Not Your Regular Kind of Talents

 

Chapter One

 

I should probably start off by telling you who I am. What I am, to be more exact. Now, don’t go jumping to conclusions when I say “what” instead of “whom”. I mean, I am a human being. I’m not some extra-terrestrial or something. So when I say “what I am” I mean to tell you what I do. Get my secrets out of the way before we start to get into the real interesting stuff.

To start with, I’m what is called a Talent Trainer. And okay, I know it sounds completely lame, but you have no idea what it is, so just hold on a minute. Let me explain.

A Talent Trainer is someone who, um, trains talents. Pretty self-explanatory, except for now you’re probably asking yourself “What is a talent?” Because, let me tell you, you have no idea.

So, you want to know what a Talent is. Fine, fine. You’ve pried it right out of me.

A talent is somebody that has a special talent. Don’t laugh, I’m serious. They’re not your regular kind of talents either, so just hold onto the laughter for a few more minutes.

The Talents that I train are not your usual “I can sing really well” kind of people. My Talents are more the “I can move objects with my mind really well” kind of people. Yes, I’m talking about powers. But how lame does “superpowers” sound? It’s just so déclassé.

So, we call them Talents. And—by definition—I am their trainer. Of course, Talents are all around the world and naturally I can’t be the only one doing the training. So, on my sixteenth birthday I was assigned a “group”. The Talents that I train are all from ages 15 to 20, from everywhere you can think of. I had this one Talent, Jeremiah, who was from Scotland. He was my second assigned Talent, and let me tell you, he was extraordinary. Jeremiah showed up at my training center (for lack of a better word), smiled a toothy grin, and asked me with his strong Scottish accent if I would please help him.

Obviously, since he was my assignment, I wasn’t going to say no. So, I smiled warily back at him (hey, I was still new to the whole Trainer thing), and welcomed Jeremiah into my training center. Twenty minutes later, Jeremiah had me pinned on the ground while standing on the other side of the room. How, you ask? I asked the same thing.

“How did you do that?” I asked him, completely defenseless, lying on the ground. If anyone had seen me, laying on my back on the cold wood floor, my hands pinned above my head, my feet and body glued to the floor although nobody and nothing was anywhere near me.

“I really don’t know. I just thoughtto myself that I wished you’d be completely defenseless, and there you are, on the ground.” Jeremiah paused. “You can’t move, can you?” I shook my head and he frowned. ‘I don’t understand!” He said angrily. “What is wrong with me?”

I tried to get up, but it felt like I was stapled to the floor. I couldn’t wiggle a toe if I had wanted to. “I’d like to answer that question if you’d let me up.” I said, trying still unsuccessfully to rise off the floor.

Jeremiah looked at me with panic in his fifteen-year-old blue eyes. “I don’t know how to do that!” He said, panicky. I sighed. My second assignment was so far a complete disaster. My first assignment, an 18-year-old cheerleader who could charm people (literally) with no effort, had gone so much smoother.

“Okay, well. Let’s start with a something simple.” I strained my eyes to see where Jeremiah went, but then discovered he was hovering over me, looking scared. The cheerleader certainly hadn’t been scared. “Say to yourself, I wish Skye would get off the dirty floor. Okay?” I asked. Jeremiah nodded. He closed his eyes and mumbled something quietly and next thing I knew I was standing in front of him, like nothing had ever happened. My brow furrowed in confusion.

“Okay, now say to yourself that you wish for a McDonald’s Happy Meal.” I said, testing him, and at the same time hoping that he would actually be able to do what I thought he could do. I was really starving.

Again, Jeremiah closed his eyes and mumbled something. I glanced around the room uncomfortably. Without warning, Jeremiah’s eyes popped open and a signature McDonald’s bag sat in front of me, steaming. My stomach grumbled and I bent to pick it up, but Jeremiah snatched it from me. I groaned.

“Oh, come on! Who do you think has been doing all the hard work here?” I said to him, and before he could answer, I grabbed the bag from him. “Now,” I said, popping a fry into my mouth. “I’m going to tell you something, but don’t freak out, okay?” He nodded. I continued.  “You’re what we call a Wishful Thinker. And not in your typical sense, so don’t confuse yourself.” I paused.  “You, dear Jeremiah, have the gift of being able to think up any crazy thought and have it come true.” Jeremiah started to say something but I cut him off. “There really is no downfall to your talent. It’s so incredible though, we’ve never met a Wisher.” I paused again and stared at him. “You’re a Half-Talent?” I asked him softly. That part, for most, was the “downfall” of being a Talent.

You see, there are two types of Talents. There’s the Half-Talent and then there’s the Full-Talent. The Half-Talent discovers his or her talent sometime after their tenth birthday. They could be eleven when they find their talent, or they could be twenty three. It’s great to be a Half-Talent; it’s basically the best thing that can happen to most Talent’s lives. The downfall is that their talent, whatever it is, disappears on their thirty fifth birthday. You can see why that may piss Half-Talents on. I mean, it’s like winning the lotto ticket and having them tell you “you only get to keep the money until your thirty, then you have to pay it all back.” It doesn’t seem fair to the Half-Talents, but I mean, really. They get to control things with their minds, blow up things whenever they clap, turn water into Kool-Aid for up to twenty years. You can’t tell me that doesn’t rock. I mean, to have any talent whatsoever for whatever length of time is pretty kick a*s, if you ask me.

