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Blood and the Lightning Bolt

Psychic Warfare is Real

By Lynn JordanPublished 5 months ago Updated 5 months ago 13 min read
4
Blood and the Lightning Bolt
Photo by Micah Tindell on Unsplash

The monster was doing its best to make Evan scream.

It broke his legs, which elicited the faintest gasp. Evan remained silent during the beating and the nail extractions, which he thought was a nice twist. He actually enjoyed the sharp sting that raced from his toes to the back of his jaw like sour candy with each pop off the nail bed.

The monster was disappointed its appearance alone didn’t have this adult male human squealing in horror like a six-year-old girl. It was a dreadful creature covered in grayish skin with a touch of chartreuse, dotted with dried blood, scars, and an oversized mouth ringed with mottled coloring resembling bruises. Two rows of curved, serrated teeth and four lizard-like eyes were set in a deformed, slowly morphing skull, making the sickly, waxy skin almost shimmer like melting fat. Its voice alternated between a disorienting, high-pitched wail and a demonic growl that was so low in tone that an average human would defecate themselves. But not this guy.

Nope. Not even close. This freak was enjoying this. What. The Actual. F?!k.

The monster was unable to speak but could project its thoughts onto its victim. It tried to send visions of even more torture and terror onto Evan, but Evan swatted away those images like annoying no-see-ums in the dusk.

The monster had enough. It was going to teach this insolent human the lesson of lessons. But it was not ready for what was about to unfold.

By Perchek Industrie on Unsplash

When Evan was eighteen years old, he was struck by lightning. He ran after his little sister to bring her inside from the storm, but she was defiant. Ophelia would capture the thunderclouds because she believed they belonged to her. He suddenly felt his hair stand on end and the tingle of static across his arms as he chased her…and then everything went black.

Evan woke up in the hospital, his whole body feeling as if it was made of soft rubber. His head hair went white, but his body hair had exploded from its follicles and would never grow again. His eyes changed from hazel to gray, and he lost his speaking ability for a year.

Lightning would strike Evan twice more. Each time, he would survive, but he could feel every cell in his body changing. He began to speak in tongues, and his parents witnessed him wounding himself with knives with no physical reaction other than the bleeding. Terrified and unsure of what to do, they subjected him to exorcisms, blessings, therapy, and finally, admission into a mental hospital. He pleaded with his family not to do this, but Ophelia convinced their parents he might attack them, and they agreed it would be for the best.

Evan feared they would abandon him once they got him committed to the hospital, which became a reality. The visits dwindled until he only received a phone call once a week. The facility itself was horrible. The visiting areas were beautiful and pristine, but the treatment areas were filthy and understaffed. The staff was overworked and underpaid, and any give-a-damn they once had was busted. The sheer enormity of their responsibilities had them give up – just as the patients' families had.

Ophelia did not care. She secretly hated her older brother. It didn’t matter that her parents gave her everything. What they couldn’t give her was her birthright, and she was furious that the sky mocked her for it.

The Sky God came to Ophelia in a vision when she was fourteen. He told her that the thunderclouds, lightning, and rain would be hers to control when the time came. However, it would only be unlocked when he felt she was ready, so she had to do everything right for the power to be hers. A week later, lightning struck Evan for the first time.

When that happened, she knew it was a failed test. She was annoyed that he survived; she began to believe he was a blockage, a distraction. If her parents only had to focus on her and Evan wasn’t constantly spying on her and bossing her around, she may get to finally level up.

When she reached eighteen, she noted that the lightning strikes that nearly killed her brother occurred every two years within days of her birthday. While nothing about her would change, Evan kept living but was getting weirder and weirder. It was at this time their parents had him committed. She hoped they would keep him forever, but the facility released him after two years. Evan, angry at being dumped at an asylum and forgotten, made plans to go to transitional housing until he could find a job and make his way. But their parents begged for him to come home, and he did.

Even though Evan was no longer cutting himself and his odder behavior had ceased, Ophelia was unhappy, only speaking to him when necessary. Evan thought she would have outgrown her whiny, bratty ways, but she had not. He could tell she still felt it was a competition for their parent’s money and attention. The realization that his sister was just an awful person replaced his need to protect her. He would do his best to leave the house as soon as possible and let their parents deal with her.

