Rhiannon (Short)

  • 'From a tender age, I knew I was loved. I could feel it. They would murmur it with funny or soft emotional faces every day, until I grew to obtain the knowledge of words. Then they would tell me.   
       'From an early age, I felt I was different. Every child experiences it, but I didn't exactly feel like it was within the ways or experiences inwhich I did.

    'Steven Warner was an okay kid. We often would share juice boxes by the blue slide during recess. No big deal, but we were friends. Until one day, I felt like I saw him for who he really was, or rather, who he would turn out to be. And it was a shame, because only at the age of eight did my Unbeknownst take control for the first time, and decide to pass judgement.
    'That day, we were sitting beneath the chestnutt tree, which usually had some other flock of much cooler kids hanging around it, but for whatever reason that day, there wasn't. Pogs were popular then, don't judge me- and we decided to compare, as most children would with toys and trinkets.
    'Steven emptied his pockets. Sloppy. I kept mine in a blue velvet satchel. He messied his hands about once I had emptied my own collection. I always hated when he did that; trying to quickly steal any newly saught at designs he liked.  
        "Ooo~ I like this one!" Straight for my favourite, never was I completely sure if it ever even was a play
    pog. Mother always had said great Grandmother owned it before. So God knows what it could have been.
      "No! Not that one, Steven! You always do this!" I grabbed him by the wrist and shoved, but of course,
    being the spoiled boy he was known to always be, he came back twice as irritating. Clamoring his hands around like he trying to wash something away as he now giggled and proded.
      "No Steven! Stop!" "I'm not doing anything!" He taunted me, making direct eye contact, he then proceeded to grab me, but not nearly as delicately as I had handled.
    'I remember feeling helpless and not in control because he was a lot stronger than me. And as he made contact with me, accompanied by that feeling of distress came a flash of piercing white light and noise, I disappeared, or so I felt, when at the probable worst I had fainted.
    'Still to this very day I don't think I quite understand just to what extent, happened, but what I do
    know, is that within my time of 'disappearance' and 'white light', my life was at a very near disposition.

    'After the incident, no one appeared upset, directly toward me at least. Everyone said it was an intense
    seizure, followed by an overbearing series of heart palpitations, further to try and coddle me with the idea that my 'best friends' death was no where near my fault, and that I shouldn't blame myself in the least. Steven was known for seizures and a heart murmur, but inside, I felt that wasn't exactly what took him. It was what I saw in wonders, and how I ended it.
    'It all happened so fast-and I remember feeling clogged and pained around the throat, my body felt so heavy and battled, the grip Steven had had triggered this messed up inner experience somewhow, and for whatever reason, I couldnt break out, until I felt almost a bloated force of energy rush from my limbs into his, and somehow disintagrate. Steven's body remained untouched or scarred, aside from obvious death, which still makes no sense to me. Who ever I destroyed in that vision, reflected a result just as real and awful in actual reality. Whatever happened, I couldnt control, but I oddly felt every single emotional string attached. I had to do it. I never understood why, but something inside made it so.