New Addresses

As promised, the new addresses.

http://brc-origin.blogspot.com
http://brc-ahiddenworld.blogspot.com

Apology and Address

Hello, readers. I want to apologize for not updating. This blog started as a school assignment, and then summer started. So I'm going to get right on that again.

It's going to be a little delayed, though. I'm moving to a new web address, because let's face it: brc-what-if doesn't fit the site anymore. I'll keep this one for the rest of the summer, then delete it. Also, I'm going to be revising each post of this site before moving it to the next site, so again, it'll take awhile.

But thanks for sticking with me for this long. I'll tell you the new addresses as soon as I get them approved.

brc

Attacked

Later that night, Allison sighed and flopped onto her bed. She'd been rubbing her arms all afternoon, and it never amazed her to find the skin whole, healthy. The flames had been so real...

She was rubbing again. She pushed against her eyes with the heels of her hands, trying to erase the images. But the flashes of light only reminded her of the fires and the grass. The fear when she forced it to grow. The pain when it started to burn.

The peace when it died and knew that such a thing was meant to be.

She shivered and got up. Her parents kept melatonin pills in the medicine cabinet, and even though they weren't home, Allison knew they wouldn't mind if she took a few. She wasn't getting anywhere awake; she needed to sleep the whole thing off. The last thing she wanted to remember was the chill serenity of death.

__________

Allison was woken from the terrifying tranquility of her nightmare by her plants.

She could feel them in their pots around her room, where they'd been resting until only moments before. Now they were uneasy, almost agitated. Something was wrong.

...strangers in the garden...
...many quiet strangers...
...tender must run, must flee the strangers...

Allison frowned, still sleepy. Tender? Did they mean her? What did they mean by strangers? And why could she hear them without trying, let alone in her sleep?

She got at least one answer when white-robed men opened her door and ran to her bed. Allison tried to get away, but the melatonin slowed her down and let them catch her easily. The plants in her room started to go beserk, bursting out of their pots and grabbing attackers with stalk and root alike. The men paid the plants no mind, stifling Allison's yells with a strip of cloth. They tried to tie her up, but the rope was made of some sort of natural fiber and writhed out of their hands. The cotton cloth untied itself and Allison yelled, "Who are you people?"

Something dark jumped into her room and slashed at the closest assailant. It moved in a blur, attacking the attackers and forcing them to flee. The last one it simply held, then let fall to the floor. It turned and looked at Allison. "Are you okay?"

Allison frowned. She knew that voice. "I'm fine."

Screams erupted across the street, making the rescuer swear and jump out the window. The moment she left Allison lunged for her cellphone. Tristan needed to know.

Training

Allison sat and frowned at the patch of Tristan's lawn in front of her. She wanted it to grow; she'd already tried orders and visualization. What else was there?

Maybe... She closed her eyes and reached out to the grass. A thousand tiny voices resounded in her ears, a thousand but one.

...grow to the sky, grow in the earth, connect with our neighbors, twist and stretch and grow...

GROW. 

...resist the new voice, resist the voice's order, unnatural unthinking unconnected... 

GROW. 

...resist resist resist resistresistresist...

...succumb...

The blades rose, stretching towards the sun. Allison smiled and kept them growing. "Look, Tristan, I--"

Light and heat burst in her mind, joined by thousands of screaming voices.

...PAIN BURNING FLAMES!...
...GROWTH MUST STOP, WE ARE DYING!...
...FIRE! BURNING! DEATH!...

Allison's scream joined theirs and she fell over, writhing. Tristan ran and tried to calm her down. "You're not on fire, Allison!"

"It burns!"

"I'm sorry!" Megan wailed.

...WE ARE GROWING WE ARE BURNING WE ARE DYING!... "Make it stop!"

Tristan tried to stop her flailing and got kicked in the ear for his trouble. "Allison, it was just the grass! Megan only set the grass on fire!"

"The grass is still on fire!" Kyle yelled. "Someone put it out!"

Jared ran off. "I think a saw a bucket in the garage!"

Training didn't last much longer.

Sorry...

I haven't been able to get on the Internet all weekend. Some guys are coming to my house today to fix it, but until then...*sigh*

Final Report

After school ended, Tristan and the rest of his group met up by the flagpole. Jared immediately handed Tristan a folder, which the junior flipped through. He smiled. "Perfect. Thanks, Jared."

The sophomore shrugged. "Don't mention it."

"Um, Tristan?"

Allison pointed over his shoulder and he turned. Destiny stood just out of earshot, talking to five other students. A little concentration confirmed the students' identities, and Tristan sighed. "I see them."

"What are we going to do?"

"We're going to go to my house and practice." She started to protest, but he cut her off before she could say a word. "We're not going to make any more headway today, and I think second period shows that we have to learn to control our powers."

The red-haired freshman wailed. "I'm sorry!"

More Information

Jared met up with Greg a few minutes before study hall. Greg immediately handed over a folder. Jared gave the contents a glance and sighed with relief. They even had the back-up email addresses. "You guys are lifesavers."

Greg smiled. "I'll pass it on, Your Majesty."

Jared gave him a look that was half-annoyance and half-smirk. It was something of a joke between Jared and the people who knew about his "kingdom", and it had yet to get old. Middle-aged, maybe, but not old. "Did you get the other information I asked for?"

"Yeah, right here." Greg took out yet another folder and gave it to Jared. The reason Greg was the head informant--the "lord chamberlain"--was his love of organization. He didn't know everything Jared did, but he knew where to find it all. Jared was perfectly happy to let him keep track of the physical information, while keeping perfect mental copies in his head. He had nothing to hide from his half-brother.

Now he looked at the papers and frowned. "No one owned the house before she did?"

"Yeah, it was an empty lot. I think we used it to play soccer when we were kids."

"I remember that. So the city owned it first?"

"Yeah. We found the sale records, but they just say 'unspecified buyer' and leave it at that." Greg gave a disdainful sniff. "Not very efficient."

"You'd be the expert on that." Jared closed the folder, thinking. Then he shook his head. "None of this makes sense. It's like Destiny just appeared out of thin air and started messing with our lives."

Greg nodded seriously. He too saw the monsters, and his ability was a secret known only to himself and his half-brother. His "aura" had yet to be noticed by the all-seeing Tristan, and Jared preferred it that way. A small and secret weapon, if they ever needed it.

Jared put the first folder in his backpack and gave the second back. "Get to study hall, Greg. I'll meet up with you around seven. Your mom's making spaghetti, right?"

"Yeah. See you then."

Neither Ferrell saw the black-skinned teen watching them. Of course, they would have had to be Seers to see her at that point.