I hear with my eyes more than my ears. When I look at someone, it’s like there soul spills out through their eyes, and their life story is displayed in the mixture of colors that pigments the iris. I always found it weird how I can hear through the mere sight of someone’s movements or the shakiness in their breathe. I found it weird how I could tell someone’s mood by just looking at their face and not the words, but the tone of their voice. I never thought much of it, and when I did, I pushed it down where no one could find it. It made me feel different, unique, but not in a good way. It made me feel like I didn’t belong, so I locked it up within the boundaries of my mind. One day, one odd day, it escaped. I looked at a girl, and saw her eyes filled with tears, threatening to spill. Her nose was twitching, leg was bouncing, shaking back and forth. Oddly enough I decided to walk over to her. I don’t know why, but I did. “Are you okay?” She looked at me and it’s as if that question alone broke the flood gates that was holding her tears back broke. I sat down next to her, not knowing what to do. I never interfered when I thought someone was upset, I never asked if they were okay expecting them to actually admit defeat. I thought to myself and how my mother would hold me tight until my tears dried in the fabric of her shirt, and I asked, “Do you need a hug?” When she looks at me this time, her eyes filled with tears, but also with longing. With a longing of love and affection she so desperately needed. I hugged her. I hugged her, and I didn’t let go until she was ready. I didn’t realize how much I helped her until I saw her again, crumpling up letter after letter and throwing them out. I never knew what they were for, but they held a weight that she was relieved to let go of. She crumpled them all up, all but one. That one letter was different. It felt safe, kind, loving. She handed it to me. When I opened it, all it read was “Thank you. You saved me when I thought no one could.” The thing that people point out most about me now is how I can read their emotions like the back of my hand without them saying a word. They say it’s a “gift.” Yeah, where I’m from, it is indeed unique for someone to be capable to do such thing, but not a bad unique. A unique that helped people when they wouldn’t or couldn’t speak out for themselves. A unique that turned tears into a story simply by watching them fall from another’s cheek. It was a gift I had that saved that girls life. If I never let my gift shine, she wouldn’t be here. She wouldn’t be in a job she loves, with two great kids and a loving spouse. She reminds me every day how lucky she was to have fallen apon this gift of mine, and she tells her kids about it too. She tells them how their father can read stories without the presence of words, and how he was the reason that they had the loving mother and father they needed. The loving mother and father my wife didn’t have. My gift may not be something out of this world, but it kept the ones I loved most in it, and that’s all that matters.

“Well I can do a back handsprint double tuck!”

“I can draw a perfect circle!”

“I have double jointed elbows!”

“I can draw perfect eye liner.”

“I make people question their sexuality.”

….

“WTF?!”

”I made a straight girl think she was bi and a trans gay guy think he was bi.”

😃👍🏻

“Girl, you would rather study then come hangout with everyone else in our sorority?,” Grace Stanfill asked over the phone.

“Maya, you really need to have fun sometimes!,” Lila McConnell added.

“Guys, I’m sorry, but I really need to study,” Maya Thompson said apologetically. “Maybe next time.” Maya heard her other friend Nora Lewis scoff.

“It’s always next time,” Nora muttered. “But whatever. Have fun studying Maya.” And with that, the girls hung up. Maya exhaled, set her phone down on the table, then stood up.

As Maya walked over to the nearest book shelf, she heard a scream. She turned around to see a boy with teal hair lying on the ground with a leather book sitting in front of him.

“Oh my god, are you okay?,” Maya asked with concern, helping him to his feet. The blue hair boy rubbed the back of head.

“I mean, I’ve been better, but yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered. Then the boy met Maya’s dull brown eyes. “Thank you.” Maya blushed, then looked again.

“Your welcome, umm…what’s your name?”

“Carter Stanford,” he said with a smile.

“Nice to meet you Carter,” Maya replied. “I’m Maya Thompson.”

“Pleased to meet you Maya Thompson,” Carter said with a bow. Maya laughed a little. She hadn’t laughed since entering college, so it felt quite refreshing.

