my nape. “You will need to pick up everything you need from your house and empty your bank account. We will not be able to use anything traceable.”

“Stop touching me.” I say through gritted teeth.

“I must,” replied the male. “I was only decanted nine hours ago and don’t know how to talk yet. I am just glad you will be my mate.”

I realize I never heard his voice, tenor or bass. Fuck, fuck fuck.  My breast swell as he continues to massage my neck. Oh, fuck to infinity.

(Words 987 – originally appearing at Sunday Fun on Breathless Press 3/17/2013 – See the picture that inspired the story! – As I do not know the copyright permissions, I have not copied it here; Republished in new blog format 7/8/2018)

Flash: Yellow Eyes

Erin Penn

Rating: Mature

The yellow eyes burned. Everyone in the room must feel them. Although the creature standing in the hatch had been motionless since the first moment humans found the spaceship, Walter swore he felt the eyes scan everyone in the tour group before settling on him.

*?*

He was in Las Vegas for a convention and decided to catch the freak show. Fifteen years ago a ship landed on some yahoo’s land in Nevada. Of course the government immediately confiscated it, but everyone in the world had seen it come in. Made the Russian meteor the year before look like a flashlight. Rather than face a world war over it, the government decided to go with common law land rights. The yahoo turned around and sold the alien ship to a casino and retired to Florida. Damn lucky yahoo.

*You/I could be so lucky.*

But not in this lifetime, mortgages were just getting harder and harder to sell as the government kept interfering. Like it was the industry’s fault the economy went into a recession for two decades.

Walter let others press by him in their urgency to get closer to the exotic. The outer rooms of the exhibit had plenty of pictures, including a personal favorite of the cock and slit hidden under the pale green short tunic the alien wore. The casino knew their patrons’ interests and got someone to lay on their back for that particular shot. He felt no need to get closer. The yellow eyes burned hot enough from this distance.

*I should move around to not draw attention.*

Must drive the scientists nuts to only have eight hours a day access without the public involved. Walter let his body start moving with the crowd. Still the nerds should be happy the alien was being treated as an international treasure; the casino was even going to send it on a world tour next year.

*The being is very attractive.*

The hair was amazing, caught back in a crystalline band clipped to the nape. Beyond the band the mammalian thin blond hair seemed to become thick reptilian feather-like fur flowing up, down and sideways as though suspended in water. The hair completely blocked the view of everything beyond the hatch with its seething frozen mass. The creature was halted midstep, about to have one of its thick white boots step onto the disembarking ramp. Its nipples pressed against the gauzy tunic fabric, firmly pointed to meet a brave new world.

*I could help free it – her – from the time statis.*

The ship could be moved in its entirety, but nothing changed about its being. No radiation emitted; no dust landed. Walter had never attempted physics in the two semesters before his drunk and flunk succeeded, but something seemed to have fixed the entire structure in the fourth dimension completely according to the outside displays.

*Our science cannot equal an alien from the stars.*

Don’t know why the geeks even try. Walter took one last look at the nipples. He could feel the puckered points rolling around on his tongue.  He felt connected to the frozen yellow-eyed alien; he also traveled and worked hard to end frustrated. Tonight, maybe with a couple of items from the wet bar, he might sit back and dream of the alien and take care of some of that frustration.

*And accept its seed.*

He never been interested in dick before, but the slit was also available. Could be an interesting experience if the girl was mobile. He ran his right hand along the ship on the way out, feeling the tingle some people had reported experiencing. Most reported the eerie feeling of their hands sliding over nothingness. Yeah, he was going to fuck Ms. Hand until the tingle spread over his whole body while thinking about the burning yellow eyes.

(words 638 – originally appearing at Sunday Fun on Breathless Press 3/10/2013 (original photo of unknown copyright), republished in new blog format 6/10/2018)

Flash: The Sleeper

Erin Penn

Image courtesy of stockimages at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Panic. Can’t move. I try to control, to calm myself. This has happened before. Too many times before. Each time I wonder if this time my body isn’t going to wake up.

I have sleep paralysis. There’s a fancier term, but it really doesn’t matter. What matters is my body is asleep when my mind wakes up. Unable to move, unable to open my eyes, unable to talk. First time it happened I was thirteen, Happy Birthday to me. Six hours, an eternity.

Second time I had stayed up late studying. Mom tried to wake me. Shook me, yelled at me to stop faking it. She was so scared. I could hear it in her voice. If I had been able to open my eyes, I would have seen the tears streaming down her face. Tears I got splashed with but didn’t feel. Got to ride in an ambulance. Late in the afternoon, my body woke up after I lived through a battery of tests. The MRI hum makes my teeth rattle every time I remember. Locked in my body, locked in that metal coffin.

Doctors explained it. A sleep disorder like sleep walking, only the opposite. Instead of the body walking around with a sleeping mind, I got a sleeping body and a waking mind.