But of course, the Half-Talents, greedy as they usually are, very rarely see it that way. But whatever, it’s not like whining is going to get them to keep their talent longer.

Anyways. The Half-Talent is the most common, and basically the only type of Talent there is. We’ve never met somebody, besides me and the rest of the Trainers (and of course The Company), who was a Full-Talent.

So, you basically know everything there is to know about Half-Talents. But Full-Talents are the really lucky ones. At birth, a Full-Talent is born with their talent. And when they die, a Full-Talent dies with their talent. And, as a plus, Full-Talents are usually the ones with the most powerful gifts. Take Marcus for example. Marcus is another Talent Trainer, whose age group to train is 20-24 year olds. Marcus has telekinesis, which okay, is so cool. No matter who you are, you have to admit that that talent is amazing. I mean, Marcus shuts doors without lifting a finger, and he can fight people without even standing up.

That might have something to do with why Half-Talents are usually afraid or jealous of Full-Talents. Although, it’s usually because we have a lifetime to perfect our abilities, whereas they can have as little as a year, depending on when they find their talent.

Now, all this talent talk is hurting my head. Besides, it is way past my bedtime and I need to get some shut eye so I don’t look like I have a hangover tomorrow in school.

 

I walk up to the front door of my house and peer at my cell phone, checking the time. I grimace. Two p.m. on a school night. Mom is so going to be pissed. I crack the door open and our alarm system goes berserk. I sprint over to the nearest wall and type in the password, silencing the alarm. I try my best to creep up the stairs without making any noise, but as soon as I step on the first stair I hear a huge creeeeeeak. The lights in the kitchen tap on, and I see my sleepy mother illuminated by the light. She’s standing with a cup of coffee, hair rumpled, robe haphazardly tied. She does not look happy.

“Oh, hey mom!” I say, trying to cheer her up. No go.

She stares at me and raises her eyebrows. “Where have you been?” She asks me icily.

I bite my lip. “Nowhere?” I try. She’s obviously not going to loose the temper any time soon.

“Skye, we’ve talked about this. Curfew is ten o’clock on school nights. It’s two.” She pauses and glares at me. “You’re grounded until further notice. You will not be going anywhere after school, besides home. You’ll be straight to school and straight home. Do you understand?” She snaps. I sigh. Don’t make me do this mom. I think to myself.

You see, this whole thing isn’t going to work. The whole straight to school straight home thing, I mean. Because I have, as of today, a new assignment. Chase something or other. And tomorrow is our first meeting. So, needless to say, I can not be grounded right now.

Sighing, I look at my mom. I close my eyes and when I open them their usual emerald green has turned into silver. My mom stares at me, as if in a trance.

“Mom,” I say, and my voice is smooth and hypnotizing. “You’re not really going to ground me, are you? I have a new assignment tomorrow, you see.”

My mother’s eyes are wide now, but she nods.

“An assignment?” She asks, and I nod. “Well, why didn’t you say you have school work? I don’t really need to ground you then…” she pauses and shakes her head. “But you broke curfew. You should be grounded.”

I sigh again, and my silver eyes flicker, pulling the level of entrancement a bit higher.

“But you don’t really want to ground me.” I say, gently persuading her. My mother nods in agreement with me, eyes still wide and staring at me.

“No, of course I don’t. I guess I can give you a break just this once.” She mumbles, still staring at the silver of my eyes. I nod, encouraging her. “Okay than, sweetie. Off to bed.” And with that, I blink, letting the silver disappear from my eyes. I glance backward at my mom as I head up the stairs.

I feel truly awful for doing that to her. I always swore I would never do that to her or anyone else in my family.

As I get ready for bed, I imagine what my new assignment will be like. I wonder what kind of Half-Talent gift he’ll have. It’s always so much fun to train them. When I get into my bed, I turn off my lamp, and am consumed by darkness.

And now, you’ve probably already figured out what my talent is. I’m a Full-Talent, after all. It’s got to be something big.

And it is. It’s a really big talent. The gift of persuasion is what I have; but I’m called a Persuader most often. The Company—the Full-Talent people that find and monitor Talents around the world—says they have never discovered anyone with my Talent in quite some time. Not since a dude named Billy Scheckler, at least.

I close my eyes. I really do wonder what this new assignment will be like. I have a feeling he’s going to give me a lot of grief.

Reviews

[Just A Girl]

By the first chapter, I was in love :)

But I must say...
"A Talent Trainer is someone who, um, trains talents." You shouldn't use 'um' in prose. Not unless the person is speaking. Perhaps rephrase that into something like... "A Talent Trainer is someone who, surprise-surprise, trains talents."

"I walk up to the front door of my house and peer at my cell phone, checking the time. I grimace. Two p.m. on a school night." Just guessing that it's supposed to be 'Two a.m." ;) Sorry. Correction w***e here :)

I really do like how this character is shown. Or how YOU portray her into the writing.
She's quite cute and quirky.

Have i mentioned that... I love your story? :)

[Jane Doe]

I love it
but i have a question
is this fiction ? or do u truelly have powers
or are u just a heroes freak like me hehe ????