Writing Challenge – Prompt#2: “Turning Leaves”
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Nicolette Louis was three years old when her hands turned into branches. The scream of terror her mother made that autumn evening forever haunts their street. Neighbors rushed out the door, some with sharp hands. They are called the Blades.
“She too isn’t like them,” they murmured, “first the boy bursting into flames, now her”
“Are they even hers?”
“It’s the father,” the blades harshly whispered, “he isn’t from around here”
Nicolette was five when Mr. Turner D’Aoust visited her parents. He promised there was a place designed to help little Nicolette with her gifts. It was the same promise given to the family just a few months ago when Nicholas had burned his toys.
“You must reconsider,” D’Aoust insisted, “it will benefit your son just as much as her”
“You haven’t told us if they’ll be safe,” pleaded their mother, “they didn’t choose their abilities”
“It’s for their safety,” D’Aoust lied.
Nicolette was five and a half when she saw her brother’s eye burn with rage at their parents as they debated their future. Nicholas saw the same hatred for him in their eyes for Nicolette. His innocent sister, cursed like him to be blessed with branches instead of blades.
“Turner isn’t one to trust,” snarked their father, “The kids will not be safe”
“They aren’t safe here,” replied their mother. “If they stay here, we’ll have to move out!”
Nicolette was seven when her mother’s garden overgrew poison ivy and black-eye Susans. Nicolette’s tears streamed down her face as she watched her brother reluctantly leave with Mr. D’Aoust. Her only balm was her brother’s parting words
“Don’t cry, Nicolette,” he reassured, “we will see each other soon.”
Nicolette was eight when flames hugged her branches, licking at anyone who tried to touch her. Mr. D’Aoust dragged her out of the house, a few days later, thorns digging into his hands, and the smell of burned leather tainted the fresh spring air.
“You will regret this,” cursed Nicolette, “the fire and wood you are so afraid of will be your downfall”
Nicolette was ten when she saw her brother again. Flames danced around his head, spiraling down to his shoulders. A smile adorned his face as his sister ran up to him, not caring about the flames. D’Aoust had promised they could see each other if they behaved. Behave they did, down to pretending to swallow the purple pills that would turn them normal.
“We will get out,” whispered Nicholas, “just don’t swallow the pills. Father told me they will take away our powers.”
“You trust father?”
“Father didn’t want this,” he calmly explained, “he was against this because he went through this.”
Nicolette was twelve when, with the aid of her brother, she combusted Mr. D’Aoust. Nicolette smeared his ashes over her arms and legs and screamed as her veins grew hotter. The one request from their father: to recover his powers.
“You take it all,” Nicholas denied as Nicolette reached out to hand him some of the ashes. “I can’t grow branches like you”
“Then take just a bit, so branches don’t harm you too”
Nicholas allowed Nicolette to put some of the ashes across his cheekbones.
Nicolette was thirteen when hot amber rock roses grew as she walked home. Nicholas humorlessly grew black-eyed Susans when they entered their old neighborhood. The residents hid once they realized who had arrived. Not even the Blades would come out.
“My kids” greeted their mother with open arms. Arms that remained empty.
“This is yours,” Nicolette said, handing some of the ashes they agreed to return to their father.
“If it accepts me,” said their father, dipping into the ashes. It did not accept him. The power consumed him and floated to the twins.
The twins left their mother weeping by the burned footsteps of her husband.
At fifteen, the Blades ventured into the forest searching for the twins. They didn’t like how dense the forest had grown; not even their strongest Blade could cut through.
Nicolette and her brother knocked on their mother’s front door, covered in red and silver.
“I knew you’d come back,” she smiled, eyes watering, “all I wanted was to protect you.”
Ashes fell from the sky, wood crackling, warming the chilly fall sunset. Nicolette sat by the steps of the porch, leaves turning in her hands. Her brother sat beside her, watching his sister smile for the first time in years. Happy to freely use her powers.
~~~
Happy Holidays! Hope you enjoyed this story. It’s unintentionally giving Layla Williams and Warren Peace.
If by any chance you find the original creators of any of the pictures attached, please let me know. I try to look for them, but the beauty of Pinterest is that no one tags the og creator (note: sarcasm)
Here you can find the previous story
and here for early access
Take care!
– Ivi