He would begin to take videos of her killing small animals and the terrible, guttural songs she sang as she cut them apart and shrieked to the sky. Of her strange dances and her promises of more blood until the Sky God gave her his gift.

And they thought he was the crazy one. They had no idea.

By Joshua Fuller on Unsplash

Ophelia became increasingly angry that her brother’s return home may ruin her plans. Her anger boiled over three days before her birthday when she watched him go to the mailbox at the end of their long driveway. As he walked, she saw the sky quickly darken to flat gray, with black clouds coalescing like smoke, making a beeline for him. He was oblivious, and Ophelia screamed as a streaming blast of white-hot lightning struck Evan on the top of his head, the bolt tip gripping his skull like craggy fingers and lifting him off the ground. It held him suspended in the air for seconds that crawled by, and then it released him, placing him gently on the dirt. He immediately collapsed, facing the house where he could see his parents running towards him in what seemed like slow motion. He knew it happened again. He closed his eyes, expecting to wake up in the hospital or, mercy permitting, finally not wake up.

However, this time was different. The second Evan felt his father’s breath on his face, he sat up, making his parents gasp and fall back. He shook his head and said, “I got struck again, huh?” “Y-y-yes, yes you did,” his stunned father replied. Evan heaved a long sigh. He should have been, at best, unconscious and, at worst, dead, but he felt fine. What hair was left was standing up straight, and they could smell his scorched skin and burnt hair. But his speech was normal, and his body was calm. He was lucid. They were at a loss for what to do. “I probably should go to the hospital,” Evan said with a weary shrug. “Uhhh…okay. Okay. We’ll take you,” his mother said, wanting to hold and comfort him but too frightened to touch him. The black clouds that brought the lightning bolt had melted away, leaving a beautiful clear sky. But the black clouds in Ophelia’s mind grew thick.

By Debashis RC Biswas on Unsplash

The hospital kept Evan for observation, and when his parents returned home, Ophelia was sitting at the kitchen table with her arms tightly crossed on her chest. “You should send him back to the asylum!” she yelled. “One way or the other, he will get us killed! Why do you keep trying to save him? He hates us all, one day he will kill us all, and it will be ALL YOUR FAULT!”

Her parents, physically tired and emotionally drained, did not have the mental bandwidth to deal with another of her tantrums.

“Ophelia…” her mother began to speak with a tone of resignation and exhaustion.

“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT! HE IS DANGEROUS!”

Pulling up what was left of his energy, her father hollered back, “My God, Ophelia, what is wrong with you? HE IS YOUR BROTHER! Four times he should have died, and you DON’T EVEN CARE? The lightning hit him, not us! He has never tried to harm us, only himself! Sometimes I wonder why he never slapped the shit out of you because you deserved it, and if I had the energy, I would do it now! SHUT UP! JUST. SHUT. UP!”

Ophelia was shocked. Her father was a docile mouse of a man, and even though he provided a very comfortable life for her, she had no respect for him. Her father was a wallet, a means. It did not matter that he was a good dad and a model husband who did everything he could for his family. Ophelia believed that she was the daughter of the Sky God, and this puny, poor excuse of a man was nothing but a human placeholder. She went silent but glared at her parents as they trudged up the stairs to their bedroom. After chugging down half a bottle of vodka, she slipped out the back door and into the woods.

By Eric Muhr on Unsplash

The hospital ultimately found no damage, treated the burn on Evan’s head, and his parents brought him home. But once inside the house, a high-pitched hum reverberated in his head, and his knees felt weak. There was a flutter in his heart that did not hurt but felt like someone flipping through pages in a book.

He hugged his parents and went straight to his room, wanting to rest in the comfort of his bed. It was midday, and he decided to sleep for a few hours and join his family for dinner. Other than being tired, he felt okay. He fell asleep almost instantly, the flutter in his heart turning into a purr.

The sleep was so deep he did not hear it.

He did not hear the thunderstorm that brought torrential rains. He did not hear the sound of his sister jumping and clapping gleefully at the monster she summoned that was tearing her parents apart limb from limb in the backyard, their blood mingling with the rainwater that flowed down the driveway and onto the road. Like an imp in a trance, she swirled and swayed while kicking her father’s head through the wet grass, leaving a crimson trail. She held her mother’s forearms in front of her, trying to make the limp hands at the end clap with appreciation.

