I'd like to say that my life is _very_ nicely unfucked and getting better all the time, but I can't. The fucked up just gets worse. End of bitchfest. Again, I want to think everybody gave me feedback on the first two chapters of this story. As I hope to prove this time, I will not fail or falter. But for my kickstart, I first have to thank CSquared, as it was while reading Powers, his "Opus Magnum", that my desire to tell this story became overwhelming. The second person to be thanked is my lovely fiancee, blayze, who never stopped wanting me to start writing again. Lastly, I need to thank krys, who made it worth coming back online again, which further motivated me to keep writing. I'm still trying for one chapter per month from this point on, but maybe I'll be able to do better. Chapter 3 and 4 are coming out so close together because 3 was a paragraph from being finished when I crashed last time. As always, not even I know how long this story will end up being, again, we are still only in the beginning and I don't know the end of this journey anymore than you do. I have to give props to CSquared as his is the first story beyond mine that I have ever run across, where somebody had telekinesis, but did not have the ability of telepathy (always excepting the early eighties movie "Zapped!" with Scott Baio, and the debate on my end of reality is raging on as to whether or not he was mildly telepathic). But even in Powers there are telepaths on hand to pull an Obi-Wan and conveniently make everyone forget. So how much more difficult would life be if those with the super-human power to move things with their minds couldn't erase the memory from the standers-by? How hard would it be for someone to have pure telekinesis, with no telepathy, and no one around to help them out? In short, a world where telekinesis was suddenly real, but telepathy was still a pipe dream? Let's find out. Now, as always, please send any and all comments to me. Suggestions and criticisms will be gratefully accepted. Flames, however, will be ignored. Please, do me a favor and tell me what you think. After all, it really is the only payment we online authors get <g>. And before I forget, if you like this type of story, I'd highly suggest checking out the works of "The Book" series by Blackie and "Tim, the Teenaged MC" by Rass Senip. Admittedly, they are mostly telepathy with a bit of telekinesis, but they are works for the ages. And then there is the newer work, but every bit as good, by CSquared, "Powers" which seems to have equal amounts of telepathy and telekinesis as time goes by, and I believe it will join the previous two as works to be remembered. ------------------------------------------------------ Pure Telekinesis by: Waylan Dagger (waylandagger@hotmail.com) (c) 2008 Chapter 4 : All Alone - Or Am I? After cleaning the blood off his face in the downstairs bathroom, David went back up the stairs and looked at the dark hallway. "Well," he said to himself, "I don't have a blood donor here so let's keep as much in my nose as possible. I'll flip the switch the old-fashioned way." He began moving along hallway, his right hand sliding along the wall between elbow and shoulder height. After a short time, standing in the pitch black darkness, his hand felt the plate the switch should have been in, but he couldn't find the toggle switch. Where it should have been, in the center of the plastic plate, was a rectangular hole, slightly jagged at the bottom. David actually turned to face the wall, even though he couldn't really see it, just a slightly lighter patch of darkness. He muttered, softly "What the fuck?" and shook his head. He immediately gave up on trying to find the bit of plastic in the gloom and stumbled down to the second doorway on the right, blindly following his hand on the wall. He opened his bedroom door and shuffled into the not-as-dark space, and felt grateful, for the first time, for the streetlight just outside his bedroom window, which even the heaviest shade couldn't block out entirely. Navigating the debris on the floor by memory, instinct, and one stubbed toe, David fell onto his bed, ignored the light puff of dust, flipped his pillow over his head and held it tight. After about an hour, he finally dropped off, desperately clutching his damp pillow, the tear tracks drying on his face, and an occasional sob escaping him even in sleep. David sat bolt upright the next morning, breathing hard. A nightmare quickly fled from his mind, and the only thing he remembered was the pain-twisted face of his sister, Yolanda. His hand came up to wipe the sleep in the corners of his eyes, then ran up though his hair again, stopped to trace the bandage with his forefinger. He looked over at the clock and made an inarticulate noise of disgust. 