The first day I realised I could touch the sun was a bright one. It was meant to be happy and celebrations were to be thrown, I was supposed to be happy.
After a whole day of being sang "Happy Birthday" and birthday bumps, I was finally home. My eleventh birthday would be my best yet, I was so sure. Everything had gone so right, I had laughed with my friends, I had smiled.
I was happy in those little moments, little me was so happy.
Until that evening, when it was six o' clock in the evening, and the sun was setting slowly over the horizon. The flowers were half-lit and half-shaded, the grass still so green, smelling of spring.
I rushed out into the backyard, and sat on the little bench overlooking the flowerbed in which my dad was working on at that moment, rosebuds, tulips, sunflowers, all being planted, awaiting a gorgeous and full summer.
He didn't notice me sit down, or watch. His gloves became dirtier the more he planted, his shirt wasn't even slick with sweat, and his gardening pants too were coated in dirt. He worked on the bed, and smiled, so happy. Everybody was happy today, he loved doing this, loved doing what he loved, and I loved that.
So much love for a little monster.
He stood, brushing off the dirt from his gloves and his pants, and glanced at me. He smiled, taking off his gloves and picking me up from the bench. He poked my nose with his finger, and I giggled, he laughed.
"How's the birthday girl?" he said.
"Goooooood"
"So, what's the plan for tonight? Watch a few movies and cook up some popcorn?"
"Yes, please!" I said with such joy.
He smiled, and threw me into the air, "Fly, Aria, you can fly."
I exclaimed, shouting "Dad! Dad!" but got used to the sensation of flying.
I splayed up my fingers, extending my arms to their full length.
And I touched the sun.
I could feel it, somehow. I could feel the fiery ball, and it didn't burn. I held it in my hands, I actually held it.
Then I let go, falling back into my dad's arms. I steadied myself with his shoulder, and touched an exposed part of his neck.
One moment later his mouth drops open, his eyes become darker, and wider. His mouth gapes, and he drops me to the floor, screaming, "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU? WHERE AM I? WHERE AM I?"
He clawed at his face as if something were burning him, I scampered away, crying. I had no idea what on earth was happening.
His skin then appeared scaly, and little dances of fire played at each scale. He screamed in agony, the little flames engulfing him.
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU? WHO THE HELL ARE YOU? WHERE THE HELL AM I?" he continued to scream, dying.
I yelled for my mom, and she came running out into the garden, still in an apron slacked his barbeque sauce. She screamed when she saw my dad, and collapsed to her knees at his side. Tears I hadn't noticed streamed down my face, splashing helplessly at the floor. My mother touched him – and her finger burned. She yelled out in pain, but my father was dying, screaming like a crazed man in pure and utter agony.
My mom yelled at me to call an ambulance, and I ran inside, knowing it'd be too late by the time it would arrive. I picked up the phone anyway, hoping maybe he'd survive long enough for the ambulance to get here. I picked up the phone, my breathing unnerving with each number I pressed. 911.
"Hello, 911, what's your emergency."
My voice came out shaky and almost breathless, "It's my f-father. I don't k-know what's happening," I blurted a choked sob, "he's...burning, I don't know how, please, please send help immediately."
"Of course, miss, could you please tell us where this is happening."
I blurted my address, and the lady on the other end of the phone said they'd send an ambulance to us and they'd get there as fast as possible. I put the phone down, and turned to the glass door to my backyard, and it seemed as though my heart completely stopped for that one second.
My father's flames were completely out, and he was lying quietly on the grass. I hadn't noticed that his screaming had stopped, and my mother was crying on his shoulder, sobbing harder than I thought was possible.
I ran back out, and stopped beside my mom, bursting into tears as I looked down at my father's dead body. I was too late, everything was too late. How on earth had this happened? How? He was just throwing me into the air, then...then I literally touched the sun even though it was further away than any human mind could ever comprehend.
I touched my mother's hand which was held out for me, her other hand covered her mouth. She squeezed tight, and then let go immediately.
She turned to me, her face already showing the flamed scales. I screamed, and stumbled backwards, falling onto the ground. My mother jumped on me, her hands wrapped around my throat, squeezing tighter and tighter.
When she touched my father, she had been burned. But now that she was touching me, I realised I felt no burn, no heat at all, just the air being taken out of me.
I clawed at her hands while she pressed down on my throat harder and harder, screaming "WHO.ARE.YOU?!"
It became harder and harder to breathe, and then black stars were covering my vision, my mother was being engulfed in the flames like my father.
The hands at my throat let go, all pressure released. I breathed in, and out, in and out, until my vision became clear again. My mother was on top of me, dead.
I moved out from under her, and lied on the ground, too shocked to even get up. My energy was completely gone, and it was still a struggle to breathe.
I could hear the ambulance from a few hundred metres away, wailing excruciatingly loudly. A few seconds later it was parked outside the front of my house, then five police guards came storming through the back door, looking at everything.
A man, completely burned and singed like his wife, and a girl, completely unscathed, staring at the stars and realising one thing: I had burned my mother and father. When I touched that damned sun, something inside me had awoken, and I had killed, unaware of what would happen.
I knew one thing for the truth, one sickening, awful thing that the police or anyone would probably never know, or ever guess: I had killed my family.