I’ve only just dropped off. After two years, I know my mind never falls asleep again once it wakes up. Going to be a long night. Fighting the panic. Am I going to sleep forever, trapped?

I wish I could use breathing to control the panic, but my sleeping body is reacting to my nightmare. Adrenaline pushing the heart rate higher, breathing in short, but regular bursts. All I can do is imagine breathing slower, rolling the shoulders back to relax, opening my hands and stretching out the fingers.

Mom has put a baby monitor in my room, for all the good it does. It is not like I am going to cry out in my sleep. But it allows her to sleep so I put up with it. Upside, she allows me to hang with Nat in my room behind a closed door because she can listen in. If we are quiet too long, she shoots a question through the monitor. Kept me from reaching second base so far.

I try to go to sleep on time every night. Yep, I am a fifteen-year-old who obeys a nine pm bedtime religiously. Only way to make certain my body will wake in time for school. Even so about once a month, I “sleep” in and miss the first couple of classes.

I hear my breathing return to normal, my fists unfurl, the lub-dub regularly pushes against my oversized Adam’s apple. Dad’s is buried under his triple chin; he showed me photos when I visited this summer. He grew into it before he got fat, so I have some hope. Nat is threatening to leave hickies on it come turtleneck season; she loves kissing my neck and the deep voice that finally steadied the end of freshman year.

The grief I got last year. Bad enough being a freshman. Braces didn’t help. Orchestra geek too good for marching band. Too uncoordinated for sports, tripping over my feet hence the no marching band. Teacher’s pet in Spanish, English and Math, and transferring to the AP science track the second week should have sealed my fate as wedgie and swirly central. Only having Natalie around, going from pal to girlfriend kept me from being a total loser.

Nat, my savior, my heart, and my torment. We met when mom moved after the divorce. She push me into a mud puddle during recess my first day. I returned by punching her. None of the other boys had tried that, even in elementary school where she ruled the playground. We became best buds after my two days in-school suspension was served. The only black mark on my record.

I decide to visit her. Yeah, I know it will only be in my head, but right now that is all I got. For nearly eight lonely hours of pushing back panic, it is all I got.

I pretend I can feel my hands respond to pushing down on the bed and I sit up. I open my eyes and look around the darken room. Color blooms from my superhero posters, painted by memory. This year’s biology book is open to the genetics section for Friday’s test. My backpack leans against the desk filled with everything else, ready to grab and run tomorrow morning.

I’ve memorized my room so I can do this let’s-pretend game that I can wake and walk around even though I am actually locked in my sleeping body. I look in the mirror and annoyingly my reflection does not look back. For some reason I can’t put myself in it when I do these pretend walks. I look down to make sure I am decent. My favorite jeans and sneakers, but missing a shirt. I pretend grab the T-shirt I discarded before laying down and pull the illusion over my head. The shirt never moved from the back of the chair, but I am now dressed.

Walking through the door, I really wish I could figure out a way to feel like I opened it properly because walking through it is weird and feels like someone pushed soggy corn chips through my chest. I shake once I am through, then turn left and take the stairs two at a time. Mom is watching the news while folding clothes. I stop to watch when the weather comes up to see what will be happening for the weekend game.

I started watching the news with her this year. I figure I am hearing it upstairs since my room is directly over the television. Mom had started the laundry during dinner. Amazing how the mind fills in details. Karen, my younger sister, is studying at the dining room table for some middle school test. Douglas, our older brother, stayed with Dad since he was from Dad’s first marriage. Summer is nice because we can all get together again, though this year was a little tough since Doug had his first job flipping burgers. Be interesting to see how college is treating him. Maybe I will visit him next time.

And there will be a next time. Initially the episodes, as the docs like to call them, were about once a month, but they kept getting closer together. Now they are like every other night. After three nights in a row at Dad’s this summer, I decided to start the pretend walking for my own sanity. Books on tape only go so far.

I go through the front door. This time the soggy corn chips had some crunchy bits. Those hurt, like dry swallowing. Weird. I rest against the front porch pole. Turning around, I try to press through the wall beside the door and that is solid. I press on the door and my hand starts going through. WTF?

Mind games. Things your brain does to you. I’ve been thinking of getting a book or two on lucid dreaming.

I know doors can be gone through and walls can’t. Guess that is what is happening now. Never tried to leave the house before.

I remember in lucid dreaming sometime people can fly. Nat’s house is nearly a mile away. Wonder if I can fly there. I was going to try to pretend bike. I jump in the air like The Impressive, and fall flat on my face. Biking it is.

The nighttime ride went quick, faster than normal. I was able to pick up speed going down Hilltop, but didn’t loose it going up the other side of the ravine. Gravity may rule, but my brain seems willing to break some of the rules. Maybe I can learn how to fly after all.

