Created By

nickjonson

Rate this Story

Embed

After regaining myself, I took a look around. Where was I. I reached around, but I found that I was contained in some sort of tiny cellar. I could see no walls, it was just a black void. I raged from one invisible wall to another. Suddenly, I heard my name being called. Suddenly, there was a bright, white, light. I woke up and shot upright. I looked around, Trisha was there next to me. "Where am I?" I asked, looking around, quite dazed. "You're in the hospital," she replied. "The police found you a few blocks down from your house and chased off a group of people in white robes." So I hadn't been dreaming. It really happened. "Then, my dad..." I whispered. Trisha looked down sadly, "I'm really sorry, Kyle," she said, "They found your father dead, impaled on a sword onto a wall." I groaned and covered my face. I may have hated my dad, but he was still my father. "Who were those guys in white?" I asked myself. Trisha shrugged, "I'm sorry, I wish I knew.." I looked out the window and sighed. Everything was changing too much too fast. Suddenly, I felt a warm touch on my cold hand. I looked down, and saw that Trisha was holding my hand. I smiled gently and wrapped my finger's around her hand.

For the next few months, everything was quiet. Trisha and I were together and happy. One night, we were sitting in the park, looking out into the lake. Trisha leaned her head against my shoulder and I put my arm around her. "You know, Kyle," she said softly, "I feel like the two of us are perfect for each other. I feel like I can tell you anything." I smiled, and looked at my feet. There was something I had to get off my chest. "Can I tell you anything, Trisha? No matter what it is?" I asked her. She looked into my eyes and nodded. I sighed, "OK," I began, "This is going to sound bizarre, but....OK, there's no better way to say it...a few months ago, I found out that whatever I pictured or whatever I wrote would come true." She looked at me, confused. "OK, for instance, if I wrote like a short story where I could fly, I can fly in real life. And if I close my eyes and concentrate on something I want, it happens. Like, if I want to go somewhere, I just close my eyes and picture the place. When I open my eyes, I'm there." Trisha's mouth hung wide open. "I..." she stammered, "I have to go, Kyle." She got up and ran away. I sighed, closed my eyes, and sent myself home.

Trisha pounded on Reverend James' door. The Reverend opened, looking quite shocked, "What is it, my girl?" he asked. "Reverend," Trisha gasped, tears flowing from her cheeks, "The Scribe...he...he....he's Kyle."