💾 Archived View for spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › stories › bullove.txt captured on 2023-06-16 at 20:33:13.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Three Paragraphs Excerpts from Something The prize-winning journalist Stephen King might have likened her to Carrie. Oh yes, Carrie was the flame that sparked the formation of the Illuminati Project. When that girl's story broke out in the news media, a wealthy philanthropist took it upon himself to lay down millions of dollars to create a boarding school for "special" kids. This school would be staffed by brillant minds from all of the scientific disciplines, but as you might guess, those knowledgable about the workings of the mind felt we were their concern. Our parents gladly allowed us to go there, where we wouldn't constantly be seen as freaks who frightened normal folks. Those in high government offices, interested in the potential contribution to national defense we could make, not only fully approved of the Project and all its details, they also dispatched military officials to work with us. Brainy little marines, that's what we could be, yes? Psychic warriors destined to become exotic battlefield weapons. I recall the times in 8th grade, when the rest of our Thought Perception class were given a break to go to the bathroom or drink water, Beth and I would stay by ourselves in the room. She'd sometimes get up and walk over to talk with me, and I'd observe that- no; you didn't have to die to go to heaven. I think I could've coped if we somehow got frozen in a time warp and stayed by each other, talking forever. We chattered on about everything, but when the class began filing back in she'd disappear to her desk on the other side of the room. She would return to her reading her book (because she always carried a good book to read to school, favoring books on witches) and I would sit and wish all these people would just vanish and leave us alone. One day she heard me thinking! I knew she had; I felt her mind probing my thoughts. She gazed at me, and said telepathically, MAYBE WE SHOULD. "What?" MAYBE WE SHOULD... MAKE THEM DISAPPEAR. "Oh... can you really do that? No, Beth! No!" Surely she wasn't that powerful! It was impossible, anyway, I knew it. There were certain things beyond the scope even of psychic minds. Stories and rumors to the contrary were merely common superstition. DON'T BE SILLY! WATCH ME DO IT. Whoosh! I saw a burst of violent colors, swirling in front of me, buzzing loudly. A thick mist rapidly flew across the room, and I felt motion; I felt my body accelerate from still to light speed. I heard something far away go "pop", and when I looked again I saw the classroom just as it was before. Nothing had happened. The kids were reading their texts, and the instructor continued typing data into the class terminal. Strange, that they had noticed nothing- then I saw... and I cried in terror! Oh God, what had she done? I began to shake in mortal fear. "No, tell me we're not dead! Tell me that! Beth, what have you done?" With a look of remorse, she eased her arms around me. IT'S NOTHING, JAMES. WE CAN GO BACK. WE'RE IN A SAFE PLACE INSIDE OUR MINDS, AND WE CAN RETURN TO OUR BODIES WHENEVER WE FEEL LIKE IT. JAMES- she touched my face -WE'RE ALRIGHT. The fear suddenly passed away as I peered into her eyes. I believed her, and I knew then that we were in love. Some day, I know... I can faintly see a day approaching through the haze of time, coming to me, coming for us, bringing us together forever. I call through the endless span of time, and I can barely hear a whisper coming back, saying softly, "Yes, James. I hear you, and I want you to know this: There is a day in the future... Hold on to your hopes, because it will come, as surely as the Sun rises across the morning sky and warms the cold, dark Earth... we will meet again, and Summer will be the season of the rest of our lives." Her apparition appears before me, shockingly, and she winks an eye and smiles before gradually fading away. I know that I will keep trying to reach her, until old age robs me of my gifts, until these bones of mine wither to dust.