Timmy
Robert Francis Dorey

This is a new story; a story about a little boy.  Not just any little boy, this was Timmy.  Timmy was huge where it counts – the mind.  He had powers that were nearly unimaginable.  Timmy had the power to think of a story and have it come true.  However, he did not always have control over this power.  This made him most dangerous in his sleep.  For in sleep the mind’s unconscious arises and plays out entire people’s lives without your even realising it…

William Torrens was a young man in his thirties.  He had recently purchased a new car and at the same time, had been promoted at his job.  No longer was he on the production line rolling out doll heads, now he was in charge of lowering the cost of their beady little eyes!  His life was at its pinnacle, its triumph, its ahhh-life-isn’t-too-bad-right-now stage.  Life was, well, everything he had always wanted.
One warm summer’s night, Will was walking through Dundary Park on the south end of the city.  It wasn’t far from his office and every so often he just liked to walk home from work and enjoy the whispers of the city as it fell into dusk.  The busy sounds of the street, car engines, horns honking, people calling mixed with the gentle sounds of the park, birds tweeting, the murmur of a nearby stream, and the light snores of a hobo on a bench.  However, this night’s whispers were changing.  In the distance he could here a growing crackling sound, an ominous, heartless, inhuman sound.  Then came the screams; screeches of terror.  Will filled with anxiety.  Children’s voices mixed in with the growing screams and now they were filled with more than terror, they were screams of pain. 
Will began to run.  He didn’t know what for, or where he had to go, he just knew that people needed help.  Each step he took the noise grew and the crackling became more distinguishable.  The sound, mixed with the growing red flicker reflecting off the high rises in front of him told the story of a great fire burning.  The crackling sound were the flames licking the sides of buildings, tearing through shops on ground level, but it was also the almighty rattle of gunfire.  Automatic weapons were firing, and as he drew within a block of the source of the trouble, he could hear the bullets ripping through concrete, wood, and human flesh.
As Will came around the corner, the sight in front of him brought him to his knees.  All that filled his eyes was a blinding flickering red and orange blaze.  The heat singed his eyebrows, and it felt as though he would never be able to breathe again.  A great rushing sound filled his head and it caused him to howl in agony.  With a great force of determination, he fought the suffocating weight of the air and got back on his feet.  He pushed forward into what he did not know.  Figures, flailing and wriggling in pain on the pavement floated past him as he marched forward, each step heavier than the last.  The gunfire returned, more rapid and dreadful than ever.  The skin on his face felt as though it would melt as waves of heat nearly forced him head over heel.  He could see a great shape looming in front of him now.  It seemed entirely immobile and towered some five stories above his head.
Will fell to his knees again, the heat overcoming him, the wind pushing him down to the ground.  He could smell his hair burning now, and the crackle of flames and gunfire filled his ears so that they felt like they should pop.  Most of the screams had died off now, the shadowy figures had stopped moving, appearing now only as silent dark heaps on the pavement.  A great crashing sound made Will look up, only to see that the five-story looming shape had moved towards him at an enormous pace.  The intense heat grew, he was sure his face must be melting now, his vision blurred, his mind was splitting in two, and it seemed his very soul was aching.  Then the heat subsided, the noise and wind grew dim, and all went dark.  Peace overtook him, and he knew nothing more.

“Timmy!”
Timmy opened his eyes; his vision was blurred.  He stretched and rose up from his bed.
“Timmy!  Breakfast”
In a crackly, freshly-used-in-the-morning voice, Timmy called down to his mother, “Coming!”