“Well, I need to…go, uhh, read now, so, I’ll see you later Maya,” Carter muttered nervously.

“Okay...” Before Maya could finish, Carter picked up his book and walked off.

“Bye.” Maya pressed her lips together, then walked over to the book shelf. About a minute of scrolling through the multitude of books, a crash come from the other side of the book shelf. Maya rushed around the corner of the shelf to see Carter standing back to back with the shelf. In front of him was a man around the age of 30 with shaggy blonde hair aiming a gun straight at him.

“Give me the book, boy,” the man growled.

“Girl,” Carter corrected. “If your gonna kill me, at least get my pronouns right.” The man pressed his lips together.

“Just give me the book,” he hissed. “You don’t know what kind of magic your dealing with.” Slowly, Maya backed up a little bit, accidentally knocking a book of the shelf.

After a few seconds, the man’s voice called out “Who’s there?” Maya froze.

“Who’s there?,” the man called again. This time, Maya slowly peaked out from behind the book shelf. Once she was full shown, the man’s eyes widened.

“The book and an ancient one,” he muttered, his gun still aimed at Carter. “This is my lucky day, for sure.”

“What do you mean by ancient one?,” Maya asked nervously.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” he growled. “You know what I’m talking about.” Maya shook her head.

“I’m sorry, but I really don’t,” Maya insisted. The man rolled his eyes.

“Nevermind,” he murmured. “You.” He pointed at Carter. “Give me the book.”

“In your dreams,” Carter snapped. The man shrugged.

“Hard way it is,” the man replied. Then his gun went off. Suddenly, everything around Maya went black except for the bullet and Carter. In a split second, a blue fire surrounded Carter, stopping the bullet’s entry.

“What the-,” Maya gasped. At her words, the fire receded. When Maya’s regular sight returned, the man and Carter were both gawking at her.

“I knew that you knew about your power,” the man said with an evil smile. Then the man charged at Maya. Quickly, Maya rolled out of his way towards Carter. When Maya stumbled back up to her feet, Carter grabbed her shirt’s collar.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that we need to leave,” Carter whispered.

“I am 100% on board with that,” Maya replied. And with that, the two sprinted towards the library’s exit.

As my S/O challenged me to an art competition, I knew I wasn’t going to win. They’ve been into art since they were a kid. I haven’t lifted a paintbrush for decades. But as my pencil slowly glided across the paper, I knew what I had to do. All I had to do was imagine it in my mind, look at it, and copy every single detail. I didn’t know anything about color theory, but I hoped it’d still be good enough for them to say they’re proud of me. I was fired recently, my friends left me, and I’ve barely left my room for the past month. I’ve been really disappointed in myself, trying to pep talk myself into getting out of bed each morning. Maybe this drawing will somehow help me get my life together. Once I finished the lines, I felt kinda proud of myself. It had pretty good detail, though not even close to perfect. I dip my paintbrush in the jar of water and glance at my S/O. They’re really good. The light reflects off the window in the painting perfectly, leaving it insanely realistic. I finished the base colors, and moved on to the details. I painted the light reflecting in the window and the hare outside. Once I finished, my S/O kissed me on the cheek and said, “Great job, my love” making my heart flutter ever so slightly. We talk for a bit, watch a movie, and go to bed. But I can’t sleep. I do some research on art and try one more time. It looks pretty good, a bit better than the last one, though the improvements aren’t incredibly visible, they’ll piece together and make it a masterpiece. Someday. I’ll be able to be an artist, and finally get my life together.

“I have a hidden talent!”

“Really!?!”

“Yep!”

“Well what is it?”

“Guess!”

“I dunno! Gimme a clue!”

“Ok, I’m doing it now”

“What! Breathing? Standing?”

“Nope”

“Just tell me!”

“Ok! Ok! My hidden talent is to tell jokes!”

“What!”

“Yep this is all a joke!”

“What!”

