Reed B Tantum

I was playing an RP game with my son and his friends about mutants. I had to make up a charactor. This is the back story of this charactor, It is a work in process...

When Reed was ten years old he found himself lost in a small, but scary, plot of woods just outside the town of Jamison. He had not intended to lose himself, as some troubled youths do, yet there he was; lost. His foster parents were most likely not looking for him yet as he would frequently go off on his own for the better part of a day. Now though, it was dark. Good thing he remembered to bring his overcoat, removing it from his backpack and putting it on, at least he wouldn’t get too cold. He was more worried about not being able to see. Though the moon was full and bright the wispy autumn clouds filtered out quite a bit of the light. He had been making his way back towards town, he hoped, and had to traverse a hillside littered with loose rocks of various sizes. Normally he was pretty good at this but with it being dark it was more difficult. He continued down the hill as carefully as he could, watching the small rocks around his steps rolling down the hill. Then he slipped. As he tumbled down the hill he dislodged rocks and debris that raced him to the bottom. He knew he had reached the bottom when he stopped suddenly with a hard thud against an outcropping of rock, followed directly by a loud CRACK.

“AAAHH!” he screamed. Apparently one of those loosened rocks had followed him down the hill and had just smashed into his left hand. He could feel his hand but could not move it. It throbbed. He tugged on it trying to work it free to no avail. He then tried moving the rock instead of his hand. He tried using nearby sticks of various sizes He was stuck. The throbbing was turning into pain now, Stuck, in pain and worse, he now had to await ‘rescue’ from Marge & Harold, when they finally decided he was worth finding. Would he survive that long? Would they even care? If his hand were bleeding he may die waiting. As he sat pondering his fate and what form the punishment would take if he were ‘rescued’ he remembered a time he was able to move pebbles and marbles using his mind. He remembered the penny he moved across his desk at school. He also remembered catching Lucy staring at him like he was a ghost. He had never tried anything of this size. This rock was half his size and probably weighed many times as him. Not knowing exactly where his hand was, it had gone numb, he figured he would do more damage if he tried to slide the rock. He thought about the marbles and oranges he would pick up from across the room, scaring Marge to death. Ah, fun times. That would do the trick. He would have to lift it straight up. He concentrated as hard as he could and nothing happened. The rock did not move at all. Not even a smidge. He tried again and again until he was physically and mentally tired, with no results.

Was it getting colder or was he? He heard rustling in the woods that surrounded him. He then saw some brush move. He had not heard anyone calling for him or any other voices. NOW; he was really getting scared. He also noticed that his hand now was feeling moist. This would mean he WAS bleeding. Though HE could not smell the blood he knew that some of the animals in these woods would. Coyotes, bears, wolves or big cats were all reported to be around Jamison. He started to tug again foregoing moving the rock with his mind. Keeping watch on the tree line he could now see two eyes reflecting in a swath of moonlight just inside the tree line. He heard another noise from the other side of the open area he was more or less in the middle of. He was now in big trouble. Animals had gotten the scent of his bleeding hand. He needed to get free. He tugged much harder and envisioned his hand being free of the rock. As the tugging and the visualization became one he felt his hand start to tingle and he fell backwards onto a pile of small stones and sticks. He looked at his hand and found that it was not bleeding, bruised or even swollen. He didn’t understand it but could not take the time to figure it out because his sudden movement had animals out. There were now two wolves running at him from two different directions.

They were still quite a ways of the hill but not far enough for him to out run them. Reed stood up in the pile of twigs and rocks and concentrated on one of the smaller rocks. To his delight it rose into the air. He focused on the closer of the two wolves and envisioned the rock hitting it in the eye. The rock soared off in the direction of its target and hit the bounding wolf right in the left eye causing it to stop with a loud whimper and retreat back in to the tree line.

The second wolf was now much closer. Reed tried to concentrate on a rock but found he could not. The wolf was too close. With a final push it was leaping at Reed with jaws open. He was caught. He stood watching as the wolf came closer as if in slow motion. He closed his eyes, preparing for the bite. No sense in yelling out or trying to fight. It would be faster if he let it happen. Then he realized his entire body was tingling. He heard the snap of those strong jaws but felt nothing. He opened his eyes and to his joy he was outside Marge and Harold’s baby blue house. The home would be warm and welcoming even if the people inside would not be. He would be glad to see them anyway. He did not know how he did whatever brought him here or if it was just a survival instinct. He was just glad it had happened and he was alive.

Over the next 12 years Reed developed his telekinesis, tele-reforming (as he called it) and teleportation skills. Marge and Harold figured he just grew out of ‘those silly tricks’ and moved on. He spent every free moment working on these skills until they were second nature. Not like breathing though. Breathing is involuntary. He though it was more like doing math. When you need it you do it but it required his intervention. He could now move items many times his weight, tele-reform any portion of his body to a different position and had teleported many thousands of miles.

He had done well in school and went to college, though he did have to work his way through. He had worked his way up to assistant librarian at his branch. It was a quiet job and he could practice his skills without the fear of being noticed. He had never used his skills in public. In fact he made it a point not to.

Until…

Reviews

[roarke]

dang, sounds like a tight spot.

Inspiration for a story can come from any and every source. This RPG back story was good motivation to sketch out a character and event.

You write fresh stuff. Don't discard anything, keep this one around.