First, there was darkness, something I've been used to all my life. It soothes me- it is the only home I know.
But then came a blinding light followed by the thundering sound of rain, reverberating like a thousand drums being struck simultaneously.
As the sound rescinded, the shrill chirps of birds followed. Then colour began to fill in like a spectrum of light. And when it was over, I saw myself.
Well, a younger version of me...
"Arlen, try again. You can do it." Her voice was as lively as I recalled it. I couldn't see her face, but I saw the boy she was talking to, an impatient little troublemaker who kept killing the lovely orchids in his mother's garden, burning them to a crisp with a single touch.
Mother strived to teach me how to control my abilities- to save the things I wish to protect or preserve.
I leaned against a wall and watched myself fail repeatedly, withering those flowers. I didn't mean to; it was just out of my control back then.
