Night and Day

Chapter 9: Delilah

I wanted the truth. I feared it, and I chose to ignore it. I would experiment with my power, using it for good. I would put down my pencil and refuse to write another sentence. Soon I would go mad with contradictions; I would only lie here, debating and cursing myself, while the world went on without me. I could try something-a tiny joke, just to see. I should have sold my paper and pens or even burned them. What if my "power" fell into the wrong hands? It could be that hideous coincidence followed me like death itself. I might have even dreamed up all the details of my new nightmares. There was no way to be certain, unless I gave it a shot.

I sat up with a sigh. It was still dawn; the sun was yet to rise, but the sky was lightening. A blue haze of homes and shadow trees, the neighbourhood was pleasantly calm. Even the cars did not stir, nor the birds. All was silent and I could feel the thrum of nothingness about me. One could have heard a pin drop and I kept the silence as I whispered downstairs, taking meticulous care with each creaking step.

While I went to the television to flip through the myriad selection Netflix offered, Bonbon kept me company. Instantly affectionate, she was purring and rubbing my legs with her head. Smiling, I returned her greetings and scratched beneath her chin, her favourite spot. Jealous, Snake appeared as well and, upon noticing the intruder, Bonbon began to hiss. I tried to calm the senior cat, trailing my hands over her bumpy spine, but her hackles were raised and her fur was puffed out. Snake only stared, daring as ever.

"You two be nice to each other now. It's only temporary, Bonbon, and then she'll be gone. Hopefully without breaking anything else." Snake had successfully shattered several plates the night before, and a vase the day before that. Having been here only a few days, the cat was paving an abundant path of destruction. The cat was carnage in action and play; she showed no empathy for my mom, who even now was growing tense with her losses.

I heard Nathan mumble in his sleep, but otherwise he did not wake. I liked to listen to the sounds of the house. I enjoyed the hum of the fridge, the mumble of a man on the television when the volume was too low to discern his words. All if it filled me with inspiration, and I wanted so terribly to describe it, but the very thought of writing shattered that calm and set my heart to pounding like a pair of horse's hooves. I was terrified of what I might do.

Cautious, I opened up my tablet and clicked on Word. I wondered at some of my earlier tales and shuddered to think that they might have been true. I had always written of distant places, of bereaved characters suffering the very worst of indignities. Had I only recently developed this power...or had I only just discovered it, due to my thoughts drifting closer to home? I wanted to believe that the gift was new, but part of me wondered yet; while my characters suffered within the pages, did some poor innocents live parallel lives on this world, cursing fate as it was?

I scribbled down one sentence.

The snow began to fall; the flakes were fat and abundant and the snow would not stop.

Outside the window, the white sprinkles came, all large, and all clustered. A plethora of ice, the snow fell with perfect timing.

"Impossible," I breathed.

The snow quickly turned to rain and the downpour was torrential.

The suddenly melted storm pounded our roof, causing it to creak. Thinking suddenly of the leak points in our roof, I wrote some more.

Then, as if it had never happened, the rain and the snow and the slush all stopped. There was nothing now but the shriek of wind battering the trees, whistling.

Our wind chimes sang, creating a violent song.

I stared at my page, and then I deleted the document. I had made mistakes, to be sure, but I could control this. I could just as easily undo what I had started. If I made a storm, I could take it away. The power was mine to command.