The Girl With the Lightning Touch

Chapter 1

The Girl With the Lightning Touch

By. Maya Flucus

There is blood running down my knee and my face is cut up from the branches that hit my face as I run. DON'T STOP! I yell at myself in my head. The running footsteps behind me are getting closer and I can hear the dogs snarling. I glance back and immediately I trip. When I hit the ground I feel something sharp scrape my side and I realize i'm stuck in the thick underbrush. I do every thing I can to get the thorns out of my shirt but nothing works, they are dug in. A crimson stain spreads across my dirtied white shirt. The only thing I can do is sit back and pray. I try to slow my racing heart beat by holding my breath. It's so loud I feel that someone could hear it a mile away. I hear them nearing and suddenly a hand grabs my shoulder. I kick and scream "NO NO NO LEAVE ME ALONE!" I wake with a start. I'm panting and covered in sweat. "Mia honey are you okay?" my mom asks frightened "Um... i'm okay it was just a bad dream. " Okay... breakfast is ready." she says unconvinced and starts out of the room, but when she gets to the door she turns around, leans on the door frame giving me a one last worried smile, and walks out.

...

I take a deep breath and peel off my sweat damp sheets. Yawning I walk to the bathroom rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I'm not ready to get dressed yet but I do want to take a shower and get out of these sweaty clothes. When I pull off my shirt I notice something in the mirror. On my side there are a cluster of scrapes some bleeding some gone dry.
"Just like the ones in my dream" I whisper. No it can't be, I just probably brushed up against a nail in the wall. I shake the disturbing thought from my head, clean the wound, slip on my shirt and pajama pants, and walk down stairs. As I sit in my seat my mother slides a plate containing pancakes, sausage, and eggs on it. "Happy early birthday sweetheart!" my mom says excitedly.
"Huh?" I say through a mouth full of pancake.
"Oh don't tell me you forgot about your own birthday!" she says. I had forgotten all about that. My so called special 16th birthday was on Friday. I stand up and reach across the table for the syrup. I it in swirls all around my plate and scarf it down within 5 minutes flat. A little bit later my mom comes over and picks up my empty plate.
"Hungry are we?" she asks and I smile at her in return. Excusing myself from the table I walk onto the patio barefoot liking the cool touch of the concrete on the bottom of my feet. Sitting down on the bench I bring my knees to my chest and bury my face in them. Deep in my mind I know that it wasn't a nail that made those nasty scratches.