4:30am. David knew if he went back to sleep his alarm would never wake him up... "Not that I remembered to set the damn thing," he muttered after he noticed the alarm light was off. Grumbling, moaning, and scratching at the hair on the back of his neck, David stumbled across the hall, the light from his bedroom spilling out, toward the bathroom. Halfway here, he yelped, jumped, and fell on his butt, hands grasping his right foot. He looked over to see what he had stepped on and saw the twisted, cracked, half-shattered plastic toggle from a light switch. There was a drop of blood on the tip. He forgot about his pain and dropped his foot. His head swiveled on his neck but the rest of him had become a statue. "Whoa," escaped his lips as he saw what was left of the hallway light switch. The bottom of the rectangular hole that normally encased the toggle was jagged, broken. The flat panel of plastic had split and splintered from the remainder of bottom of the rectangular hole, and down through the screw holding it in place. "I think I used too much twitch," he mused to himself as he stood up again, the pains in his foot and back from stepping on the jagged plastic and falling forgotten. A chuckle escaped his throat and he muttered, "I'll need to replace that." After showering, shaving, pissing, and eating (thanking heaven for his mother's long-time addiction to Eggos and his father's unnatural obsession with Kool-Aid), David dressed in slightly musty clothes from his closet. "Shopping and laundry," he muttered to himself. "Those are my priorities after school." His Aunt's voice echoed in his memory, "...when you get hungry." Well, it wasn't much of a surprise that his mother, while she had still been speaking to Aunt Laura, ad never told her that he was working. Primarily because his mother had _strongly_ disapproved of the fact that he worked at the local Hot Topic. David had never understood why his mother disapproved, all he ever wore from there were some band shirts...and the shirt with the Autobots symbol on it he had bought and never worn. David smiled as he remembered how he had gotten himself hired. Dawn, the manager, sneered as she played her eyes up and down the normal, thin, preppy-looking David. Then she sighed and said, "Well, I guess you won't steal as much stuff as the last one. She weighed at least ten pounds more at the end of every shift." David had been very aware of the fact that he would need the money for college, even if he did manage to swing the unlikely academic scholarship or two, and a hell of a lot more when he didn't get those scholarships. So he had put over $50,000 into his savings account over the last seven years. Well over half of that in the last two years of working at Hot Topic. At least once a month, usually once a week or more, his mother had asked him why he couldn't get a "more respectable" job. She had never understood his answer: "But, Mom, I _like_ working there. A bunch of kinder-goths sniping at preppy- me behind my back and talking about what they can't find. And then seeing their faces as I turn around and tell them exactly where they can find what they were talking about, then go on to discuss the comparative quality of a thin leather chain-hung belt versus one made only of thick chain, how much longer the chain will last, and the differences in the current trends of the Goth, Emo, and Artistic crowds. Those looks, Emo-deer-in-the-headlights. Priceless, absolutely priceless." In fact he was...had been...forbidden to tell his limited amount of relatives that he had even worked since being a paperboy, as that was a "perfectly respectable" occupation for a boy and then a young teenager. As a result, almost all of them had characterized David as "lazy and won't ever amount to much." The rest had just lamented that he was so unmotivated. David hadn't told Aunt Laura about his job yet because it hadn't come up. He still wasn't released for work. He paused as he got ready to set the alarm and leave, briefly wondering if he _had_ a job to go back to. He shook his head and reminded himself that it didn't matter at the moment. The alarm set, David locked only the deadbolt, started to chuckle, then let out a sob as he realized his sister wouldn't ever lock the doorknob again to let him know she was with her flavor-of-the-week, making out in the living room, and he should see the sights for a while. He shook his head violently and muttered, "Need to get new locks for the door. Don't want Auntie-dearest barging in anymore," and turned away. David turned the first corner from his house onto the route that would take him, eventually, to his school. He was walking on auto-pilot, thinking to himself how he should get the van still in the garage registered to park in the student lot and constructing a shopping and to-do list in his head as he went. A high-pitched, almost falsetto, war- whoop sounded from behind David. With reflexes born of dealing with this for years, David dove face-first into the snow on the sidewalk, just as a large water balloon passed through the air his back had occupied a millisecond before. It struck a lightpole just ahead of him with enough force to spray water at least five feet beyond even as David was rolling onto his side to look at the passing car, a candy- apple red 1969 Corvette. Over the growl of the passing car's engine, David clearly heard Jimmy D's voice shout, "Ya missed the weirdo again, Scott!" David snarled out and the twitch hit him again, almost stronger than the white-hot anger that burned inside. A sound that can only be described as a head-on collision between two tanks shattered the air as something like the fist of an invisible giant smashed the hood of the 'Vette down into the asphalt, turning frame, engine, et al into a large steel pancake. David almost blacked out from the searing pain in his head, but managed to hold on as the back end of the car rocketed upward in reaction, like a massive tiddly-wink. Bright hazel eyes behind