Then she, with the monster in tow like an obedient dog, crept into the house and up the stairs to get Evan.

As the monster unleashed its unholy wail and twisted Evan’s legs until they broke, Ophelia stood on a chair, panting heavily and drooling. Watching her brother suffer on this level is the best birthday gift ever. She would let the monster torture him until she got bored and then tell it to end him. Except Evan wasn’t suffering.

He was pissed.

The leg-breaking merely woke him; it barely startled him. Once he realized what was happening, he turned to his growling sister and stared at her. Nothing the monster did to him would break this stare. At first, Ophelia thought he turned to her out of shock or to plead for his life. He did neither. He stared at her, stared directly into those soulless eyes even as the monster wailed into his ear. As it pounded on his body, trying to make him bleed slowly from the inside. She went still as all of his hatred built up toward her over the years simmered, and then - just when the monster was about to tear into his face with its claws - Evan turned to it, and two bolts of lightning shot from Evan’s eyes, blasting the creature across the room. The rumble of thunder emanated from Evan’s chest, and the howling of hurricane-force winds exploded from his mouth, driving his terrified sister out of the room and down the stairs. Evan rose from the bed on a wave of air, his broken legs dangling, drifting behind her, close enough so she could hear him rolling like a train without brakes, and he could smell every bit of her fear.

She bolted out of the back door, tripping on her parent’s body parts and slipping on the bloodied grass. But she kept moving, calling out for her Sky God, not understanding what was happening. Running until she could no longer hear Evan and believing her God had answered, she stopped and turned around.

Evan was 30 feet away, floating on a swirl of dark wind that kept his damaged feet inches from the ground. Behind him, the coal-colored sky was undulating with clouds of every shade of gray and black. Through the clouds above Evan’s head, her God spoke.

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO DO EVERYTHING RIGHT, BUT YOU DID EVERYTHING WRONG!”

Ophelia fell to her knees. “...But I LIVED for you! I sacrificed so much! I paid with blood for your blessing!”

“YOU PAID WITH THE BLOOD OF VERMIN. THEN YOU PAID WITH EVERYONE’S BLOOD BUT YOUR OWN.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? She pleaded, “I would have done whatever you said, but you told me nothing! I wanted to show how I can bring chaos and destruction on Earth like you can! How did I fail? HOW DID I FAIL?”

Thunder began to crackle slowly behind Evan, and she watched her brother’s mouth curl into a cruel smile.

Her God didn’t answer. But Evan did.

“Oh, poor Ophelia. Still hearing those voices.”

She momentarily forgot her panic and screamed at him, “The power of the Sky God was supposed to be mine! You were always in the way!”

Evan craned his broken neck towards her. “What makes you think a poltergeist you created with your shitty energy could hurt me? Me! A man struck by lightning four times? How dare you think you can control power you do not respect!”

The monster was indeed a poltergeist. Ophelia’s innate psychic gifts and ugly heart finally developed enough to create it. Her untreated mental illness enclosed it all in a world fraught with imagined enemies and voices in her head that goaded and lied to her. Her dream was shattered, the Sky God non-existent, and her parents were in pieces around her. She fell to her knees, not knowing if she could trust what she saw.

“So then, what is this?” She cried, reaching for Evan, wanting to feel something tangible.

Evan laughed so loud that every hair on her body stood up, and then he said, “Dear sister, this is your reckoning.” She shrank back as an inhuman source illuminated his gray eyes, and they burned silver.

With thunder, lightning, and roaring wind starting anew behind him, she watched as the monster she created sprinted from behind Evan, racing towards her through the rain, screeching, its mouth agape and expanding.

It was at that moment Ophelia realized she was wrong. The thunderclouds would never belong to her. They always belonged to Evan. She also realized he would not save her.

By Luka Vovk on Unsplash

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About the Creator

Lynn Jordan

Gen X writer of published music reviews now putting my fiction, non-fiction & the occasional poem out there. Every piece I write, regardless of genre, is a challenge accepted, and crafted with care and love. Sit a spell & enjoy!

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Comments (2)

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  • Terri Lynn5 months ago

    Oh man, I want the back story, prequel, sequel, part three and finale! Loved this story! The suspense! The plot twist! 🤩

  • Alex H Mittelman 5 months ago

    Fantastic work! Great!

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