Training

  Chapter 3

  The next day I awoke bright and early. I was excited because school would begin the following week. I looked out my window and saw the sun shining brightly over head. I jumped out of bed and went to take a shower.

  After getting my morning toiletries out of the way, I headed downstairs to find some breakfast. My mom normally cooked breakfast every other morning in the summertime. This was the other morning and I was regulated to either cereal or a bagel. I chose cereal. My imaginary friend Terrie would be outside waiting for me. My dad was already hard at work on the farm and my mom was in her sewing room making a memory blanket for me.

  I called out to my mom to let her know I was headed outside. She called back to me to be careful, this was our normal exchange in the morning. My dog Rex would often trail along behind me and Terrie when we went on our adventure walks. I was enjoying that particular day with Terrie when I felt the need to go home for lunch. I found my parents at the kitchen table huddled over that day’s newspaper.

  “What are you two reading so intently?” I asked as I walked into our kitchen.

  They both looked up, surprised that I had caught them off guard.

  “Agnes, after you touched Marcus Franklin and saw what he had done to his family and what he was planning to do, what did you think about?” asked my father. “I need you to be specific. What were your thoughts exactly?”

  A tremor cursed through my body and I knew that it had happened again. I slowly sat down at the kitchen table and faced my parents before I began to speak. “My first thought was that he should die instead of his family. I thought he should die in the same way he was planning on killing his wife and children.”

  “How was he planning on killing his family?” asked my father looking me in the eyes.

  “He was going to set a gas leak that would cause an explosion at their home. His son had these shoes that would always get a spark when he tapped them against the metal border separating the kitchen from the dining room. His son liked creating the spark and any time he came into the kitchen he did it. Marcus had never reprimanded his son for doing it because his wife complained about it. He wanted her to be miserable no matter what. It’s partly what gave him the idea of a gas explosion. He knew that the sparks would connect with the gas and cause the explosion,” I said somberly. “Why?”

  My dad handed me the morning paper. In big bold captions it read:

  “Prominent Lawyer Killed in Explosion”

  I read the story slowly, not quite believing what I was reading.

  Marcus Franklin, a partner at the Law Firm of Stillian, Josephson, and Black was found dead in his Georgian styled home last night. The fire department was responding to a report of an explosion at his home. When they arrived, the house was in flames. Once the fire was contained, firemen entered the home and found Mr. Franklin inside. Neighbors said that he had been complaining of a gas leak in the home but there were no records to show that he had filed a complaint with the gas company.

  Mr. Franklin was found in the kitchen on the floor with several welts all over his body, it appears he tried to fix the gas leak coming from his stove and accidentally caused the explosion. The coroner has determined that a tack embedded in Mr. Franklin’s shoe caused a spark while he was trying to fix the gas leak. It hasn't been determined how the welts came to be on his body. Mrs. Franklin and their twins, Joanna and John had left earlier in the day to visit her parents.

 

  By the time I had finished reading the newspaper article, my face had turned pale.

  My father looked at me, “Did you have a dream last night?”

  “Yes, but it wasn’t about Mr. Franklin or his family. My dream was about my first day of college. Mom, Dad, I was fine when we came home last night. I knew Mrs. Franklin and the children were gone from the house and I didn’t have to worry about them getting hurt again,” I said solemnly.

  “So your first bad thought actually came true without you dreaming about it. It seems that your talent is no longer confined to your dreams, but has expanded to your conscious mind,” said my father haltingly. He exchanged a strange look with my mother.

  I slumped down at the kitchen table, shock and awe written all over my face. I had caused the death of someone bad by simply thinking it. What would I do if my parents made me mad? Would I wish something bad would happen to them? Is any thought that I have safe? Why don’t any of my good thoughts ever come to fruition? As I sat at the table I realized that I had to be careful what I thought of people. It seemed that only my bad thoughts came true, never anything good, I contemplated to myself.

  My parents had no idea that I had wished that Mr. Franklin received bruises on his arms like the ones his son John had on his body. I couldn't bring myself to tell them why he was found with welts on his body. I would soon realize that my father knew because he had read my mind.

  “Agnes we’re going to have to do more training with you. We have to train your mind to find the good, before the bad in every situation. If your thoughts carry the weight of life and death, you must always be cognizant of what you are thinking,” said my father looking at my mother.

  My mind was reeling with the realization that for the second time in my life I had killed someone. Even though it was unintentional, I was responsible for another person’s death. I shook my head acknowledging my father’s words but at the same time I knew I was a dangerous person to be around.

  My father decided to voice my fears to my mother who wasn’t reading my mind at that time. “No sweetheart, you aren’t a dangerous person to be around. Your mother and I have been a presence in your life, all your life and we are still here. You have to understand that everyone has thoughts that can be dangerous. Some people bring those thoughts to fruition knowing the ramifications of their actions, they have a choice. You were unaware that your thoughts could do harm. Now that you are aware, you have to be careful with your thoughts. When you were eleven and mole mouth and strong man died, we thought you had dreamed the whole incident even though there was evidence that showed they had gotten into the house. We believed it was a dream but we couldn't figure out how you got dirty or how there were dirty footprints in your bedroom. We still can't explain how you got back into your room and your own bed."

  My mother sat by me holding my hand all the while my father spoke to me. I felt somewhat better but I needed some time alone to digest what I had just learned about myself. I excused myself from the kitchen and went to my room. I had the sneaky suspicion that I might not be attending school so soon after all.

  I lay down on my bed and cried, more for myself and my parents than for anyone else. I resolved to think only good thoughts and to watch shows that had positive results. I didn't want the responsibility of life and death to rule me, so I became intent on ruling it.