huge, round glasses framed by a face frozen in terror stared out at David from the now near-vertical tiny back seat. David heard his own voice scream "NOT AGAIN!" as he felt not the twitch, but a much larger movement, almost like his entire brain had lurched inside of his skull. The car, now hurtling toward the ground roof-first, slowed rapidly. It settled, almost gently, on its roof and David fell into blackness. David slowly began to claw his way back to consciousness, hearing, from far off, the soft, quiet, almost musical voice he was quickly beginning to associate with getting better. "David," it was saying. "Oh, please, David, wake up!" It was tinge with something more this time and, as David tried to ready himself to talk, he realized something wet was falling on his left cheek. "It can't be raining," David groaned out. He heard a gasp, the missiles solve, and the voice whispered, "Thank you, goddess." David managed to get his left eye open without passing out again from pain, almost, but not quite, and saw the small form he now recognized above him. "Ang?" he managed to get out. "Are you all right?" Ang had her hands under her glasses, wiping her eyes and hiccuped out a laugh. "I'm not the..." she took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm not the one who was lying face- down in the snow, coloring it with my blood, silly." "Blood?" David asked. "Oh, my nose. Yeah, I think it does that when I try ta do too much." He tried to sit up, but couldn't quite move. "Give us a hand, will you?" "Us?" She said, wiggling her hands under him and trying to lift. "How many of ya are in there?" "Sorry," David grunted as he got his muscles to work, sitting up with Ang's help. "I've watched too much Monty Python and Black Adder." She finished helping him sit up in the snow and giggled. The sweet, throaty sound that David smile despite himself. "Oh, sure, and next you are going to tell me you are half Roman and didn't know it!" "Nah," David responded automatically. "My name's David, not Brian, remember?" And then he stopped and turned just his head to stare at Ang. She shrugged, blushing. "What," she squeaked out, "am I supposed to like South Park instead?" David made a rude noise before he could stop himself. "Yeah," Ang muttered, looking to her left, "Jimmy likes that show." David looked past her and saw what was left of the car lying on its roof, passenger door opened, and James Dean as well as another jock hanging upside down, still in their seatbelts. "Are they..." he whispered, unable to continue. "They are breathing," Ang said and then muttered something too low for David to make out. David nodded and said, "How long?" He then realized she wouldn't be used to the way he cut out things sometimes, like most of his friends were, and opened his mouth again. "Fifteen minutes or so," Ang said and sniffled. "Only that since you crunched the 'Babemobile' and saved me...again." David, starting to panic, blurted out, "What? I didn't touch the car." Ang frowned and stared into his eyes through her thick glasses. "Just another 'prank' then?" she asked, her voice a little sharp. David slowly shook his head and whispered, "No." A siren started wailing in the distance, coming rapidly closer. David shot to his feet, ignoring the stabbing pain in his head, and held his hand down, offering silently to help Ang up. "C'mon," he said. "Trying to explain this to a bunch of paranoids in uniform doesn't sound fun to me." Ang looked up at him, a sudden look of fear flying across her face, then nodded and took his hand, struggling back to her feet. David made sure she was stable before he let go of her hand and began to stride away. "Wait," Ang called. David stopped and turned around to see her taking handfuls of snow from a lawn to cover the red patch of snow that had his face's imprint in it. "We don't want them finding this either," she explained and stood up when she was done, walking over toward him. "Something like this is probably going to end up near Daddy's office and forensics would have a field day." David started to ask about "Daddy's office" and had opened his mouth when Ang, visibly hesitating, slipped her hand into his. "And we better go back to your house," she added. Her freezing cold hand felt somehow...warm...all over, and made his thoughts scatter. "Uh, why?" he asked. "Well," she said, walking quickly and following his footprints in the snow, "I don't think you want to show up at Lake Stevens High with blood coving the right side of your face, huh? Not to mention the icky mess in your hair." "Oh," he said as he had to lengthen his stride to keep up with the slowly-jogging Ang. "Around the corner here?" she asked. "Yeah, the ugly house," David heard himself say. Ang spotted the mint green house with the dark blue trim shortly and slowed a bit, saying, "Oh...my. Well, at least it's unique." David couldn't help it, he laughed as he caught up with her and was able to walk normally again. Ang grinned, her eyes shifting sideways to look at him. He saw her left eye without the glasses and felt his own widen a bit. "Uhm," he cleared his throat. "Can you see me?" "I'm nearsighted," she answered. "You're a little blurry, but not much." David stopped himself from asking why she wore such huge eyeglasses then and just said, "Ah." He opened the front door and ushered Ang in just as a police cruiser, lights flashing, slowed