"Everyone has talent. What is rare is the courage to follow the talent to the dark place where it leads." Erica Jong (American writer and feminist 1942)
The gun fire continued and with relief Yanti saw the mugger turn his gun on his comrades, the smirk on their faces a moment ago as they'd jeered and egged him on to confront her now quickly replaced by surprise and fear as they begin to scatter from the rapid firing gun. One turning too late to run is hit square in the back, falling forward he lets out a small scream and then is silent on the ground. Yanti looked on with a mixture of fascination and disgust, but unable to turn her gaze away. Is this what she can do now? Is this her so-called...
"Talent!...That's what you have my girl!" that was what the producer had said and he'd probably have meant it if he'd realised what she could do when he'd tried it on with her.
Thinking back on the image of him walking down the street still wearing the yellow-tight costume stretched uncomfortable across his lower half still made her smile. Even the ploomed feather sticking out from behind him hadn't slowed his skipping happily along, as passer-bys pointed and laughed. She hadn't thought about it then, how she'd managed to convince him to do it, twisting around his words and thoughts till suddenly he was nodding and generally happy to put on his little creation instead of trying to force it on her.
She supposed you could describe it as patterns. The human mind and its reactions made up of layers and layers of patterns knitted together and intertwined into a mesh of a colourful whole. Except instead of seeing the whole, Yanti had always seen the threads. Studied enough she could work out how to gently pull away a single thread so that it tugged and changed the whole picture, the whole person for a moment at least.
She'd always known it was easy enough to get someone to do something they already wanted to do, whether they knew it or not. Massaging one area of the mind to influence another in unexpected ways. But, it was a whole new game getting them to do something against their nature, to put something specific in their mind that hadn't been there before, patch it together somehow and make it real. Perhaps it was the fact he'd hit her, whacking her squarely across the face as he dropped the garish thing down at her.
"You'll wear what I want you to wear girl!" leering at her his face so close and spitting at her as he spoke. But lying on the floor suddenly she'd wanted to try, she didn't want to convince him she'd do it later, or that he'd much prefer something less like some warped big bird erotica outfit for his show. She wanted him to suffer a bit and then the thought crystalised, she'd let him think he wanted to know what it felt like to be trussed up like a showgirl for himself. It was absurd at the time, but what surprised her most wasn't that she'd succeeded, but that it had been so easy.
Now, looking back across the street Yanti hid behind a dumpster in the side alley watching for the returning mob. She couldn't remember the multiple steps that had taken her from that day to here. She only felt the rapid beating of her heart as she watched the gang all come back looking around for her now. Lastly the dazed gunman walked stumbling back, his eyes still a little glazed from her previous trick and he looked around as if not seeing his surroundings at first, then his eyes fixed on the body still lying in the street and a sudden anguished shout came from him.
"[censored], [censored], geez man...who did this, who...I" and there his voice broke as if he remembered now suddenly and full of horror "oh my god, i didn't mean it man, oh my god, my god." "somebody help, get an ambulance, somebody. Arghh, I'm sorry, oh god I'm sorry bro, I don't know what happened. I just...."
Gunshot echoed past Yanti's face as she'd been fixated on the two men the older one cradling the head of the body lying in a dark pool of blood. He looked up then over at her place, his eyes fixing on her and she looked at their wet rimmed edges. I could make it go away for you...make you think it was all ok, for a while, for a moment. But the thought was swallowed up as she felt another bullet come whizzing over from the gang as they made their way cautiously over to her.
She wrenched her gaze away from the man's eyes, turning to sprint down the alley away from the angry shouts. Guilt reeling through her mind she'd lost the desire to fight today. Yeah talent she thought to herself, if that's what you called it.
Posted
And this is one of your good guys?
A nicely told story, but she thinking of coming over to the darkside? I look forward to how this story develops.
"Everyone has talent. What is rare is the courage to follow the talent to the dark place where it leads." Erica Jong (American writer and feminist 1942)
The gun fire continued and with relief Yanti saw the mugger turn his gun on his comrades, the smirk on their faces a moment ago as they'd jeered and egged him on to confront her now quickly replaced by surprise and fear as they begin to scatter from the rapid firing gun. One turning too late to run is hit square in the back, falling forward he lets out a small scream and then is silent on the ground. Yanti looked on with a mixture of fascination and disgust, but unable to turn her gaze away. Is this what she can do now? Is this her so-called...
"Talent!...That's what you have my girl!" that was what the producer had said and he'd probably have meant it if he'd realised what she could do when he'd tried it on with her.
Thinking back on the image of him walking down the street still wearing the yellow-tight costume stretched uncomfortable across his lower half still made her smile. Even the ploomed feather sticking out from behind him hadn't slowed his skipping happily along, as passer-bys pointed and laughed. She hadn't thought about it then, how she'd managed to convince him to do it, twisting around his words and thoughts till suddenly he was nodding and generally happy to put on his little creation instead of trying to force it on her.
She supposed you could describe it as patterns. The human mind and its reactions made up of layers and layers of patterns knitted together and intertwined into a mesh of a colourful whole. Except instead of seeing the whole, Yanti had always seen the threads. Studied enough she could work out how to gently pull away a single thread so that it tugged and changed the whole picture, the whole person for a moment at least.
She'd always known it was easy enough to get someone to do something they already wanted to do, whether they knew it or not. Massaging one area of the mind to influence another in unexpected ways. But, it was a whole new game getting them to do something against their nature, to put something specific in their mind that hadn't been there before, patch it together somehow and make it real. Perhaps it was the fact he'd hit her, whacking her squarely across the face as he dropped the garish thing down at her.
"You'll wear what I want you to wear girl!" leering at her his face so close and spitting at her as he spoke. But lying on the floor suddenly she'd wanted to try, she didn't want to convince him she'd do it later, or that he'd much prefer something less like some warped big bird erotica outfit for his show. She wanted him to suffer a bit and then the thought crystalised, she'd let him think he wanted to know what it felt like to be trussed up like a showgirl for himself. It was absurd at the time, but what surprised her most wasn't that she'd succeeded, but that it had been so easy.
Now, looking back across the street Yanti hid behind a dumpster in the side alley watching for the returning mob. She couldn't remember the multiple steps that had taken her from that day to here. She only felt the rapid beating of her heart as she watched the gang all come back looking around for her now. Lastly the dazed gunman walked stumbling back, his eyes still a little glazed from her previous trick and he looked around as if not seeing his surroundings at first, then his eyes fixed on the body still lying in the street and a sudden anguished shout came from him.
"[censored], [censored], geez man...who did this, who...I" and there his voice broke as if he remembered now suddenly and full of horror "oh my god, i didn't mean it man, oh my god, my god." "somebody help, get an ambulance, somebody. Arghh, I'm sorry, oh god I'm sorry bro, I don't know what happened. I just...."
Gunshot echoed past Yanti's face as she'd been fixated on the two men the older one cradling the head of the body lying in a dark pool of blood. He looked up then over at her place, his eyes fixing on her and she looked at their wet rimmed edges. I could make it go away for you...make you think it was all ok, for a while, for a moment. But the thought was swallowed up as she felt another bullet come whizzing over from the gang as they made their way cautiously over to her.
She wrenched her gaze away from the man's eyes, turning to sprint down the alley away from the angry shouts. Guilt reeling through her mind she'd lost the desire to fight today. Yeah talent she thought to herself, if that's what you called it.