The Painting

One of the best things about being dead for a few days is the fact that you get to stay home from school. A lot.

Being an only child means that when your parents aren’t there, you get to be king for the day. After raiding the fridge for breakfast, I sat in front of the television set aimlessly channel surfing. Turns out I had made a big splash in local news, being found after 20 days without knowing where I was. My honest opinion was that it wasn’t any of their business where I was. I mean, I don’t ask them where they go. The one good thing was that I got to see the video that Erica Simmons made. Drake was right. She was crying profusely, her hair matted to here face. Her voice was broken as she spoke. It was either that she really, really liked me or she was a hell of an actress. I think it was a healthy mix of the two. After three hours of mindless channel surfing, I went online got, into a chat about music, and ended up calling everyone idiots before logging off. Still craving mental stimulation, I browsed YouTube for anime music videos. I got up and went to the fridge and to look for something cold to drink. As I opened the door the first thing that hit me was how cold it was. Cold. For some strange reason, my feet began to feel cold too. I looked down and gasped. Ice was spreading across the floor from the soles of my feet. Thoughts flashed through my mind. The cup of water on the door. The breaker and thermometer. The rain. The pool. It was me, I remembered thinking at the bottom of the pool. It was me who was causing thing to freeze.

I walked over to the kitchen sink and turned on the water. I placed my hand under the water, letting it run freely. If I could indeed freeze things, I had to make sure something like the pool incident never happened again. I could end up killing myself for real or worse, someone else. I looked at the water. Every time I had frozen something, I had felt a cold rush. I cleared my mind and concentrated on the water. “Cold” I thought, “I want to make the water cold. Freeze it.” Nothing happened. I tried again. This time I tried to picture the beaker and thermometer in the Physics lab. I closed my eyes and tried to remember the cold draft I had felt. The sound of the flowing water stopped. Slowly, I opened my eyes. The stream of water had frozen, straight up to the faucet head. I breathed heavily. I had done it! I had intentionally frozen something! I stumbled back from the sink. Out of all the people in the world, I, boring old Alex Peterson, had a power that has been the focus of untold human fantasies. I had what every human secretly desired: power that would place him way above his peers. I picked up a cup that was half filled with water. I looked at it and thought about the cold draft. The water froze. Again! I had done it! If I could control my ability, there was no telling what I was capable of.

Rushing back to the computer, I sat and googled ‘ice ability’. Instantly, a load of links to X-men and Justice League fan sites appeared. Sifting through, my eyes lighted on one particular link. It was an article named ‘Cryokinesis ’. I had no idea what it meant, but it sounded cool so I gave it a try. The article read:

“Cryokinesis: The supposed ability, where one is able to reduce the kinetic energy of molecules in a substance, thereby freezing it. Though sometimes confused with the ability to create ice, cryokinesis users can freeze already solid objects, causing them to become brittle and shatter”

I stared at the screen for a while. What if this was the ability that I had? What if I could freeze anything? The thought excited me greatly. There was only one way to find out. I opened one of the drawers in my room and took out an old tennis ball. I held it in the palm of my hand and concentrated on feeling the cold draft. The ball began turning an odd blue color, making a crackling sound while doing so. It gave off a kind of heavy steam, which fell to the ground. I took a deep breath and squeezed it. The ball shattered like an egg. A smile spread slowly across my face. Cryokinesis. Not the ability to create ice, but the ability to freeze anything. There was no limit to what I could do! My body trembled with excitement as wild thoughts about my power raced through my mind.

My euphoric moment was broken by the ill-timed ringing of the door bell. I opened it to see a Fed Ex delivery man standing on my doorstep. “Um, I have a package here for a Mr. Alex Peterson.” He said looking down at his clipboard. “Is there anyone here by that name?”

“I’m Alex Peterson.” I replied.

“Well, could you sign here please?” he asked, handing me the clipboard and a pen. I signed and he handed me square package, hurriedly wrapped in brown paper and left. I went inside and placed the package on the kitchen table. It was about two feet wide and relatively light. My name and address was scrawled across it. I ripped off the paper, and stared in confusion. Was this some kind of sick joke? Who would do something like this?

The package contained one of the most morbid paintings I had ever seen. It was a picture of a young man in a suit, sitting on a patch of grass, holding what appeared to be a young woman in an elegant dress across his lap, her body limp. Blood stained her dress in various places. The young man sat, tears running down his face. I stared at his face. It looked so familiar. It was black, topped of by curly black hair. That face. Suddenly it struck me. Goosebumps grew up my hand, across my body. That face… was my face! It was a painting of me! My hands trembled violently. If it was me in the picture, then who was the girl? I stared at her face. It was obscured by her black hair falling across it. Her body was well shaped despite the horror of the picture. Blood ran from her slightly parted lips. Her face looked pale, but her olive colored complexion was still recognizable… my body went rigid. The girl in the picture …was Erica! Her beautiful brown eyes were wide open, staring at nothing. Dead. I dropped the picture, backing away from it. A piece of paper dropped from behind the picture. I bent over and picked it up, my hands still trembling. It was a note, written in the same scrawled handwriting that was on the package. It read ‘Only you can stop this! Don’t let her die!’ I looked at the picture. This was a picture of what was going to happen. I shook my head. This wasn’t real. Somebody couldn’t possibly paint the future. This was just probably a sick joke from one of those kids at school. I picked up the painting. “Someone can’t paint the future.” I thought to myself again. “Someone can’t freeze a pool of water either.” The thought unnerved me. I held the picture I my hand trying to decide what to do with it. Just then I heard the front door open and my mom call out for me. I ran upstairs and threw the picture under my bed. I would deal with it later. Right now, I had a life to live. I had people to love, and people to protect. With my new power that would be easy. Or would it.