Gridlock Asylum

1-Fire, Ice, and Rotten Teeth

            “Get up, you lazy freak!” Blane groaned as his Father interrupted his sleep. The blanket was torn from his body, exposing him to the cold. he curled into a ball to conserve warmth, but a hand grasped his wrist and yanked him forward, unceremoniously sending him to the floor.

            “I said get up!” his father barked, red faced. Blane picked himself up, bleary-eyed but otherwise alert. He was shoved into the hallway, where his sister, Nyiah, was being pulled from her room by their stepmother.

            “Go get to work!” their father hissed. The siblings were pushed to the kitchen, where a sinkful of dishes awaited them. Blane and Nyiah glanced at each other and grimaced.  

            As they got to work, their mother sat in the comfy recliner in the living room, a beer bottle in her hand “Whoever finisses…last don’t...get no dinner!” she slurred, shaking her beer bottle erratically.

            The siblings looked at each other, flames sparking in their eyes. They began to fly through their chores, Blane washing the counters and tables and Nyiah scrubbing the floors. The rest of their chores included cleaning…well, the rest of the house.

            After the house was a clean as it could get, they both raced into the living room saying, “I’m done!” in unison. Their parents stared at them. Their children were a mess. Their hair was everywhere, they had never gotten into real clothes, and they were sweaty from their dash through the house.

            “No, you ain’t! Go get yerselfs cleaned up!” their mother glared at them as if it was their fault they never got the chance to make themselves look decent.

            The two raced to their bedroom, matching each other step-for-step. In sync as always. Maybe being twins did that to you.

            As they separated to go into their own bedrooms, Blane gave a curt nod to his sister, who gave one in return. They never hated each other. The cruel way they were treated forced them into this behavior.

            Blane thought about what it would be like without the conflicts with his sister. No rude awakenings in the morning or races for dinner. But there was no way that could happen…was there?

            He went into the bathroom nearest to his room. As he set his clothes on the counter, he looked in the mirror, pursing his lips as he looked at the cause of all his problems. He stretched his blue-black wings, their tips touching either end of the bathroom.

            He folded them in with a sigh. He proceeded to get in the shower, the water sliding from his oily feathers. Knowing he couldn’t take too long, lest his parents get angry with him, he showered quickly, wasting no more time thinking of his troubles.

            As he got out of the shower, he noticed how cold his hands were. However, this was not new. Something about him always made his skin icy whenever he came into contact with water. His parents didn’t hate him just because of his wings.

          The fact was, he had magic at his very fingertips.

          Ice magic, to be precise. He had many tiny pieces of jewelry that he wore to focus his abilities, and he put these on sadly over his clothes, wishing he could freely use his magic without being called a freak for it.

       His sister felt his pain. She had wings similar to his, except they were an amber color. She could control flames, as well.

        Oh the irony of how different they were, yet so alike.