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A Still Soul

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My parents prohibited me from taking photos of myself. They were so strict about this rule that even my friends were asked never to do it. I didn’t think about it when I was much younger, but once I reached middle school, I began to grow tired of their rules. They said taking photos only brought misfortune upon our family, and that both my grandmother and my aunt lost their lives because of it. They never really opened up about why they avoided taking photos until that day. Mom told me that some of her ancestors were witches, and that there was a curse on our family from over a century ago that siphoned a portion of our soul each time we took a photo of ourselves. It didn’t matter whether the family member was a witch or not, the curse would still flow through the bloodline. Mom also said that I was a witch, unlike her, so the curse would be even more potent for me. I was speechless and confused, since I had never been able to use magic, but Mom said there was magic emanating from me w...
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Manipulation

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I learned as a child that I could easily manipulate people and situations in my favour. When I told my mom what I could do, she asked me never to reveal my secret to anyone, and to use my powers only for good. Mom made me promise to use my powers sparingly to avoid unnecessary attention; I kept that promise as I grew up. I sometimes manipulated the rich into providing homeless people all the financial aid they needed to get back on their feet; other times, I’d alter people’s minds so that they could get through addiction and other self-destructive behaviour. In time, my hometown became well-known for its peaceful environment. Homelessness was obsolete, and even crime rates were near zero. I felt blessed that my gift had such an impact on those around me, and that I was able to help shape my hometown into what it was. I made it a point not to use my powers for personal gain in most situations, but every now and then, I would use it to tweak my scores for projects and exams whenever I wa...
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A Dormant Darkness

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As a child, I would often lose time thinking about death and what I wanted my last rites to be. I could never explain why my mind lingered on the topic, and whenever I brought the topic up with my parents, they would immediately ask me to stop. “You shouldn’t talk about such things,” they’d say; “We’ll be long gone before, and you have a long life ahead of you.” I replied with “You never know what’s in store for you,” and left the topic there. I understood where my parents were coming from, but it was just a topic my mind would often circle back to, though I didn’t know why. My two elder sisters were more open to hearing me out, but even they grew tired of the topic as my mind delved deeper into questions on death: what it would be like in those final moments, or just after? What lay in wait once our bodies were nothing but a memory? The young me had so many questions on her mind… When I was in middle school, one of my friends introduced me to a fantasy game that had me hooked from the...
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Concrete Coffins

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Nobody expected to face a third world war, but the reckless decisions of a few led to the destruction of many. My parents and I were among the few who found ourselves in bunkers, hiding in fear as the shockwaves rippled the earth above us. We watched the news in horror as cities were reduced to ashes and civilisations were wiped out in mere seconds. I wondered how the world could go back to some form of normalcy years later. It seemed impossible. Even with others like us surviving in bunkers around the world, we all would most likely be confined to concrete coffins for the rest of our days… A decade passed before I could re-enter the outside world, or at least what was left of it. My parents, however, didn’t live to see that day arrive; they remained buried in that concrete coffin. I wondered just how many others like me watched their families fade in such quiet confines—how many were left alone in deafening silence, not knowing if they’d ever feel the warmth of the sun again. When I r...
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A Lost Past

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I struggled to maintain friendships as a child since we were constantly moving from city to city and town to town. Some years, it would be only a couple of times, but in others, it would be even four to five times. I was still in middle school when I started to suspect that something was wrong with my parents; I wondered if they were on the run from the law, and even asked them about it. Mom and Dad said they were shocked that I even suspected such a thing, but I could see in their faces that they were hiding something from me. As the years passed, I became numb to the routine, but once I met someone who became a close friend more than anyone else ever had, and I had to leave her behind as well, I decided it was time for me to investigate my parents. Whenever they were occupied, I went through their phones and laptops, but I found nothing outside work documents and other general topics. Neither of them had social media, and they had strict rules about my having social media as well. I ...
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Shadow Syphoning

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I struggled to open my eyes as my vision blurred with each blink. When the haze finally cleared, I found myself in a hospital room. I tried to sit up, but a sudden jolt of pain shot through my neck and head, forcing me to stay still. It was then that a doctor and a nurse walked into the room and examined me. It pushed through the pain to speak, asking them what had happened to me. The doctor said that I had been in a car crash the night before and was lucky to have survived with relatively minor injuries. I tried to remember the details, but all I saw was darkness; I tried to recall other details, but I was left with emptiness. I couldn’t remember a single detail about myself… The doctor said I was most likely suffering from amnesia. She said my parents were on their way to see me again, and that I should be fine to leave within a day or two. Half an hour passed before my mother and father arrived. They tried to help me remember my past, but nothing jogged my memory. Everything was bla...
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Bent Rules

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My father was a strange and secretive man who would disappear on us for days or weeks without a word and return as if nothing had happened. My younger brother, Alex, and I were still in primary school at the time; we never understood why he disappeared like that, and Mom wouldn’t give us a straight answer either. I don’t think even she knew all the details. As a few years passed, however, Dad’s disappearances became increasingly frequent, and he and Mom often argued when he was back. This led to our parents divorcing, and Mom getting full custody of us because Dad was never around. He was barely even present for his own divorce. After the divorce, we rarely heard from Dad. He would call us once in a few months, but it was always brief. After a few years, we stopped hearing from him altogether. We received no word about his whereabouts, and Mom was worried, but she never told us anything. She knew more than she told us; I was certain of that. When I was fifteen, we received a package th...
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