The Gift

A sixteen year old girl is born with psychic powers. She is called on to assist police with a case of a missing toddler Andrew who disappeared from his house during the night.

 

            

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                     The gift

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                    Chapter 1

 

     My name is Amanda Taylor and I am no ordinary teenager. I was born with psychic powers, which means that I have visions of things that have already happened, are happening, and what will happen in the future. I can’t tell if you will win the next lottery, but I can touch something connected to you and see things about you.

    I started noticing this gift as my mother calls it, when I was about five years old. In kindergarten I touched a toy after my friend had finished playing with and I got a vision of her eventual death in a horrible car accident. When I didn’t see her anymore, I knew what had happened to her. I see the gift as more a curse, making me feel so isolated from what I call normal people.

 

    Now at sixteen I have traveled to most places that my peers haven’t gone. Assisting local police forces and federal agencies with various cases that the trail has gone cold, I am very busy these days.

 

    The newest case I am working on is the case of a missing toddler, who disappeared from the his bedroom in the middle of the night. A team of volunteers was gathered to scour the wooded area behind the house with no sighting. The parents even made a tearful plea for their sons return offering a modest reward for no questions asked.

 

    After several weeks went by with no clues and no leads to follow, Detective Smith from the Florida Police Department came to my house and asked for my assistance. We boarded a flight to Florida that afternoon.

 

    Following the contour of the coastal road heading toward Miami, I rolled down the passenger side window. I could see the blue water of the ocean that went on as far as the eye could see, and the smell of the salty water was refreshing compared to the river waters of the mighty Missouri river  which runs between Nebraska and Iowa. I live in Nebraska, not a exciting place but it’s home, I feel safe there. Anyway we were headed toward Miami, I hear it’s a huge city.

 

    Taking the expressway I could see the tall skyscrapers in the distance, eventually we made are way to a modest residence in a neighborhood of Miami Dade county. The small house was painted a pale yellow color with a small flower bed in the front with several colorfully planted flowers. Walking up the red brick pathway that led to a white washed wooded front porch, I grabbed the banister without thinking. A vision of violence struck me like a blow to the stomach all the air sucked out of my lungs and I found myself unable to breathe. Detective Smith caught me just as I went down to my knees. “What happened, what did you see?” he asked me with a alarming look about his face. “I’m not sure” I replied reaching for the banister he helped me to my feet.  Reluctantly I rang the door bell and waited.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                           Chapter 2

 

 

 

    “You must be the young lady I’ve heard so much about, come in and make yourself at home, I’m Carlyon Holmes” she said extending her hand to me. She was short in stature with shoulder length sandy blonde hair that she had pulled back in a pony tail.

 

    Stepping into the living room I could see the white tile floors and bars on the window that looked out to the front yard. Gesturing for us to sit down, she went into the kitchen and came out with a pitcher of iced tea and several glasses. While we sipped the cool iced tea I asked some simple background questions about her son Andrew, and the circumstances that led up to his disappearance. Several times she had to pause to wipe the tears that fell from her eyes, I could tell that this was very hard for her, so I tried to keep my questions brief and to the point. “I’ll need to see his bedroom, and I will need privacy” I said.

 

    Leading me to the back of the house Andrew’s bedroom faced the back porch. White tiled and bars on the windows much like the living room, they closed the door behind them leaving me alone in the room. I was hopeful that I could provide some clues, or find him, providing some reassurance to the parents. “Please tell me what happened to you, or where you are Andrew?” I muttered mostly to myself. Sitting down on the edge of his little bed I thought about the vision I had on the front walk, I had a feeling that he was somewhere where he couldn’t breathe very well. I knew by that he was still alive but time was running out for him.

 

    Something kept drawing me to the bedroom window, I sensed that he was near, how close I couldn’t tell. Starting with the closet I opened the door, and immediately got a sense of anxiety that Andrew was afraid of the dark. I smelled damp earth and had a sense of confinement.

