Journey to Acceptance

An inside look at the internal struggle of the gifted

Night’s velvet sheet darkened the sleeping suburbs. While the clock said it was morning, to the rest of the world it was night.

A single person cast shadows down the sidewalk. There was a heavy load she carried, one other than the backpack strapped to her shoulders. Without the crickets chirping, the night was quietly wrapped around her echoing footsteps. A walk such as this would make most people nervous; however, it was her daily journey to the bus stop. She walked each morning, with her head low and hair over her eyes, down the street. There was no need for her to see; she knew the road well.

It was easy to hear even the slightest sound. Any sound that broke the night-morning’s silence found her eyes darting to it, just in case. It would be so easy for anyone to take her, too hurt her, that’s what they would think at least. Poor ignorant fools, they wouldn’t know her secret nor the power she possesses. She never worried on her daily treks because, to be honest, she didn’t need to worry.

It was a Monday morning, nothing looked different that morning than any other morning, but within minutes her blood ceased to pulse, instead it raced steadily though her: the first of many symptoms that something was wrong. The entire walk her eyes stayed lifted; each step was made deliberate and silent. She was nearly at the bus stop but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was behind her. If she were to turn around it could completely give her away. Instead she turned her eyes to the back of her mind where she could faintly see a fuzzy image of a car not far down the street. She looked down at the pavement. On the ground her only shadow was the one from the moon, if there was a car its lights were off. It didn’t want to be seen.

 She slipped her hand into her front pocket and pulled out a pencil.

“If there is anyone back there,” she began to calculate, “I shouldn’t stop to check it out”

She let the pencil fall through her fingers to the ground; it was the perfect cover for her to get a clearer look. As she bent down to pick it up she placed her hand flat to the sidewalk.

“This way I can see them better,” she continued.

By touching the ground directly (without ‘looking’ through her shoes) she could pick up on the earth’s vibrations much more clearly. Upon contact with the pavement, the image at the back of her mind immediately cleared into a small car forty feet down the road under the large Norway maple tree. She then closed her eyes to listen; the car was running. Her first instinct was to run, but to start a chase so soon would not be wise. Without knowing what she was up against she could either get away easy, or not at all. Unfortunately, she also couldn’t quite hide her curiosity about her pursuer’s identity.

            There was just one problem with using vibrations for sight; anything flat, writing or color, is invisible. There was no doubt in her mind that a car has been following her, but the certainty stopped there. She couldn’t tell the model of the car, what color it was, she had a faint idea that there were two people in the car, but really, she was blind to anything that could be of use in a police report.

Without seeing who was in the car, it would be impossible to tell if they were the standard kidnapper/rapist type or something more… sophisticated.

When she continued walking, the car continued following to the end of the road where she would need to cross. With it being so early there was typically no cars anywhere, so she would dart across the street without looking. Surely, to them it would appear as nothing more than a childhood habit.

While in reality it would be her trying to sneak a peek at them over her shoulder.

She stopped, teetering on the edge of the curb, it would be only moments between her dash across the street and exposing herself in the cone of light beneath the street lamp. In those moments she would have to capture the image of who is following her, process it, and make her decision on what to do next.

During school, most days at least, she could trick herself into believing she didn’t see the colorful wrappings curled around every person, thing and plant. Even under pressure she tried, but she couldn’t choke back the powerful image of the human aura. It was already creeping in on her; she blinked her eyes trying to force the images away. Whenever this happened she ultimately felt ashamed of herself. It wasn’t in her nature to use her… gifts… for her own gain. She became ashamed that she couldn’t control herself enough

A stiff putter from the hiding car and a deep breath brought her back to her situation. Her best chance was to take an auric picture of the car’s occupants. She would have to forgive herself later.

Author's Note

Started. But incomplete for now.