It was a heavenly warmth that washed over her when life trickled down her fingers and into her father, weak from the wrath of leukemia. It was a blessing she kept secret, for she knew what would come to her when her family and her nation knew. It came to her in a dream, the details of which already lost from her grasp. But she is reminded every time she touches a fresh wound from her knee, the way the scars and the itch fade into nonexistence.
Would it work for him? Oh she hoped it would work for him, she prayed to God that night. She would be a good girl, a steward of His blessing, if her gift can heal the pain of others.
Her home exploded into happiness the moment she woke up. And she knew it was true. She could save many lives and it would be a blessing. But when her father grabbed her and hugged her out of joy, she felt his grasp slip away. And upon a smile, she fainted.
She was bedridden for a week. Her father, who have never felt so alive, took care of her day and night. Of all the things she want to do with him, she could only smile. But there are times when her smile would bear weight on her body.
She tried not to be affected by the quarrels that swept over their home. Her mother planned to bring her to the hospital, but her father would remind her of their debts. Last night, she heard his older brother shout at both their parents. He banged their door and drove in his big bike.
Early the next morning, father brought her the cage of her pet nightingale, which he caught last week in the park. It sang to her sweetly. With the little strength she had, she reached out to it, hoping to bring it to her lap.
But the song began to wash through her fingers, through her chest. It sparked through her body. It wasn’t as strong as the rush that she gave to her father. Nor was it a warmth she wanted. She could finally muster a deep breath and a shudder as the nightingale fell down, lifeless. And the song trembled for a second through her senses, until it became hers. She sat up, grabbed the caged. “Please don’t die on me,” she said, touching the feathers with her fingers. But she felt cold; her fingers hunger for more.
December 31, 2013
You have been transformed into a mystical being who has the ability to do magic. Share your new abilities in detail. How will you use your new skills?
This was the prompt that was supposed to appear today. Apparently it was not; which is a good thing. It is more appropriate for the occasion, as we wait for the time our clock strikes to another year. Anyhow, if this prompt appears, I’d be linking to it. If not, then I guess it makes for a good post.
I am bored though. It could have been better; since she is a character I want to build through in a novel series. At least I have put into words a glimpse of her dangerous skill, right? At least.
I do hope the prompts retain its pacing with the ebook though.
Happy New Year!
Update for January 1: The prompt appears today. Let me link to it through here. Hope you enjoy.