Untouched (Untouched #1)(Old Work)

Chapter Two

The figure had blinked.

Frightened, Ellen stood rigidly still. This was like a scene from a horror movie. Unfortunately for her, she was no part of it.

The figure presumably took a step towards her because more of it – him – became visible. Long, metallic-silver hair grew from his scalp and fell mid-way down his back. His eyes, although difficult to make out, appeared to be a cold, steel-blue almost grey. His face was long and pointed; his cheeks angled, and nose chiseled and pointed. He had a pale complexion, almost translucent.

The stranger held a glass in his hand which looked to be filled with bronze spirits. Whiskey? She didn't know. The glass looked haunting though as it glinted from the fire. A black, shimmering robe hung from his slender, tall frame and pooled around him on the floor.

"A drink?" he offered, extending his hand towards the table between the armchairs. Ellen stared at disbelief. A silver tray had appeared, complete with a tumbler and several decanters containing liquids of different colours. She stared at disbelief – had this been here earlier or was she oblivious to it being there all along?

"No thank-you," she declined. "I'm not even of age to be drinking." Her voice was but a stammer from the fear that struck her heart.

What appeared to be laughter lines formed at the man's eyes and he let out a chuckle. But as quickly as it happened, he regained his mysterious composure.

"Well, at least sit down then."

Ellen did as she was instructed and took the armchair closest to the fire. It was more comfortable than she had expected. He sat on the arm of the other chair and gazed down his pointed nose at her. His voice returned to its musical and gentle state. "You are of age, Ellen."

"I'm sixteen," she argued. "That's not –."

He held a finger up to stop her, amusement dancing across his eyes.

"Tell me," he paused. One of his eyebrows shifted upwards. "Have things been happening that you can't explain? You wish for something to happen, and it does? Almost like magic?"

"There is no such thing as magic."

"Correct. We don't do magic. That's child's play but it's a stretch to say that it doesn't exist."

He clasped his hands together. Ellen had the faint impression that he was waiting for her to say something.

The man lamented on the fact that she seemed too stunned to say anything. By this stage, other gifted teenagers would have laughed and thought this was a joke; an entire figment of their dreams. They had a bit of a rebellious irk to them. Made it more entertaining but difficult to handle in the long run. Those that were frightened beyond their wits were returned back into a submissive dream-like state and then woken as if remembering an unrelated nightmare.

Only.

Ellen was taking it quite well. She was self-controlled and cautious.  He knew those types too. She would listen and decide if this was real or just a dream later on. When he was certain she wasn't going to say anything, he progressed onwards. Now for the real test, the part that most found hardest to handle. He watched as her face remained composed and waiting.

"When you turn ten years old, you undergo monitoring by one of our kind." He elaborated on the our. It was important to distinguish the difference.

"If you portray desirable characteristics such as logic and wisdom, strength and loyalty, you get marked and acquire – get bestowed upon, for the want of a better term - a certain set of skills on your sixteenth birthday. It's much like coming of age. Generally people can't draw the linkages together between what happens on the ground and physical possibility of it happening but you were quick to put the pieces together. I commend you for that."

Ellen had a look of confusion on her face. She was still trying to put these pieces together however, it was difficult because it didn't make much sense. She rubbed her temples, trying to let everything sink in.

"I thought these sorts of things were handed down through families? You know, like bloodlines? At least, that's what books I've read were like..." she began.

"But this isn't a fiction book." His answer was so simple, so blunt and unsatisfying that disappointment welled inside her. Ellen slouched into the back of the chair.

"Those abilities that we give you are very real. With the proper training and education, they can affect everything and everyone around you and change their life paths." He spoke the last sentence as if it was a warning not to be taken lightly. "You can influence and alter the near future but it does come with a burden – you can't change the past."

He stood up on his feet and put his glass on the table.

"It's getting late. I trust we will be seeing each other again in the near future." He made his way to the doorway and looked back at Ellen, his robe trailing behind him. "For the time being, please be careful with what you wish for until you learn to control yourself. Good night."

She blinked once but he had already disappeared into the darkness.

Ellen stirred in her bed, opening her eyes. She let them adjust to the bright morning light that was filtering through her window and came to realise that she had fallen asleep in the clothes that she wore the previous afternoon. There was a faint buzzing coming from outside. Someone was mowing their lawn on this fresh Sunday morning.

She lingered in her bed for a while longer, staring at the blank ceiling and struggled to remember the details of the dream that she had the previous evening. It was an interesting one; a man had told her that she had been given powers that could let her control the world around her. She mused about this for a while longer before pulling herself out from beneath the blankets and planting her feet firmly on the carpet.

"My name is Ellen," she told herself. "And I am an ordinary sixteen year old girl."

Making her way to her dresser, she pulled out a casual t-shirt and shorts that she only ever wore around the house. They weren't the dressy, well-maintained type that she wore in public and she wasn't planning on doing anything outside of the four walls.

With these in hand, she started for the door but stepped on something small and sharp. Tears welled in her eyes, and she dropped the clothes onto her desk to free her hands so she could massage her foot. Her left hand clumsily brushed against the stack of books and they scattered all over the floor around her. There was a small, grey metal object laying there which was the perpetrator of the throbbing foot. 

Cursing, she bent down and picked it up. The metal cold was cold against her fingertips.

It was a trinket; a man crouching under a rearing horse. 

Last night's dream instantly rushed back to her. It really did happen. Ellen let out a deep sigh as all the questions and feeling of puzzlement reawakened within her like wildfire. It plunged her back into a feeling of limbo and despair.

"Maybe I'm not so ordinary after all."