Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [58]
“Now, you try it,” Brent said as he moved the ball so it lay in front of my feet.
I stuck my hand out like Brent had, staring at the ball, concentrating and biting my bottom lip. Nothing. It didn’t so much as vibrate. I tried it again and again and again. Still nothing.
“You have to visualize it doing what you want it to.”
Focusing on the ball, I pictured it rising up to my open palm. The ball twitched slightly. I put even more mental energy into visualizing it. It flopped on the ground like a floundering trout.
“Yara, it’s a little like faith. You can have no doubt that the object will obey you.”
Biting harder on my lip, I pictured the ball again and tried to believe it would obey me. For an instant it lifted. A squeal of delight escaped my mouth and I did a dance of joy that may have included some really outdated moves. A proud smile spread across Brent’s face as he commented, “You’re picking it up pretty quickly.”
He might have been stroking my ego, but I didn’t care. In repeat attempts, I wasn’t able to get the ball to move any higher, but I was able to recreate its small rise into the air.
“Let’s try this,” Brent said, throwing the ball at me. “Hit it back.”
Instead of ducking, I moved my arm through the air, picturing the ball soaring back to Brent. While the ball didn’t go that far, it did change course. After several tries, I was able to actually hit it all the way back to him and then he volleyed it back to me. I wasn’t able to create the motion, but I could redirect something already moving. I hoped that would change with more practice.
Eventually, Brent sat down with a huge smile and ran his fingers through the sand. Following his example, I was surprised by the tickling sensation of its rough texture. The sun had begun to set and I leaned back on the sand to watch. I had been so absorbed in our game, I hadn’t noticed that we had been here all day. The blazing palate of colors was breathtaking: red, pink, purple, and yellow. We sat in a silence disturbed only by a distant woodpecker as the most brilliant canopy of stars I had ever seen replaced the sunset.
The night was dark, but around us everything grew an even deeper black. Out of the corner of my right eye, I thought I saw something glide past. A familiar feeling of dread encompassed me as the temperature plummeted. The mist was creeping toward us, outlines of individual beings swirling inside it, their faces set in horrible grimaces. Scuttling like an awkward crab I tried to back away. A heaviness settled over me, making it hard to move, impossible to speak.
From the mist, a spear-like tendril slithered toward us, aiming for me. I feigned to the right as it shot toward me but it wasn’t fooled, and managed to stab me in the shoulder. Its point pierced me and an icy cold laced my shoulder, and warmed quickly to a burn that seeped deep into me. My hands wound around the inky tentacle and yanked it out. I screamed as blue liquid flowed from the ugly black wound.
The offshoot recoiled to strike again when something grabbed me from behind, like a strong firm hand had reached around my waist and was pulling me away, distancing me from my enemy. The wind was sucked from my lungs and my body folded in half, as if being pulled like taffy, and I was carried across campus. The air changed from fresh and flavorful to old and stale. Buildings, trees, and people zoomed by, and as they did I felt like I was being torn limb from limb. I cried out in agony.
My vision blurred as the pain grew. When it finally receded I looked around and found myself back in the glass pool house. I glanced at the clock; it read ten-thirty, just as it had the last time I was in here with Thomas, who had been masquerading as Brent. Had it really been only twenty-four hours since I had died?
The banner announcing a pre-season meet with our rival school still hung across the room, though the meet should have already happened. Even the moonlight shadows and the placement of the chairs replicated the night I died.