as it went past the intersection, toward the currently-out-of-sight wrecked 'Vette. David dove inside, pulling Ang with him, and keyed the code into the beeping panel as his foot kicked the door shut again. He turned to look at Ang, who had been looking around, but her eyes had stopped on the tree. "Just, ah, hang around here while I get cleaned up ok?" David asked her as he turned and strode for the stairs. "Yeah," she said softly, stepping toward the living room. "Sure." David was still running a towel over his short hair when he came downstairs, freshly showered and wearing clean but still musty clothes and a dry, if a little dusty on the shoulders, jacket. "Ang?" he called out, not seeing her immediately. "In here," her voice floated out of the living room. He walked in and saw her standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the desiccated tree and forlorn- looking presents. Her lower lip trembled as she turned to face him and her eyes had a wet shine along the bottom eyelid. "I don't even know what to say...how you must feel," she whispered. David dropped the towel to the floor, forcing a neutral expression onto his face. A line from an album his father often listened to went through his head: "Button your lip, and don't let the shield slip. Take a fresh grip on your bullet-proof mask." He was knocked out of his reverie by the small form that rocketed into him. Ang's arms went around his waist as her small frame shook with the sobs that were being muffled by his shirt. He looked down at her and clumsily put his arms around the small, crying girl, unsure what to do. "Hey," he said softly. "It's ok. I survived and I'll be ok." She continued to cling to him and cry. Still confused and unsure what to do, David patted her shoulder, hearing himself actually saying the inane phrase that comes to all men the first time they face this: "There, there." Her arms finally relaxed a little and she stopped crying with what sounded to David like a series of small hiccups. She sniffled several times and, finally, looked up to meet his eyes. He looked down, and found himself suddenly lost in the glimmer-brightness of those golden eyes magnified behind thick glass. Without thinking or willing any movement at all his neck bent and the eyes and the imp-cute face behind them were growing larger in his vision. Then his lips touched hers and he lost himself entirely. Ang squeaked and tensed hard in his arms, her hands coming from around his back to his chest. But then she let out a light, throaty moan and her eyes closed, her hands roamed over his chest softly. David came back to his senses a moment later and stiffened up a bit himself, lifted his head slightly, and broke the contact between their lips. He heard a small sound come from Ang, a soft squeak like a kitten might make. As Ang's eyes fluttered slowly open, David thought to himself, "Wow. I just kissed a girl." A giggle burst from Ang as she looked up at him. "Really well, too, I think," she said with a soft sigh. David jumped a bit and, looking suddenly at the ceiling and blushing, managed to say, "I did it again, didn't I?" "Letting your thoughts come out of your mouth?" Ang asked, laughter lighting her voice. "Um hmm. Ya did." David sighed and looked down at the small form still in his arms. "Sorry." Her eyes twinkles and she said, "Don't be. I've been dreaming 'bout my first kiss..." and she added something else David couldn't make out. Before he could stop himself, David heard his voice say, "Me too." Ang's eyes widened, and she stared up at him before she blurted out, "You haven't?" David chuckled, but it was a dry, brittle, self-mocking sound. "What, LHS's weirdo and an embarrassment to his 'beautiful people' younger sister? Ang, I've never even had a _date_, much less the opportunity." She kept staring up at him, confusion covering her face. "But I've seen you talking to girls. Laughing with them!" Her eyes hardened, and her voice became accusatory. "I even saw one of those cheerleader-sluts hugging you in the hallway once!" Her voice actually snarled out, "Janice Coleman no less!" and she began to push against his chest with her hands. David recoiled slightly, but for some reason, one he couldn't identify, he kept his arms around her and tightened them to keep her close. "Yeah, I remember that. August, after I helped her change her D in Western Lit to a C+. She was almost kicked off the squad." Ang stopped pushing and her face softened a little. "She hugged you because you tutored her?" she squeaked out, her musical voice becoming somewhat pinched. David nodded. "Yep. And yes I talk to some girls. They all agree," he sighed and continued with a morose tone to his voice, "that I am a _great friend_." Ang looked thunderstruck for a moment and then burst out laughing, her arms going around his waist and her face burying itself in his chest again, her hard glasses digging in this time, but David didn't even try to shift. He did start to get angry, but then her muffled, burbling voice came from his chest. "Oh!" she said. "I...I'm sorry! Buh...but that's the k- kiss of death!" Her light, airy laughter suddenly washed away his anger and he started to laugh along with her. "Yeah," he got out, as hw became wracked by deep, belly laughs. "It is!" They both collapsed against each other, wheezing breaths in between bouts of laughter hard enough to shake