A Place For My Head

From the prompt: "A well of lost souls..."

"A Place For My Head"

Gabriel gazed out at the hundreds of bodies swirling past like the curls of the current in a whirlpool. Why was it that every time he was going one way everyone else was headed in the opposite direction? It was a cosmic conspiracy, he was sure of it. He rose up on his toes to survey the crowd, saw a flash of white echoed by a flash of red. DJ and Keith had already found a table.
Gabriel began to cut through the crowd, heading towards his two teammates when someone going past jabbed him in the ribs with a sharp elbow. He whirled, slate eyes furious, and found himself face-to-face with the captain of the football team. Tim or Jim or Billy. Some hick name like that.
"Are you going to apologize?" Gabriel asked coolly.
The jock sneered. "Why should I?" he retorted with that slow Southern drawl.
Gabriel had to refrain himself from slapping the boy upside the head and telling him to speak faster.
"You're a mulatto, boy," Jock Jerk went on. "I don't have to talk to you."
Fury sparked in Gabriel. He was about to reach out with his mind and knock this kid's lights out when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
It was Tobias. "Probably hurts that some of the best football players in the NFL are black, huh?" He smirked. "Come on, Gabriel."
"You just blew your cover," Gabriel hissed as he strode towards their table.
"You would've blown yours by draining him telepathically," Tobias countered mildly. "Come on. I saved you some pizza."

Gabriel had never really cared much for history, especially not the Civil War. He could remember fighting in that, fighting to earn his freedom. Freedom from racist punks, like Jock Jerk over there. Gabriel appraised the bigger boy with the calm gray eyes of a killer. He jumped when the sound of crackling paper invaded his world. Tobias had shoved the note onto his desk and was already pretending to be engrossed in the teacher's lecture.
Hate high school much?
Gabriel scribbled a quick reply.
You kidding me? I hate ALL high school. I hated it before the Dagaz, and I hate it now. Why do they call it school, anyway? It's social hell. He waited until the teacher's back was turned before sliding the paper across to Tobias's desk.
I know what you mean, his teammate replied. These kids act like they're all that, but they have NO idea what's going on.
Of course, Commander had to stick us in the hick-town hole of the universe, Gabriel added, writing the sentence in broken spurts so that it looked like he was taking notes.
I told them I was Russian, and suddenly I get notes with 'Die, Communist, Die!' stuck to my locker. And I lived there how many thousands of years ago? Communism didn't exist back then. Tobias made like he was stretching one arm and reached across the aisle, letting the sheet of paper flutter into Gabriel's lap.
Commander thought it'd be funny to stick us in a non-Dagaz spot, too. We don't even have a Connection out here. Gabriel glared at the back of Jock Jerk's head, thinking of more to add to his reply.
He reached out with his mind, beyond the web of seven brightly shining minds into the sea of other minds floating in the building. He gasped - aloud or in his mind, he didn't know - as they all overcame him. It was all he couldn't do to reach out to one of those minds and pull, suck all the life out of a poor human mortal. Different thoughts from hundreds of different minds attacked him, and he strained to make sense of the cacophony of mental voices.
He was surprised when he found himself in Jock Jerk's mind. Lenny, his name was. I was way off, Gabriel thought before zeroing in on the boy's mind.
(Stupid mulatto...) Lenny was thinking. (Find him after school...who should I ask to Homecoming?...Teach the half-breed a lesson, and his Pinko friend, too...I hope my ma's making ham tonight...That little Russian Communist is a freak...)
Gabriel was thrown back into his own body when the final bell rang. He crumpled the note in his fist and stood up, heading for the door. He could feel Lenny's eyes on him and sighed. Jock Jerk was just a drop of water in this well of lost souls, trapped in the confines of his own mind.

STORIES

HOME

NEXT

BACK