I lean my pretend bike against the garage and it fades away. Frowning, I go around to the back door which is typically open to allow the night air in, saving on air conditioning. How am I going to get home? Popping through the screen door is easy even though I feel the corn chips on my shoulder where the latch is.

Nat’s parents are watching the late-night news, different channel from Mom. I watch a few seconds as Revenger dukes it out with a new supervillian before The Impressive comes to help. Then the typical public announcement reminding people with superpowers to register with the government. Whatever.

I head down the hall where music is throbbing. Nat will listen to anything that requires head-banging, whether the Black Sabbath’s Iron Man or Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody. If she can crank it to 12 on the 10 scale, she is a happy metalhead. I’ve tried to introduce her to quieter music and discovered that even classic can be headbanging if you crank it enough. She loved the 1812 Overture.

Her door is closed, but only a few soggy corn chips push through me as I walk in. The music takes on physical impact on the other side. She is bopping around in a crop top and boy’s shorts and I slid to the ground.

Yay imagination! No bra, the crop top was one she wore during the summers when I am not around and should no longer be worn in public since the boob fairy, as she put it, visited her this year. Her legs sprouted out of the pink lacy underwear I had only seen in my mom’s catalogs and reached the ground after a very long trip. Her stomach, which I used to give raspberries to in fifth grade was perfect caramel from the bikini I had only got to see her wear once before going to my dad’s. She bounced over to the pile of paper on her bed; I recognized the English assignment. Working last minute again, my Nat. I had that assignment done two days ago.

She turns to go back to the pile on the floor, near the door, and shrieks.

(words 1688; first published 6/8/2015; republished new blog format 4/29/2018)

Flash: The Tower

Erin Penn

Cold mid-December wind stung Priscilla’s cheeks, and froze her chapped lips where she had been licking them. She remained still beside Gregory, holding his hand, waiting for the bus to arrive. Inside she was bouncing and screaming. She didn’t want to put a shadow over their last time together this year, but holding her tongue when every instinct told her to speak was driving her mad. She had been waffling since the morning. At last she could hold her trepidation no longer.

Squeezing his hand tighter, staring at the road, Priscilla begged, “Don’t go.”

Gregory’s brown eyes closed. Thick lashes covered in melting snowflakes. “It’s my family. They expect me home for the holidays.”

“You know what the cards said.” She always ran a Tarot spread before either of them traveled.

Using their joined hands to draw her closer, Gregory engulfed her in a hug. “The Tower is not always a bad card. There are no bad cards, you always tell me that.”

“But this time, … you felt the energy.” She lifted her head to look intently into his face, searching for something. “Don’t pretend you didn’t feel it. Please don’t go mundane on me now.”

His forehead fell against hers. Their breaths puffed fog in the cold air between their nearly joined lips.

*Chaos is fairly normal on Christmas day.* he sent into her thoughts trying to reassure her. Images of past Christmases danced across their shared link.

*It wasn’t life-birth chaos.* The circling maelstrom of worry within her troubled mind would not stop. She sent back the energy vibration they had felt when the card fell into place on the spread, *Crisis –change – disruption – pain*

“It will be okay.” Comfort laced his voice in a way he could not layer in his private, more straightforward thoughts. Her lips were so close his touched hers when he moved his mouth to speak. His right hand, more accurately conveying the fear he felt, knotted in her hair, pressing her head forward. His mouth devoured hers as he sought comfort from and try to give calm to his soul mate.

Tears were streaming down her face when they broke apart. “Please, please, at least let me go with you. You saw, a Queen of Cups could change things. That’s my card. I should go.”

“And lose your job? Miss Solstice with your coven just as you move into primary point?” Threading both hands through her hair to massage the back of her head, he brought their foreheads together. *I will not have the Tower transfer to you.*

Beside them, the bus’ air brakes hissed.

Gregory started untangling his fingers. He had one hand fully free when Priscilla lips pressed together.

“Pl—,” his finger touched her lips.

“Don’t make me deny you a third time my love.”

Ashamed as she was about to require just such an action from him, Priscilla shook her head. “No, of course not.” She swallowed back her anxiety. “Travel well. May the wind be at your back and the sun warm your face.”

“Remain safe. May your garden grow green and your table stay filled.” Gregory gave her one last quick kiss before picking up his backpack and boarding the bus.

(words 537 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 9/22/2013 for the 7/8/12 Sunday Fun –  – The original photo was of unknown copyright so did not put on my site – published on old blog 9/22/2013; republished in new blog format on 12/10/2017)

 

Flash: Cannot Be Unseen

Erin Penn

Photo by Jiří Wagner on Unsplash

Kai stumbled after Aubrey into the Ferry house out of the January weather. The difference between outdoors and indoors felt nearly physical; the old man had upped the protections on his home since his wife gave birth. Even a welcomed friend like himself needed to beware entering uninvited. Kai shuttered to think what would happen if he violated guest rights.  The old man was a first rate wizard.