“Just like your life!”

“Bobby!”

“Come on! That was good though wasn’t it!”

“Kind of.”

“Really!?!”

“Ok! It was a really good joke!”

“Knew it!”

(Read “Now You See Me…” before this)

My night was going so well until I met her, the girl with the leather jacket and red hair. It was a total accident. I wasn’t even supposed to be in that park. I was supposed to be at home, doing my homework and reminiscing about my amazing date with Connor, which had ended with the most amazing kiss I have ever gotten in my life ( it was the only one of course, but I digress). I remember being in my room after our date, after that amazing kiss, twirling and dancing, just feeling absolutely amazing. I remembered the park where it happened, the swings, the benches, that big oak tree. I wished I could be there again kissing him. I fell back onto my bed and felt the dewy grass instead. I rolled onto my stomach and my eyes widened. I was back at the park. How had I done that? One minute I was in my room, the next I was in the park. How? I knew the answer already but I didn’t want to believe it. I stood up and a brushed off my dress. I was a teleporter, a rare…. “Oh shit!” I exclaimed. It was a gift. Which meant… I heard helicopters and started to run. The GPA would soon find me. Damn it! My life was going so well. I was top of my class, one of the best athletes in school, and I had finally kissed my life long crush. Why did this have to happen now?! I ran through the rolling hills of the park in my bare feet. Stupid teleporting ability! My feet were wet, dirty and gross from the running. I slipped and fell, rolling down one of the small hills. I reached the bottom in a matter of seconds. I got up quickly and started running again, not caring that my dress was ripped and I was covered in mud. I was almost out of the park. I could see the gate just up ahead. If I could get there then I could get away, hopefully. I ran harder, quickening my strides. Ace track star Bailey, was coming out. The gate was only a few feet away now. I jumped through as if I was crossing the finish line in a race. Then she ran into me, the girl with red hair and a leather jacket. We slammed into one another and went rolling over the sidewalk. We both groaned and grumble as we sat up, and then she said her first words to me. “Watch where you’re going bitch!” “Back at you!” I retorted. I watched her get up, her hands rested on her knees. We stared at each other. She stood up, mouth opened and she went still before collapsing to the ground. My eyes shot open as I realized what happened and as I went to get up, my body went stiff and I too collapsed. We were tranquilized. I watched as agents of the GPA approached us, most of them wore heavy duty military gear but two of them, a man and a woman each in a well fitted suit stepped in front. The woman held out some sort of gun looking thing and a blue beam of light went over redhead and then me. “Alright,” she started, “ who do we have? The red head is Katya Meyers, just a another nobody from the streets, and… oh shit! Matt come look at this.” She held up the gun for the man, Matt, to look at. “No freaking way, Mags, is that?” “Yep.” She looked at me. “It’s Bailey Prescott, the boss’s kid.” They both looked at me as if they thought they were in trouble. “Do we…do we bring her in?” Matt asked. “Of course we do!” blurted Mags, clearly not phased at who I was. “ She tested positive for a gift. Therefore she gets bagged and tagged like the rest of them.” “Okie dokie. Alright boys, so your thing but try and be nice and don’t get handsy. I’m looking at you, Julian.” I felt cuffs slam down on my wrists and a needle went into my neck. A few seconds later, my world went black.

How did I not see this before? I guess I’ve always been a pretty straight and narrow guy. Never really breaking the rules fully and abiding by most of the laws set in place. Sure I’ve stolen the odd thing. Like when grocery stores finally put in those self check outs and only placed ONE cashier on a busy Saturday afternoon. You bet I failed to scan a full box of RX Bars retailed at $30. But this is different. Currently driving a brand new 2023 Jeep Wrangler out the lot, with no more as a wave good bye and “drive safe!” It’s hard to believe that I can get away with crimes. A hidden talent I never thought possible? Perhaps. But this time I didn’t even try to hide it or attempt an escape. It’s like the rest of the world is onboard with this ability I have only now discovered.