 

    I came out of the closet and picked up one of his stuffed dragons that was one of Andrew’s favorite animals that he took to bed with him every night. I got mixed feelings with this encounter because I got the visions of both bedtime stories with mom and a sense of fear that came with a familiar male figure that lived close like within the neighborhood.

 

    Opening the door I made my way back to the front room where they sat waiting. I sat down and took a sip from my glass of tea. “Carlyon, do you have a man in the neighborhood that ever comes around?” I asked. I could see she had been crying. “Yes, my neighbor Manuel, who comes over to babysit for me occasional, why?” she asked concerned . “Does, he have a basement?”, “No, but he does have a storm cellar, you don’t think that he might have harmed Andrew” she said. “I sensed that Andrew is very close, and that he is still alive, but time is running out for him, he is somewhere dark, and he is very afraid” I said. “Manuel wouldn’t hurt Andrew I trust him with my son” she exclaimed. “No, offense but how well do you really know Manuel” Detective Smith brought a picture of a man and showed it to Carlyon. “Is this Manuel?”, “Yes, it is” she replied. Detective Smith gave her Manuel’s profile. “What’s this” she asked. “It’s Manuel’s prison profile, he is a sex offender, he had spent five years in prison for sexually molesting and raping several little girls and boys”. Smith said. Carlyon began to weep uncontrollably “I’ll kill him, if he did anything to my Andrew!” she shouted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                              Chapter 3

 

 

 

    Carlyon waited on the sidewalk while I led Detective Smith and a team of officers from the Miami PD around the back of Manuel’s house. I went right to the corner of the fenced in yard. Brushing aside a pile of leaf litter and grass clippings was a green wood door with a heavy padlock. I hoped that we weren’t too late.

 

    A tall, thin officer came back with a set of bolt cutters. Snapping the lock, Manuel stood close in handcuffs with another officer holding him by the arm watching as the door to the storm cellar opened. The door squeaked with a protest.

 

       

  Detective Smith went down the stone steps into the darkness. I wasn’t aware that I was holding my breath until he came back up several minutes later. A grim look blanketed his face and at once I knew that we were too late. He just walked up to Manuel “I’ll make sure that you stay behind bars this time, and I hope they do the same to you in prison” he said. Manuel just smiled.

 

    Tears fell from my eyes that afternoon, I wept for the little boy who would never be able to grow up, whose life was ended at a young age, for all he never would be able to experience, for all those who loved him. I walked past Manuel feeling a mixture of pity for a man not able to control the demons within himself, yet I despised him for what he had done to Andrew.

 

    As the gurney wheeled the small black body bag past Carlyon she sobbed uncontrollably upon the little bag that contained the broken body of her Andrew. She wanted to just lay down and die so she could be with him. Her heart was breaking. The door closed to the ambulance and it drove away, no lights or sirens, I watched as it drove out of sight.

 

    By now a crowd of neighbors were gathering across the street watching events as they had unfolded.   

 

    On the plane ride back to Nebraska I wrote in my journal.

     My name is Amanda Taylor and I’m no ordinary teenager……………..

Reviews

[Paul D. Aronson]

I believe you are on to something. The character does need fleshing out some, and the story expanded on to be truly effective in grabbing the reader. personally, i think with some work you could shape this into a book length tale with maybe this section being the prologue, setting the reader up for a longer suspenseful ride. If you decided to flesh it out, i would suggest trying more of of a 'show, don't tell' approach, and let the reader discover Amanda's gifts for themselves rather than having you tell them about it at the story's beginning. Overall, i enjoyed this story and see in it a lot of potential. Good luck and keep at it! My first book started at a place similar to the cafe, and it took 2 years before it was ready, so keep honing your craft :)

[Sheri Haynes]

This piece needs work, the Amanda Taylor isn't well devoloped even for a short story, and the story line needs expanding but challanging to stay under 2000 words. I entered this in the girl in the picture contest just to see what would happen, not expect to much. But here goes nothing!