Volume 2: Letters Burning

Letters Burning

Dear Friend,

I don’t know what to do anymore. I had another accident. Set some kid’s hair on fire. I can’t seem to control it. One second, my day’s going perfectly fine and the next, my hands are soaked in flame. What good is the power to produce fire if you can’t control it? Mom says I’m headed straight to jail if I don’t get a grip on it. You know what? She’s probably right. But I don’t want to go to jail. I’m 18 for pete’s sake. My mom’s concerned because even the doctor says he’s unsure of my “condition”. We’ve even had weird men in business suits come to our door. Mom always tells them to screw off, in the most polite words.

Back to the kid. He’s talking to me about how he and his dad went deep-sea fishing over the weekend. Now, I don’t have a dad. The bastard walked out on my mom and I when I was a year old. So when this kid’s yackin’ about his dad, his words hit me like a bullet out of a handgun. As you can imagine, this doesn’t make me too happy.

Some people say my eyes turn red when it happens. Others say my hair bursts into flames. I think the latter is bullcrap. My hair on fire? What a bunch of phonies. But the reason I believe the talk about my eyes is because my mom says it’s true. Her word means the world to me. She’s all I got left. Hell, no one wants to be friends with the boy who sets people on fire. I digress.

The kid looks at me with wide eyes. I can see the fear taking form. I can still hear his voice:

“Don…Don’t do this. I know what you’re thinking, but don’t…”

“How could you possibly know what I’m thinking? You don’t know my pain. Here, let me give you a taste.” I replied.

Next thing I know, the kid’s on the pavement, rolling around, his hair in flames.

So now, here I am, in the damn police station. They say the kid’s ok, but he lost all of his hair. Go figure, it WAS on fire, for god’s sake. Luckily, they let me keep my journal. There’s nothing else to do here. That’s it for today, though. I’ll write again soon.

-Daniel.

Dear Friend,

A lot has happened since I last wrote. Can you guess where I am now? You got it. Jail. They threw me in here for assault with a deadly weapon. I assume I am that deadly weapon. I wonder how that looks on the police report. I ended up receiving two years in here. Two years of my life, wasted because some loudmouth didn’t know when to shut his trap. The judge said the reason I got two years was because I am a potential threat to society. So they want to rehabilitate me or something, I guess. How am I going to be rehabilitated when I’m stuck in here with a bunch of criminals? But I’m stuck here, no matter what I think. This is only day three of my two year stay. What a drag. Anyway, it’s meal time. I’ll write soon.

-Daniel.

Dear Friend,

Some very unfortunate news reached me today. They are giving me extra time in here. They say they haven’t seen “enough progress”, whatever the hell that means. So my stay has been extended. Welcome to the gloomiest place on earth. Now, my time is up to ten years, depending on my so-called “progress”. I don’t know what progress they want, I haven’t had an accident since I got arrested. So I have to sit here, rotting in this damn cell. I need a plan, some way to get out of here faster. I’ll be good if I have to. Let’s just hope I can be real good.

-Daniel.

Dear Friend,

I have met a new friend, and he sure as hell isn’t made out of 100 sheets of paper and cheap cardstock covers. The guy’s name is Jack, and I’ve come to find that he is special too. After I told him what I was in for, he was happy as hell to tell his whole life story. I thought MY power was inconvenient. He told me he has strange dreams, and they all come true:

“Sorta like seeing into the future.” he explained.

He said he’s seen his family die in his dreams, and it happened for real soon after. I explained to him that I could relate, that my grandparents died when I was younger. That is, I could relate all the way up to the crazy dream crap. Apparently, the doctors didn’t know what to make of Jack’s dreams, so they declared him insane. Of all places, they threw him in this dump of a prison. He was vague on the details of his arrest, but man this guy went through some crap. That’s all I’ve got for today.

-Daniel.

Dear Friend,

Jack filled me in on some pretty outrageous stuff today. He finally opened up to me about his arrest. He said that legally, the government had to declare him insane in order to put him away, but really, they had a whole hidden agenda as to why they threw him in here. Jack said that the government had sent out an organization to look for people like us. He called it “The Harvest Organization”. The Organization’s job was to find all of us “special” people and lock us up, nice and tight. He said they were building a lab somewhere and eventually they’d drag us there to run crazy tests on us. What a strange day this has been. I’m going to go mull things over a bit. I’ll write back soon.

-Daniel.

Dear Friend,

There has been some strange crap going on here. Jack and I have been getting visits from some hot shots in black suits. Today, one of the black-clad bastards called me into the little booth at the end of my cellblock. This guy had a tape recorder sitting on a table in the middle of the room.

“Come, sit down with me Daniel, let’s talk.” he said with a stupid grin on his face.

“What the hell do you want with me?” I asked him as I sat down.

“To ask a few questions, that’s all, Daniel.”

The big fake said my name about 200 times. What a schmo. He asked me a bunch of questions about my childhood and when I learned I had a special ability. I wanted to hit him…so bad.