I’m trying to reflect back on moments of my life where I might have gotten in trouble with the law. Come to think of it, I’ve never actually been given as much as a speeding ticket. Not that I have much of a metal foot, but I can recall a time where I was blazing down the 400 when I was 17 years old in my Red Pontiac Sunfire. I was going approximately 140km/hr on a highway that only permits you to go around 100. I remember going this speed because the driver in front was setting the pace. However, at a certain point, a policeman pulled up behind and started up his “cherries”. I pulled into the middle lane, but rather than follow me there, he pulled up beside me, and proceeded to pull the driver that had been infant of me. It was kind of strange at the time, but I wrote it off as lucky. Now, it checks out with this new theory I’ve begun to explore a little more.

As I drive along at a high pace of 160km/hr, I can’t help but wonder what else I might be able to get away with. This whole time I’ve been grinding away at life, with very little to show. Money has always been hard to come by, and even harder to keep. Bills and needless spending always seem to have a way of dwindling away what little savings I attempt to make. But what if I didn’t have to grind away at a job I’m not overly fond of? I guess if I am incapable of committing a crime, there’s no reason why I can’t just walk into a bank right now and demand a million dollars, no questions asked. I make the decision to take the next exit off the highway, and pull into the next RBC bank I see. As I sit in the parking lot, my hands tumble slightly. Fear? For sure. But there’s another feeling I can’t help but notice. Excitement. This could be the beginning of a whole new life. The possibilities could be endless. A man capable of getting away with crime. Robbery, tax evasion, violence… murder. This could get interesting. Or even dangerous. What was that quote from that famous movie? “With great power, comes great reasonability?”. I don’t know. Luckily, I’m a pretty reasonable guy… for now.

“Dude. I have to show you something.”

That was Silas, my roommate of three years. I had no idea he was in the living room when I entered the apartment. When I turned the lights on and saw the excitement in his eyes, it was clear that he was waiting for me. Beyond that, it was creepy and weird, especially since he was sitting in the dark.

"We're you just sitting in the dark?" I asked.

Silas shook his head, "Not important."

"I mean, kind of. Who the hell just sits in the dark? Are you okay?" I asked.

Silas nodded, "I'm just dandy Riggs, but I'm about to be much better. And I think you will be too."

He narrowed his eyes and pointed at me with the word "too." All of his characteristics were off. Silas was never this peppy, he never sat in the dark...he barely talked to me. I opened my mouth to say something, but he interrupted me.

"Walk with me to my room. I have to show you something."

"You seem off Silas." It was all I could manage.

"Trust me, you're going to want to see this."

"Did you even hear what I said, Silas? Are you okay?"

He brushed past me toward the hallway that led to our rooms. "Come here, Riggs. I think you're going to like this."

I cautiously made my way down the hall and into Silas's room. Following him toward the window. I followed his overly enthusiastic stare to the man who lived below us.

"Okay," I started. "It's just that piece of shit Frankie. What? Do you have a better vantage point of him for when he starts to smoke and cough up a lung?"

Silas shook his head, "Hush. Now check this out."

I have to be honest. I never thought much of Silas. For the past three years, he was just my roommate. Just a random guy on Craigslist who needed a place to live. We kept to ourselves and that's the way I liked it. He stayed out of my personal life and I granted him the same favor. I couldn't even recall the last time I was in his room.

I nervously stared down at Frankie as he lit the blunt between his fingers and placed it between his lips. I could feel Silas's eyes on me, and through my peripherals, I could tell that he was barely moving and that he wasn't blinking. I slowly turned to meet Silas's, wide-eyed glare. At that moment he scared me, and it dawned on me that I didn't want to see what he wanted to show me.

"Watch," Silas mouthed, in an almost flirtatious manner.

He formed a gun with his right hand, closing his right eye as though he were aiming down its sights. He pointed it at Frankie who was oblivious to the fact that we were staring at him from the upstairs window.

"Bang," Silas whispered.

