Riser

Riser Chapter Zero

Year: 2320

Okay, let me explain. My gift, or curse (I'll let you decide for yourself) to put it simply is: I can raise the dead. I know, sounds cheesy, but fortunately, or unfortunately it is true, and I don't mean just people. Basically, anything that had any kind of life: plants, animals, insects, plankton, anything, I can bring back. The only catch is, they're not really alive anymore they're just animated, like zombies I guess, but I control them. Plants are the easiest. My mom's garden is the prize of the trailer park, and she should take no credit whatsoever.

Animals and people are more complicated, maybe because there are so many working parts. I'm really not sure. My ability is still kind of a mystery to me. I have no clue why I have this power. It's not like I've ever heard of anyone else having this particular skill either, except in books and movies. I appear to be an anomaly in this world...

I was three-years-old when I knew I saw things differently than everyone else. My pet goldfish, Larry, died and a black spinning hole appeared in the center of his body. I thought it was just about the coolest thing I had ever seen. When I told my mother about it, she gave me a look that I'd never forget. It was a mixture of confusion and horror. She simply nodded and made me promise that I would never under any circumstances tell anyone else about what I saw. I was instantly ashamed and scared at her reaction, but something in the way that she had said it made me keep my promise.

After that, I saw the black holes everywhere, from the tiniest dead insects, to the neighbor's dog when he was hit by a hover car (don't ask), to Ms. Thompkins when she died from a heart attack. The churning black masses had become second nature to me by then. At that point, I still didn't know why I could see them and I was scared to death to talk to anyone about it. I kept to myself mostly, afraid I would slip and say something to a neighbor or friend.

It was a very lonely childhood.

It wasn't until I killed my stepfather Bruce that I figured out that I could raise the dead. I never wanted to take Bruce's life: hurt maybe, kill no. And that was saying a lot seeing as he used to use my mom as a punching bag. He'd make me sit in the corner of our beat up trailer and watch him kick the living crap out of her. He'd laugh when I'd scream, he'd laugh when she'd scream, he'd laugh when he'd scream on the few occasions my mom fought back and actually inflicted pain on him.

Bruce was a jerk, but he didn't deserve to die, not like he did, not like how I killed him. I still can't believe it had been eleven years since it all happened. It felt like yesterday and forever ago all at once.

It was a day like any other day, Mom did some invisible transgression to piss Bruce off and he took it as a cue for another beating. Mom was having one of her comatose days, where I could tell she was just going to take it and hope that he got bored quickly from her unresponsiveness.

Bruce slammed her against the flimsy trailer wall of the kitchen with his beefy forearm. Tiny bits of ceiling floated down like snow on his greasy balding scalp. He sneered at her with glee, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of eye contact. She just kept her eyes down, arms dropped harmlessly at her side. Bruce went on a furious rampage. He punched her, pulled her hair, kicked her stomach, tried anything to get a response out of her, but she just lay there like a rag doll on the peeling linoleum floor.

Then he wheeled around to face me.

"NO!"

Finally, a reaction from my mother. Bruce was in ecstasy. He stormed towards me like an enraged bull. I could almost see steam coming out of his bulbous nose. Then WHACK!

I could literally feel every vertebra in my spine as all forty-five pounds of me slammed against the wall from the impact of Bruce's fist to my stomach. My world started to spin; everything was in blurred double vision. My mother's hysterical screams echoed in my head like a horrific nightmare. I couldn't focus.