Today continued the lessons on friction. For third weekend in a row, Kai spent Saturday in the empty ice rink. Kai was certain avoidance spells were possible, though he had only been a student since Thanksgiving when Aubrey had taken him on. But Kai did not think the spell was used to empty the place; after all, who would spend time in an ice rink in January?

He expected that his mentor would be teaching combustion in the middle of July. The old man was quirky that way … or mean, depending on how one interpreted his actions. Today Kai was leaning toward downright malicious. He was sore from the heavy skates on his feet, sore on his butt from falling, sore in his head from trying to grasp the lessons on how to increase and decrease friction, and frozen throughout.

It didn’t help Aubrey was none the worse for wear after nearly twelve hours of torturing him. Yes, Aubrey looked Kai’s age, with stark black hair and solid muscles like he worked side-by-side with Kai landscaping instead of whatever he did as his day job. But Kai knew that Aubrey had to have pushed himself in the rink today, if only to control Kai’s mistakes. Why couldn’t the old man be a little tired?

Struggling to lift his arms to get out of his jacket, Kai watched as Aubrey raced into the living room where his wife was nursing and someone he had never seen before was standing.

“When did you get in child?” Aubrey asked joyfully as he scooped up a stunning redhead and spun her around. “How did you get away?”  A concerned look crossed his mentor’s face as he slid the girl down his body onto the carpet. “And who did you leave in charge?”

The young woman laughed at his exuberance and replied in an Irish lilt.  “I’ve only been here a few minutes. Mom was just introducing me to the young one. And don’t worry, I’ve left the Trio temporarily in charge. They should be able to keep the peace … among themselves … for a few days.”

Kai watched his mentor look the girl up and down … his daughter? Same strawberry hair and clear white skin, enhanced by a spattering of freckles, as Aubrey’s wife Colleen.  The girl was only a couple inches shorter than Aubrey’s five ten. The girl appeared to be a college freshman, an angelic freshman. Her wispy hair desperately escaping a crown braid creating a halo effect backlit from the kitchen. Her off-the-shoulder white dress had lace insets in all the right places. Less bosom-heavy than the earthy Irish beauty of Colleen, Kai was able to see the girl had inherited Colleen’s coloring and Aubrey’s strong lean frame.

He couldn’t not Look. But Kai did try to talk himself out of it. What is Seen cannot be Unseen. That was the first lesson. Aubrey had found Kai in the middle of his first Seeing; a horrific experience brought on by stupidly trying to fit in at work and joining the guys on a marijuana break. The next month was spent bringing his natural gift under control; the following month has been spent learning friction.

As he hung up his jacket, the nineteen year old closed his eyes and opened his inner one. Turning back to where the conversation was continuing between the old man, his wife and his daughter, Kai slowly opened his eyes and tried to focus only on the girl. He didn’t need to see Aubrey stripped of all the natural assumptions people make so is life more palatable EVER again; that scary shit was firmly cemented into Kai brain for the rest of his life. Kai also had no interest in finding out what could hold its own in marriage to the millennium old magician. He tried to use his recent lessons on focus to look only at the newcomer.

The girl’s hair loosed from its braid to cascade down her back in a riot of curls, a far-deeper red than Colleen’s strawberry. Like staring into the heart of a furnace with blue-white flames dancing out of red-black coals. He could feel the heat sear into his eyes. The crown braid formed into a silver diadem, elegantly wrought like a small ivy branch freshly plucked and turned into ice.

The woman spun as he continued to stare. Her blue eyes were like the blue of volcano lakes, promising the same ice and heat, the same serenity and danger of those isolated paradises. She said something as she stalked towards him, but Kai was focused on Seeing, not hearing. Her fingers stretched into inhuman lengths as they curled around his throat. Her skin was the color of winter ice and summer clouds, the dress falling away into illusion.

Her red lips plumped from unkind hope, curled with merciful despair and he could not resist even has her claws drew blood from his neck. Keeping his green eyes on hers he leaned forward to kiss his life and death. Her eyes spoke her name to his soul, both use and true, as his lips touched hers. Closing his eyes to keep the vision with him for the rest of his meager life he deepened the kiss. He felt her breath escape in surprise and the choking grip lessen.

Unthinking, he turned off his gift that usually took him hours to put back in the box and grabbed the curtain of fire with both hands pulling her naked body against his starving one. His tongue warred for dominance with hers.

(words 1,000 – – originally appearing at Sunday Fun on Breathless Press 1/13/2013 – The original photo was from  Sarah Ann Loreth who retains copyright on her photos, with written permission to reuse. I did not asked for said permission. Published on the first blog on 1/13/2013; republished new blog format 7/9/2017)