When I went down to the cafeteria at dinner, Jack asked what happened. When I told him about the inquisitive idiot, he just about had a heart attack. He assured me that the man was from the Harvest Organization:

“They must be evaluating us to prepare for further testing. They must be nearing completion of the lab!”

So, as you can imagine, sleep isn’t coming easy to me tonight. I’ve got so much crap brewing in my head. Time to take it easy. More soon.

-Daniel.

Dear Friend,

Still no accidents since I got arrested. Today, I talked to the warden, and he told me not to get anxious. That I should maintain my composure. I gave him my two cents about composure. He didn’t like that too much. I guess this is good, though. I used to set off my ability with anger. Now, I seem to be able to control my ability by setting aside my anger. The silent monster still sleeps inside me. I’m actually beginning to think I may be able to use these powers to my advantage.

-Daniel.

Dear Friend,

Jack’s gone mad. At least, I think he has. Today he told me that he had an important dream. He said he saw the prison burning down, and he and I were running for our lives. I told him there was no way I would ever use my power for that. I want to get out of here, not earn myself a life sentence. Besides I have learned to control my power. It will never control me again. I told him to keep his dreams to himself. Hell, I’m in a nightmare as it is.

-Daniel.

Dear Friend,

A prisoner was killed by a guard today. Bloodiest mess I’ve ever seen. Word around the prison is that the prisoner stabbed one of the guards. By the time I arrived on the scene after lunch, the guard was beating the hell out of the prisoner. Ruthless son-of-a-bitch. Nobody should be beat like that. Poor bastard. It took the janitor a few hours to clean the blood up off the floor. I’m glad that I’m now safe inside my cell. No need for any more blood to be spilled today. I’ll write again tomorrow.

-Daniel.

Dear Friend,

I’m now on the verge of terror. As we were coming in from our recreation time, I saw the guards dragging a prisoner into a room. I didn’t get a good look at his face, but I was soon informed that it was Jack. I could hear his screams through the door. I wish I could have helped him, but I have no power here, not if I want to get out in one piece.

Jack came to me at dinnertime and told me the whole story. He said he screamed in his sleep because of an awful dream he was having while taking a nap. The guards rushed in, clubs in hand, and dragged him out of his cell. He said they took him into a room and pumped electricity into his brain. I believe electroshock therapy was outlawed long ago, and it was surely never allowed in prisons. Jack thinks this is just the beginning. He said his dream showed prisoners being tortured in the most brutal ways imaginable. I can’t help thinking Jack’s insanity may have some truth behind it. So, I have decided that before this gets really ugly, to make an escape. When I do, they will all pay, dearly.

-Daniel.

Dear Friend,

Tomorrow night is the night we escape. Jack is excited that I am ready to take action. We decided during recreation time that we would make the escape during dinnertime. I can’t decide how I will go about accessing my power. I tried cooking up some angry thoughts, but it yielded no results. Have I really controlled it to the point of eliminating it? Let’s hope not. This has to happen. We have to get out of here. I’m not waiting for some white coat to come drag me off, or worse, a guard to beat me to death. I have to find a way to unleash the silent monster again. Our escape depends on it.

-Daniel.

Dear Friend,

It happened. The prison went up in flames. It happened so quickly. We were sitting down to dinner when it started. Jack got up to ask the presiding guard for a restroom break. As the guard turned to answer, I got up and leaped onto his back. He immediately called for backup. I searched my mind for an angry thought, something to kindle the fire, but nothing came. Jack was screaming at me as the entire cafeteria went into an uproar. I suddenly realized what I had to do. I immediately thought of my father, and how the bastard walked out on us. My mind immediately began to burn with anger. I heard the screams of the people around me, shouting about my burning red eyes. I touched my palm to the guard’s forehead and he screamed bloody murder. I dropped off his back and threatened him with a fistful of flame. I demanded his keys, which he handed to me. The other guards looked terrified, so we were able to slip by and unlock the main gate. Prisoners flowed through the doorway and ran for freedom. Hack and I stopped at the front gate and looked at each other. Time seemed to slow down. I looked in his eyes and felt a sudden rush of anger.

“I know what you are thinking, and you’re right Daniel. I am your father. My name is Michael.” he said.

I will never forget the look he gave me after that. It was a “hey, thanks for letting me out of this dump, I’ll catch ya later” kind of look. Then, he ran. He didn’t even look back. So typical of him, the son-of-a-bitch. I felt an immense amount of pain in my chest, and I felt my body temperature rising rapidly. I must have been burning at a thousand degrees. I screamed at the top of my lungs as a firestorm burst from my body, engulfing the prison in flames. If any prisoners were left in there, they were dead for sure. I looked back at the smoldering ashes of the prison. Then, I ran.

I am now in a small place outside of the prison. Here I must leave you, my friend. I cannot write about where I am going, but let’s just say I have a score to settle.

-Daniel.