Choice 1

Every person feels emotion; the difference between each person is how great the feeling is. One person can feel sad, while the person sitting next to them is enduring the most intoxicating, overwhelming suffering the sad person could not begin to understand. Many of the less emotional call the sweeping emotional people drama queens when, in reality, they could not imagine such a terrible hurt. Here, we stepped into the life of Emma, who suffered from what she thought was a disorder, almost drove herself crazy every time she felt that emptiness creep into her heart. And her story begins…             Emma enjoyed being alone. She had friends, she had many friends she just did not mind having her own time once in awhile. Her friends did not understand her. Sometimes they would look over her after a joke was told to see a shade of the coldest blue instead of a glowing orange that was evoked from the laughter in the group. Other instances, she would be happiest of all shining yellow above all of them. She knew she was feeling everything different, she just could not understand the reason.             Teen hormones were always thrown out there by her mother as the reason for the problem. Her sister had often times called her bipolar. Her father was oblivious just as the rest of her family, she knew how to put on a mask.             Lately, Emma was feeling worse. All around glum. She stuttered and lost interest in everything about her. She had become more quiet than usual and was not willing to open her heart to anyone. She was convinced she was depressed but refrained from letting any doctor or counselor help her.             On a Tuesday, her least favorite day, she walked the halls of her high school staring out onto the sunlit grounds almost smiling. These were the days she lived for during the god-forsaken school year. She felt a hand round her waste and looked at it curiously.             “Hello sunshine,” said a slight voice above her. She turned to smile at the tall boy who had seemed to absorb the sunlight quite nice. “Scott, good morning!” Emma breathed, her heart racing. She could her face had taken on a red skin tone as he wrapped both of his arms around her.  She was not one for public displays of affection, she found they were slightly immature and honestly disgusting, but, he was behaving and it was a sunny day so she gave in.             The two did not always have opportunities like this; they were on again off again for the past two months, which in Emma’s mind was much too long for a high school relationship. Most days, it was a challenge to look him in the eye. She often used her thick brown hair to shield her eyes from his searching spotlights.             The two continued to walk down the hall. “You look like you are doin’ okay today,” said Scott trying to be careful with what he knew was a bomb that could explode at any second.             “Yeah, well it happens,” Emma replied in a distant voice. She was quite annoyed at the almost psychiatric remark. She didn’t need taken care of like so. “How are you?”             They continued their simple conversation, both of them holding onto their hard outer shell, neither one letting in a little light.             Around noon, she was with her friends on their way to the common area to sit and eat. She listened to Sam, Amber and Jane squabble about weekend plans and gossip that had occurred at Matt’s party Saturday night. She peered around, looking for Scott in his flannel to maybe provide a little bit of more sophisticated information than who puked on who, but she knew better than to hope he was eating lunch at lunch…             She walked with them down the hall to Sam’s locker, near the library. The artwork caught her eye, she was slightly troubled they had framed the pieces already; she saw several of her own works placed in front. She quickly and quietly removed the paper nametags that attributed the artist in front of her paintings before her friends could notice.             She continued her day like this, semi-distant with not much to say. She would never expect the events that would happen that afternoon, assuming it was just another miserable Tuesday.             She returned home and ran to her room at once. She collapsed onto her bed with a sigh of relief, turned Linkin Park on and fell asleep almost instantly. She never dreamt, she awoke from a black sleep at sunset. Her room illuminated and shadows stretching across her cluttered floor. She didn’t move but smiled in the silence.             When the sun had fully set, she willed herself to move. Emma sat up and froze. Something creaked through the darkness which was now entirely soaked through her room. She waited and started to move again, then she heard a hand on the doorknob and her heart escalated. It slowly drifted open.             Emma couldn’t move. Her eyes glued to the shadow beyond the door, trying to make any shape out from the wooden door. Then a deep voice punctured the silence.             “Emma, do not move, do not worry. I am here to your benefit. I am here to help,” said the deep voice.             “Uhm, ok?” Emma replied, still extremely tense.             “You are different, Emma. The way you think, what you feel you are different but you are not alone,” continued the voice. The deep tone was soothing and reassuring, every moment she felt more and more relaxed as the room became much more pleasant.             “You are at the stage of your life where you are finding what you can do the most. You are capable of many things. Emma, you are special but not alone,” the stranger seemed to be finished. She could have been annoyed if did not feel so relieved.             “What, exactly do you mean when you say what I can do?” Emma said.             “Your emotions are just the beginning of your findings. Your philosophies and feeling amount to a passion within you where you will be able to transfer what is in your mind so others can experience it… physically,” the voice said softer, there was movement in the darkness but it remained in the deepest dark. “You have memories of this happening, memories where you may have been frustrated with the simplicity of someone that you had them feel it…”             Emma looked down, reeling through her thoughts trying to think of what he could be saying. She was twelve; Sam was sitting across from her chatting and chatting. Emma felt an overwhelming pain to share her feelings, like they were bursting out of her. Sam would not be quiet; she could not even try to care. Emma grabbed Sam’s waving hand and she pulled it back crying. Sam had seen images and felt an overwhelming heat but not burning, though, she was sure she could have inflicted more pain. Emma remembered all the times she was so mad at Scott that as soon as she touched him, he left immediately.             Every time this happened, she was alone.             “And you say I am not alone?” Emma said desperately.             “That is where we come in,” said a new voice with a slight giggle from behind that one. There was a flash and her eyes went array.             