Category: Random Stories

**This story was written for the following prompt: “You have a useless superpower where you gain a random power each day that prepares you for the events stored in the day. Why this is useless? They’re all subtle, like summoning an extra toilet roll. Then, one day, you wake up with eldritch, god-like powers.”**

When I woke up, the door almost smacked me in the face.

I opened my eyes to be an inch away from my bedroom door, which was usually a few steps away. I blinked. Suddenly, the door was about a step away. I raised an eyebrow. Okay, zoom-eyes today. I blinked a few more times before I saw the familiar distance.

That was weird. My powers don’t usually matter much. This was a useful power. I never had a useful power.

I dismissed it. Maybe I needed it today.

I brushed my teeth, took a shower and dressed myself. I disconnected my phone from the charger. It turned on as the cord left the socket. There was a calendar notification: “education thing today – dress well!: 11:00 Today.”

“Ohh.” I said. The zoom-eyes suddenly made sense. The President was coming to the University today. He was an alumnus. He was making a speech. I’ve got zoom-eyes to get a better look at him.

I packed my good suit.

A briefcase in my hand, I walked out of my house, over to my car. On my way out, I saw my neighbour. I nodded in his direction, and he smiled back. “Wow, what a weirdo.” he said.

I stopped dead. “Excuse me?” I said, turning around.
“What?” he said.
“What do you mean, ‘what’?”
“Jack, are you OK?” he said, very closely followed by, “What. A. Weirdo.” The weird thing was, his lips didn’t move with his second statement.

I frowned. Then my eyes widened. Telepathy.

“I didn’t say anything.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and quickly got into my car.
“That guy’s a damn quack.” he thought, as I peeled away in my car.

Zoom-eyes and telepathy. Two in a day. And two actual powers today!

But what did that mean? I always, always used my powers. Not like this, with the door almost smacking me, and my neighbour calling me a weirdo. But in actual life, when I needed the powers the most. When there’s no toilet paper in the toilet, I make it out of thin air. When I need to check papers, I have super-fast writing. What the hell would I need telepathy for?

I got to the University, went to my office, and checked the time-table. I had to teach a lecture until 10:30. Then, the President. I nodded to myself, and walked to the class. It was a flight of stairs, a long corridor and another flight of stairs away.

It wasn’t a great lecture. It was the noisiest class I’ve ever had to teach. I heard bored students and preoccupied children. I couldn’t concentrate. The disturbance went from annoying to enraging. The rage kept building up inside me for no reason whatsoever. In my rage, I threw a whiteboard marker across the room at a student. As soon as it left my hand, I realized what I’d done. Come back.

In mid-air, the pen turned and flew back at me. I caught it as if it had come and landed in my hand. My brain acted before it could comprehend what just happened, and the student started. It had looked like I just aimed the pen at the dude’s head, and not actually thrown it. But I definitely saw it go towards him, and turn back.

That was a new power.

That was almost telekinesis.

My heart was beating. There’s no way I could go on teaching the class. I checked the clock. 10:25. “Ok, class dismissed!” I said, and slammed my briefcase shut. I stormed out of the class and headed right back for my office.

The door to my office slammed into my face.

What the hell?!

I looked back. I looked around. I was in my office. Only a second ago, I was in the class. The class was far away.

My eyes widened as I realized what had happened.

Not three powers. Four.

I had superspeed, too.

This had to be connected to the President somehow. He was coming here. There’s no way my having four such high-level powers in one day, let alone one. I checked the clock. 10:27. Preparations for the president would start any time now. I just had to check one thing.

Inside my office, I looked at a pen in my pen-stand. I stuck out my hand. Almost immediately, the pen flew into my hand.

Telekinesis.

Telekinesis, telepathy, superspeed, and zoom-eyes.

I always used every one of my powers.

There was only one explanation to all this.

The President of the United States was going to be assassinated today.

And I’m the only one who can stop it.

Naresh hit the breaks to his cycle. The traffic signal blared a brilliant red, making most cars around him stop. He drummed his hands on the handles and hummed, when he was interrupted by a honk.

Naresh rolled his eyes. The signal was RED. RED means STOP. Didn’t this idiot go to pre-shcool? He turned around. “Hey, kid,” said the guy on the motorcycle behind him. It was a sleek black Harley-Davidson. “Go on, will ya?”