Frankie got to his feet, in an almost robotic manner. He pushed the chair out from under him with such an abrupt force that it toppled over. The joint dangled loosely from his lips, before falling to the patio table and then onto the cement. He raised his right arm before him, the back of his hand arched upward and toward his face, as though he were assessing his nails. His left arm shot up and forward, and then snapped toward his right hand, grabbing his thumb.

I could hear a giggle escape Silas's lips, and then Frankie broke his own thumb. The crack was loud, it sounded like a small tree snapping into two. Frankie let out a howl of excruciating pain, one so loud that it set the neighborhood dogs into a frenzy. A flock of birds fled from their trees as though they sensed an unseen danger.

"Oh my god!" I screeched, stumbling away from the window.

A devilish smirk spread across Frankie's face, his eyes were wide and bloodshot. He didn't even look recognizable. He aimed his handgun at Frankie again, his eyes not leaving mine.

"Bang...Bang!" He said.

I watched in horror as Frankie collapsed to his knees. He grabbed his pointer finger and middle finger and then viciously pulled them to the left. Two cracks cut through the sky, making my ears pop.

"What the fuck? Silas!? Knock it off!! What the hell's wrong with you?" I screamed.

Silas chuckled, "It's all in good fun Riggs. It's not like we like this piece of shit."

I shook my head, "Dude. I don't know what the fuck is going on. But you need to stop this."

"Oh...no no no Riggs." Silas sang. "You have to see the best part."

He aimed his handgun at Frankie again and said Bang. I couldn't even hear it over our neighbor's wails and screams. I peered out the window, my eyes fixated on the three fingers that dangled about on his right hand. I could see his strained breathing as his left hand wrapped around his right wrist. He extended his right arm forward and readjusted his stance, and then he viciously drove his right knee into his right elbow.

One.

Two.

Three.

Each strike caused him to scream in pain, before finally breaking his arm in two. I watched in horrified slow motion as the bone from his forearm sliced through his skin. As the blood gushed out from his wound and rained down onto the pavement.

I backed away, stumbling over my own feet, my eyes not leaving Silas as he turned toward me.

"Stay the fuck away from me," I demanded.

He still wasn't blinking and the smile across his cheeks never faded. I continued to back away, toward the door of his bedroom...

And then I stopped. I couldn't move. It was as though my body were consumed with a form of paralysis. It felt as though the only thing I had control over were my eyes. I tried to scream but I couldn't. My eyes shot over to Silas who stood in front of me. He raised his handgun and aimed it directly at me.

"Bang."

“You seem… tense. Why are you here, Taylor?”

Taylor smiled delicately. Let her eyes linger on his. She brushed her hair out of her eyes.

“To talk, Harris. To check up on you after… you know. Could you keep for some tea?”

Harris frowned at the rapid stream of words, but turned to obey nonetheless. Taylor let her eyes, sparking flint, rove over the room. She keenly marked all signs of feminine cohabitation- a diaphanous satin nightgown folded neatly on the bed just visible at the end of the hallway, lipstick and brushes on a divan in the living room, and two pairs of pencil heels. All of them brazen proof of memory eroded.

When Harris set the cups down, she examined his manner discretely. An affectation of grief, perfunctory and transparent. Excusable as shock, apparently. But far too healthy, far too normal, for a man who unexpectedly lost his wife.

“Stella never wore heels, did she?”

Harris cleared his throat uncomfortably, a hint of annoyance audible. Good. He didn’t let any emotion slip into his tone, however.

“They’re not hers.” He was clever. He knew all too well the close bond his deceased wife and Taylor shared, and dared not lie to her. “They’re my friend’s. She’s staying here temporarily.”

She let nothing penetrate her mask. Disgust roiled deep within. Friend indeed. The bed had barely gone cold after Stella’s disappearance before she sullied it with her presence.

“Indeed.” Her mind sifted through Tuesday dinner conversations- little tidbits, indicating infidelity. Inexplicable expenses. Foreign scents and stains. Distance. Apparently he’d had enough of the clandestine, illicit affair. She knew he’d done away with his wife. One of her closest friends. She slipped her hand into her purse.