both of them. It only became louder as David fell backward, Ang landing on top of him. When they finally stopped laughing, Ang reached down between them to hold her stomach and said, "Oh, I hurt!" David, still chuckling lightly, said, "Want me to kiss it better?" Ang's eyes went wide again and her eyes stared up at David over the top of her glasses. David stopped chuckling and felt himself blushing furiously. "I, ah, uhm," he stuttered out. "That is...hmm...uhm..." His mind wasn't blank, it was moving too fast for him to get _anything_ out. Ang suddenly blushed as well, opened her mouth, closed it, looked away, and pulled her hand out from between them to fidget with her fingers. "Oh, hell," David managed to think, careful to stay silent this time. "I've done it now. She'll never even _look_ at me again, and now it'll be Pervy Davey Wierdo all over LHS. Way to go, sport." Ang's voice, a hesitant, barely audible mewl, floated to his ears, sounding more like a question as she squeaked out, "Yes?" David's mouth went dry as Ang's blush became so bright he worried momentarily about her passing out. Then, slowly, she rolled off of him and onto her back. Her hands, trembling so hard the edges of them seemed to blur, gathered up the hem of her sweater and the t-shirt below, pulling them up to expose her incredibly white belly. Her eyes closed as David's became riveted on that widening patch of skin and he experienced what his mother had always laughingly called the "Gallant Reaction". He glanced up at Ang's face to make sure her eyes were closed, and they were, so tight that small folds showed on the eyelids and the corners crinkled. David quickly reached down and adjusted the sudden reaction, hiding it behind the fly of his pants as he thought, "Come on man! It's just her belly!" "Please?" floated down from Ang's lips as her whole body began to shake. David nodded, his mouth still dry as a desert as he studied her incredibly white skin. He noticed that she had a shallow "innie" belly button with just a hint of lint from her t-shirt. She also had just a little paunch just above her waist. Almost, but not quite, a small pot belly. David thought it looked perfect. He leaned over her, supported by a hand on either side of her waist, and bent his head down to place a single, soft kiss just above her belly button. As his lips touched, Ang let out a sharp gasp and wrapped her arms around his head, tightly, pressing the side of his face into her warm, soft stomach. Not really knowing why, David turned his head in her surprisingly soft grip to place another kiss, just below where her shirt had bunched up, a bottom ridge of one rib just barely showing. A loud shuddering gasp escaped Ang, ending in what sounded, to David, like a sob. He managed to lift his head slightly as a soft, almost hissing murmur reached his ears. He saw Ang's face then, and the constant murmuring, which was coming from her barely moving lips, became audible, but only just. She was saying "Please don't let me wake up this time," over and over again. "Ang," David said, very softly and her eyes flew open. "You aren't asleep." Ang's eyes rolled slowly down to look into David's as he hovered above her still-bare belly. "Oh," she said, and blushed redly again. "I wonder how far that blush goes down," David wondered to himself, and heard Ang gasp. He closed his eyes tightly and said, "I said that out loud again, didn't I?" "Uhm," Ang got out, softly, "yeah." "Great," David muttered, then opened his eyes to look up at her. "Look, I didn't..." "Wouldyouliketosee," Ang blurted out, all in one word. Before David could even process what he had just heard, Ang shrieked, "Oh, goddess! I can't believe I just said that!" David swallowed past the huge lump in his throat and croaked out, "Yeah, I would." He cleared his throat loudly. "But not yet." "Huh?" Ang squeaked out, looking down at his face again. "It wouldn't be..." David struggled for a moment, "right. It wouldn't be right, not yet." He looked up into her eyes and smiled. "Why?" she asked softly. David's eyes filled with tears and he silently cursed them as he said, "Yvette..." His throat had locked up and he lost the ability to speak. Her small hand came up from his shoulder to brush a tear from his face and that small kindness let him speak again. "Yvette let almost any guy see, touch, I think she did _it_ with some of em. Always a new one, every week, sometimes every day. It's...okay for some people, I guess. And it might be fun, I suppose..." He looked up at her again, through blurry eyes. "But it isn't what I want," he finished in a rush, the last word a sob as he buried his face into the soft skin below him. "Shhh," Ang whispered in her soft, sweet voice as her hand ran gently though his hair. "Shhh, you aren't alone anymore." Her other hand came up and she hugged David's head to her bare skin gently. "And neither am I, I think." ------------------------------------------------------ Unfortunately, all the people willing to edit my work have temporarily lost internet access. So any typos or glaring plot holes are my mistake alone. This story is copyrighted by me, the author, Waylan Dagger. Please do not repost this story or post it on an archive without obtaining permission first. I can almost guarantee that permission will be granted, but I would like the courtesy. I can be reached at waylandagger@hotmail.com