Genesis: Garuda by Bee Ran (good books for 8th graders txt) 📕

I continued a stroke with my paint brush. This was the finishing touch to my painting. I stood back and admired my painting. It was a painting of downtown. There were many buildings of different sizes lined up shoulder to shoulder. Light emitting from the windows of the buildings brightening the otherwise dark sky. Many people inhabited this painting. After all, downtown was not simply a place for one type of person but many. There were businessmen scurrying to work, teenagers standing in groups, women hurrying with open purses and beggars lying in the shadows hoping not to be seen. In the centre of the painting was a protective father and a loving mother surrounded by two mischievous children. The family - my family - was laughing and smiling as they walked down the busy streets of downtown. The shadows from my family enlightened the rest of the painting.

“Finally done your picture?” said an anticipated boy behind me. It was my brother who had just walked into the room.

“You really got to do something other than paint all day. Let’s go outside and throw the football around.” he said.

My brother was now twelve. He had grown since the event this picture took place. He was very tall and had tanned skin. His eyes were a shade of red which was very uncommon but many girls liked that about him. His body was a lot more toned now after years of playing football. He was the favourite child of the family because of his personality. He was great with words and could entertain people for hours about random things. He was my role model. I knew I could never be like him but it was nice to know that there was a realistic goal that would be obtainable instead of aiming for an unobtainable goal.

I shook my head left to right. “Okay bro but your missing out.” said Grayson, my brother. With that he walked out the door. He left me sitting in my room to ponder on whether I took the right decision. I did not say no because I did not want to play, I said no because I knew that I had the freedom to do so.

He was much more understanding than he expressed in front of me. Considering that I was basically a mute, he never treated me any differently than people treated him. I had a speech problem. It was a mix of cluttering, stuttering and dyslexia. Many people do not bother to talk to me for this reason. I have always had a problem talking so I chose not to and conveyed what was necessary through art. I think very differently than the regular child. What I mean is both being smarter but taking a different approach to a similar situation. If there were two paths that were laid out before me, and every other person took the right path, I would take the left path. I do not mean to do it but it was naturally programed into my system. I also have perfect memory. I can remember every detail of my life since I was four years old. I am one of the twenty people in the world that have this ability. I think it had something to do with my odd way of thinking. Since I do not get the chance to talk much, I have a lot of time to ponder on random things. That made the way I think very unique. Today, I turned ten years old.

I walked downstairs to show my mom the painting. Dad was on the way home from work. He and mom worked in a nuclear plant. They were scientists that studied radiation. My mother was working hard in the kitchen. Her hair was a mess and her clothes were splattered with random colours and powders. It looked like she had just returned from a paintball tournament. I jumped up in front of her with the painting in my hands.

“Let’s take a look at this.” said my mother softly and took the painting from my hands. “You’ve got quite the artistic mind. Wow. Is this the day we went to the theatres and Gray dropped ketchup on his shirt? I can see it in the painting. You have quite the memory.” She said bending down to my level and ended the conversation with a tap on my nose. Her finger left a bit of flour on my nose. I gave her a little smile and a nod.

“I’m home.” I heard a loud voice coming from the entrance of the house. I went running down to greet the voice. I stood at the entrance and smiled at the person at the door, my dad.

My mom walked up to him and whispered in his ear. “That sounds like a great idea. We’ll go right now before the guests arrive.” He replied.

Within a couple of seconds we left the house and were at the theatre. My mother had told him about my picture and they assumed that I wanted to watch a movie at the theatre. We went to watch a movie at the theatre. It was very dark in the movie theatre. The trailers began running and I wanted to go to the washroom before the movie starter. I poked Gray in the arm. He looked at me with a questioning look. I lifted a closed fist and lifted the pinky. “Alright. Let’s make it fast.” replied Grayson.

We went to the washrooms and I heard a loud bang. My gut was churning. There was something wrong. I quickly ran out with Grayson and saw a very large man guarding the theatre doors. He stood there with his arms crossed and a gun in his hands. We heard a lot of screaming coming from the inside. Grayson and I grabbed each of his arms and begged his. There were tears streaming from both of our eyes.

“Please. Please.” I heard Gray crying.

The man stood there not fazed by anything Grayson and I did. His mouth cracked and a grin appeared. There was something twisted about that man. There was only one way we could go in but I would not be able to do it. I would have to do it because I could not tell him. I stepped back and ran at the man. I punched him in the gut but it left nothing. The man was confused why I would attempt to pull off a trick like that which would never work. Grayson understood. Within a second Grayson flipped the man over, took away his gun and was in the theatre.

There was a gigantic hole where the projector should have been. There were no sign of people alive. We looked around and saw our parents. I ran up to them and they were lying there motionless. There was blood oozing from everywhere. Grayson grabbed my head and covered my eyes. Tears flowing from both of us. How could they leave us and just leave? Was this a dream. Grayson whispered in my ears “It’s going to be alright.” Even though I knew he did not know if it was, it was enough to relax me.

I felt a hand push me to the side and grab Grayson. “It was you who did this wasn’t it?” I heard a man say. I looked back to see a policeman trying to handcuff Gray. I could not let that happen.

“It, It, t” I could not get past that. There must have been another way. There were more tears flowing. I could not let them take away Grayson too. I felt a power amount of energy in my head. I could feel my heartbeat in my brain. I directed the energy towards the cop. I send images of what had happened. He was on his knees screaming as I continued to send images in his directions. Somehow I had blamed him for everything that had happened today. He began twitching on the ground. It must have been a seizure. Grayson grabbed me and ran. We ran right out of the place and never came back to that gruesome place.

That incident had changed both of our lives. Years had passed before we got used to them not being there. Grayson was now 17 and I was 13. No family wanted to adopt us so we decided to live on our own and pretend as if a guardian was taking care of us. We both forged signatures whenever necessary. I practiced my powers with Grayson because it was a much easier way of communicating between us. I usually put a picture in his head and he would reply back. At first, we were surprised by it but we realized that I needed it to communicate like this and it was a faster way. I got so good at it. I began actually speaking with a voice in a person’s head. Grayson stopped going to school and began working to earn money for us to survive on. He did almost every job to earn money. I had lost count of the number of jobs he had taken. Most of the jobs were hard labour.

I continued going to school but I also took a part time job. My part-time job was working for a Hindu Temple. I was a Christian but the churches only offered volunteer services. Being a Christian, it was very different from what I was usually exposed to. One thing that I definitely thought was very different was that it was very loud. I would help clean up in the after they would lock up, hand out food to people in line and carry some boxes here and there.

My hour was up and I left. By the time I entered the door it was late. Grayson had already went to sleep. There was a package on the kitchen counter addressed to Grayson. It had already been opened. I peered inside the box out of curiosity. There, lying in the box, was a gun and a note attached to it. I picked up the gun. It was a lot heavier than I thought a gun would be. The note fell to the ground. My eyes picked up on a few words while it was falling which were; target and tonight. Something terrible was about to happen.

“That would be enough.” I heard an angry voice from behind me. I turned around to see a furious Grayson standing by the stairs.

“Why are you going through my stuff?”

“What are you doing, Grayson.” I focussed into his. “There’s a gun in the middle of the kitchen.” He stood there staring at me.