“So, how’s life with your mistress?” Harris spit out his tea. Taylor received the display with a stony countenance. It wasn’t time just yet. Waiting would be prudent.

“Wh-who? Darlene?” He fumbled with his cup, setting it down shakily. “She’s a friend. Nothing else.” His hand unconsciously covered the table. A particularly interesting document caught Taylor’a attention.

“What’s that?” Uncomfortable silence, followed by hesitant titters. He moved as of to remove it, but Taylor was swift. She grabbed it. Smirked ever-so slightly. This made things interesting.

“Life insurance? Wow, you’ve sure upped the premium. And darling Darlene is the benefactor? That’s news.”

“Yeah, I changed it. Three months ago. Darlene’s been an amazing… friend, since Stel passed. I have no one else.”

Taylor digested the lies impassively. She knew exactly what had happened, and pictured it- Harris’ meaty hands wrapping around her best friend’s throat, squeezing the life out of her body.

Her hand clenched around something. She stealthily pulled it out of her purse. Her face was still perfectly manufactured- glassy and blasé.

“Enough. This is not what you’re here for, Tay, and…”

His words choked in his throat as Taylor plunged a knife into his chest. The endearment had done it. He gurgled, before collapsing to the ground. Clutched the hilt of the dagger and pulled it out. Big mistake. Then again, he never was the brightest. Taylor allowed her mouth to twist cruelly. Her pearly white teeth were visible between merlot lips.

“T-t-Taylor…”

“It was supposed to be me, Harris.” Her words were cool and cutting as the night air. “I helped you plot the murder of my best friend, all for you to throw me aside like a toy you got tired of, use my plan to murder Stel, and acquire new eye candy. I was willing to betray my best friend for you, for love. But you betrayed me. And you shall now pay for that.”

Harris struggled on the ground, eyes wide and pained. Taylor watched the life ebb from his eyes. She wiped a beady tear threatening to flow.

“I really did love you, Harris. Still do, possibly. But you needed to learn the consequences of betrayal. To me, especially.”

She knelt down. Kissed a rough, shaking cheek. Leaning down to his ear, she whispered, “The number of times I had to restrain myself, all these months, is staggering. When you first ‘found out’, at the service, every time I saw you and darling Darlene…”

She got up. Went to the kitchen for cleaning supplies. “But I’ve recently discovered that I can maintain an impeccable poker face. Which I shall keep as I dump the body of my former love into a lake. After all, no body no crime, right Har?”

« it’s just a meringue » I say under my breath, bracing myself for another set of eggs to go wrong.

Charlie is watching the football in the living room. He’s blissfully unaware I’ve been falling apart. The easy and quick recipe my mother-in-law has served every Sunday since 1976. Did you know there are different meringue type? The French, the Italian, the Swiss… all with the same easy first step of neatly separating the whites from the yolks. My eggs stubbornly refuse to do so. the slippery yellow buggers keep escaping into the bowl.

« if SHE can do it, so can I»

my friend Mairead gave me a tip. « Don’t try to be so bold and get all of it fast. let it slip by itself and stops when it’s done ». The trick is to break the egg nicely into two halves and slowly pour the white back and forth between the two bits of the shell, letting the white falls by itself into the bowl in the process. when the half where the yolk still lays, unbroken, has little white left, stops quietly. Don’t try to be eager and get it all out. You’d break the yolk.

«  It’s working! I can’t believe it!» I’m shrieking like a little girl as I watch the transparent gluey texture glinting from the bowl. That stirs up a snoozy «you all right Love ? » from the living room.

I do one, two, three… I can’t stop…The whites all escape in the bowl with the yolks unscathed. I’m a genius! I’m so good! I can see so many bakes happening in the future. I’ll be the envy of the family, the centre of love and attention… oh I can’t wait to show them all what I can do!