She focused her eyes and found she was not alone. There were four people in the room with her. The closest was a woman with a bright smile. She looked harder, and found the woman was not so much a woman but a girl. She looked no older than Emma yet, when she moved her head to smile, her hair shimmered gray streaks in her brown hair. She also had a mask hanging loosely round her neck. Behind the woman’s stunning smile, her face was worn and almost old, though it the frail skin did not register to Emma at first.             Next was a very normal young man. He did not smile; he did not seem to look her way. His eyes were down but once he felt her glare, he looked up. Emma took a huge gasp as soon as his eyes met hers. The eyes felt like spotlights, swirling green and yellow that no shadow could cover. She felt the warmth increase as her muscles relaxed on her bed. It was a very hard task to look away but curiosity got the better of her.             To his right was an older man, who looked about his twenties. This man did not look normal at all; he looked like a male model crossed with a body builder. His black shirt stretched across his chest, which, at a closer look, seemed to be pulsating. He smiled extremely warmly at her.             The last individual was behind the three of them; his face covered in darkness, all Emma could make out was a silouette. They were all wearing black. Emma sat there taking in breath slowly and letting it out even slower.             “So,” she finally said, “you are all… special?”             “Yup!” said the other woman in the room. “My names Peyton.”             “And I am Phil,” said the muscular man. “This is Tommy.” He pointed to the young man, his eyes sinking lower to  the ground.             “You can call him Slug,” he said, motioning to the dark man in the back.             “That’s right. We are all ‘special’ in a different way. Each fueled by a psychological sense that is frankly unexplained,” said the dark voice, protruding from Slug. “Phil started with the most compassion and character which fueled him to take on a hero role. His body followed suit, as observed—“             “Yeah, his heart is too big for his head,” interrupted a giggling Peyton.             “Peyton emotes something extremely unusual. She has such a strong happiness about her, she took that power and energy to harness it into pleasurable physical abilities humans are not capable of. Speed, for example,” said Slug.             “The more she laughs, the faster she goes,” said Tommy quietly. Peyton giggled and winked at Emma.             “Tommy is our newest find,” Slug continued. “You will find he does not speak much for what he is spectacular at is listening. He listens deep into your heart to where he can read what you are trying to portray, mind reading to an extent.             “Quite the opposite of what you are capable of. Your ability is fierce. Do not be discouraged by this, each one of these people came to me not knowing how to control themselves. The reason we are here is to offer you assistance,” Slug stopped, waiting for an answer.             Emma contemplated. Super heroes. There were superheroes in her bedroom. They were saying she was a super hero.             “What… what do you do?” She asked Slug rather timidly. She felt like she was violating a law by asking but she needed to know.             “I do not do anything,” He said in a slightly more monotone voice, still dark. “I have been in the shadows all of my life. I watch my surroundings and understand. That is all I do.”             “He is genius,” said Tommy even quieter, the first time he has said anything.             “And you basically are superheroes?” Emma said almost frightened. “What we do is harness our talents and use them to help humanity,” explained Slug. “This is a depraved world. Some people experience emotions just as we do and they have two options. One, if they are capable of thinking deep enough, they can use their emotion to an extent for good. Two, they refute and reject any sign of encouragement or help. They then cannot control their feelings and wreak havoc in crime to every soul around them. Not many people choose the first option, it is a difficult step. The people who do, however, have a responsibility to stop the people who have turned in the wrong direction. And that, is what I am asking you. Will you join us?”             The others stood stiffer, all staring at her, awaiting a response. Emma struggled in her mind. She felt her face fell hard. She was no Superman. How could she be capable of something so honorable and extraordinary when she had so many evil thoughts that could make anyone cry? She felt as depraved as the ones with evil motives around the city. She became so frustrated, tears made their way to the forefront of her eye.             Peyton let out a gasp after some minutes as Emma wiped a tear from her eye. “Whaa…?” She began and looked down. “Your hand,” Peyton said in awe just as Emma realized what everyone was staring at. Her hands were glowing with a layer of flame. Frustration.             She looked back up to see the three of them staring at slug. She saw him give a slight nod to Tommy and Tommy approached Emma slowly. He sat down so he was eye level with her, taking her hand in his, showing no fear. He lifted her hand, examined it then darted his eyes to hers. At first, she tried to look away. But the sunshine in them was so welcoming. She stared back.             “You are not a dark being,” he said extremely soft, almost a whisper. His eyes swirling softly, almost into a smile. “You are not hopeless. You are entirely capable of everything we are. See?” He slightly smiled, motioning at her hand, which extinguished instantly. He set it down gently, still in his. “Know that I understand everything you are feeling. You can trust me. And I know you are capable of controlling everything you have discovered.”             She never broke his gaze. His words sank in. She had never had anyone say that before, she had never had anyone care as much.             “And remember,” he said once more, probably finishing shifting through her mind, “you are not alone.”             “Yes,” was all she said. Emma did not question what the decision had entailed, she did not care. She felt as though she had finally found somewhere she belonged and there was no question to reject the offer.             Tommy’s mouth turned into a full smile. “Come,” he said. They stood up together and were surrounded by the two others smiling warmly. Peyton clamped her on the shoulder, portraying the largest smile. Phil swept her into a hug, she felt his heart beat faster, hers did the same. Tommy had never let go of her hand and, as soon as she was out of Phil’s arms, led her to Slug.             She could make out  indents of eyes, mouth and a protruding nose all of the features dark. She saw his mouth open, “Welcome, we have much to do.”             With a jab and a flash, Emma’s room emptied leaving no inhabitants.

About elli

I'm trying to "realize the full assurance of hope until the end." To be an "imitator of those who through faith and patience inherit the promise." And spreading the "unchangeableness" and "hope" of God's purpose. Heb. 7
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