“How do you know this is the place I died?” I ask, skeptical.
You question me? Her eyes are the color of roses and blood.
“No, ma’am,” I cringe, as her eyes soften and she turns back to the very few feet my body is still positioned, buried underneath snow. I’m even wearing the same clothes, though now they blend with my smoky skin. “Can I know your name so I don’t have to call you ma’am all the time?”
It’s Carlana. Her eyes are a deep, dark purple.
“Ok...so no, Carlana, I don’t question you,” I reply, feeling uneasy.
Good. Her eyes turn to a muted sunset, mixing the hues of daisies and sunflowers into her eyes.
“Now, just wait a minute…” I falter when her eyes change color once again. Does her mood reflect in her eyes? The fact that the eyes are the windows to the soul must be literal in the world of soriers.
What now?
“I thought soriers only have three powers.”
Her expression shifts from anger, to annoyance, to almost laughter of my cluelessness.
Think about it. I have the power to exchange powers between anyone. I do that with all powers that exist - all in our world.
“That’s pretty lucky,” I grumble, and she shoots an icy glare as cold as the ice forming on the soil beneath us.
Luck doesn’t exist in the sorier’s world. Special is just a code word for curse. That is merely what I am myself-a curse. Her orbs are a soft, caramel brown, her small lips drooping down..
“Not really,” I shrug, still shuddering from the sight of my corpse laying on the ground before me.
Believe me, and do not judge against me right now. Fiery eyes once more melt away the brown she had previously. Now, what do you remember?
“Not really anything, just falling into the snow, waking up, and finding that stupid bullet in my chest,” I groan, in annoyance of the curiosity still burning in my stomach of who murdered me.
She gives me a sly look, her eyes the color of fox’s fur. Would you like to find out?
Another snap of her delicate fingers, and the trees shake off their encasing of white, the liquid turning into a torrential downpour of snow falling to the ground.
“What are you doing?” I question warily, moving away from the avalanche that’s now sprinting towards the two of us.
Stay put. Don’t move! I hear the desperate tone in her voice, as I hear a screeching like the brakes of a car, and suddenly, I cannot move. Frozen, like the ice had somehow reached my veins, turning muscles to ice.
YOU ARE READING
Five Minutes
Paranormal"That's when I heard a pop, and the daughter stood stock-still. I saw her look down at her chest, wondering what had happened-but I already knew. She collapsed, falling into a heap of snow. Her mother cried out weakly, seeing her little girl with...