Naresh sighed. “Sorry, sir, but the signal’s red.”

The motorcyclist became angry. “What did you say to me? Who cares about some stupid light on some stupid pole? D’you see any police?”

It was Naresh’s turn to be angry. Who did this guy think he was? How did the rules not apply to him? Prick.

“Sorry, sir, but you have to be patient. Other people also need to get somewhere.”

“Did you just tell me to stay patient? Do you even know who the hell you’re talking to? Know your place, boy. Learn it before I make a dent in your tiny little face!”

Naresh turned his back to the colossal jerk. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need obnoxious butts to tell him about ‘his place’. He didn’t need-

He was pulled off the cycle and thrown onto the hood of a car. “Crap-nosed little-” began the motorcyclist as he raised his fist. It came down in a wide arc upon Naresh’s face, and blood flew in all directions. The fist went up again. “DON’T TURN YOUR BACK ON ME!” roared the motorcyclist, bringing his hand down yet again. Naresh braced himself for impact. He closed his eyes and screamed. But the blow never came. He looked up to see that someone had held his assailant back. “Are you out of your mind?!” cried his saviour. “That’s a kid you’re beating up!”

“Get off me, you prick!” snarled the motorcyclist. “Get back here, you pinprick!”

Naresh slid off the hood and ran in the opposite direction. He could hear the anger-ridden screams of the motorcyclist, as he ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He felt a pair of hands grab him and push him to the ground. Then, once again, the fist came down. This time, it hit its mark. Another shower of blood followed.

Naresh was dazed. He couldn’t feel anything. He was vaguely aware of being carried away. He saw the outlines of a car, as the driver asked him questions in a muffled voice. The last thing he saw was the green of a traffic signal.

The school bus rattled along the busy street. It was an especially quiet day. Laxman stared out of the window at the pavement on the other side of the street.

A little too late, Laxman noticed a brick flying right at him. “GET DOWN!” Laxman cried, ducking. The brick sailed into the bus, shattering against a girl, who passed out cold, and everything exploded into chaos.

Every car around the bus stopped. People came out with guns ablaze. The bus driver got up. “EVERYBODY SIT DOWN!” he bellowed, shooting his pistol at the ceiling of the bus.

The bus became quiet, but from outside, gunshots assaulted Laxman’s ears. The bus conductor was shooting anyone who tried to get into the bus. Laxman got in his seat and looked outside the window. What he saw scarred him for life.

The street was painted in blood. People were getting riddled with bullets. Every bullet that entered a person’s body erupted in blood, as it splattered the street with red. The worst was when it entered their heads. The head shattered, pieces of skull and brain flying in every direction.

A man ran at the bus. The driver aimed his pistol and fired. The man exploded right outside Laxman’s window. Blood splashed on Laxman’s face. He screamed, trying to wipe it off, but it only became worse. “Shut up!” yelled the driver, his weapon pointed at his forehead. Laxman’s blood froze.

“I-I-I’m sorry, I-” he whimpered.
“Shut the hell up NOW!”
“I’m s-s-sorry-” Laxman began to cry.
The driver yelled in frustration and fired.

Laxman saw the bullet soar through the air, cutting through his skin like butter. Every nerve erupted in pain. The last thing he remembered was the spark of light, as the world went black.

Ishita pedaled as hard as she could and as fast as she could. She had done a horrible thing, and she regretted it. Why did she succumb to the charm she distinctly remembered calling creepy? Why did she have to go and hold Manoj’s hand like that? What power in heaven decided that that should be the point where her boyfriend, Akshay walked into sight?

The weather had been wonderful on that winter night. She had seen the bouquet of roses fall from Akshay’s hand as her hand quickly retracted, and she shot straight up from the bench they’d been sitting on. Manoj hadn’t moved a muscle. He knew that Akshay was weak. A fight would have ended badly. Akshay, however, was smarter. He just gave a cold look into Ishita’s eyes and simply walked out, as if Manoj wasn’t even worth looking at.

Therefore, Ishita was cycling down the streets of Pune to get to Akshay’s house, three kilometers away. She was going dangerously fast, but she didn’t care. She knew that Akshay would not forgive her, but she would not let it go down in history that she had done such a thing and not felt sorry about it. She swerved through the cars like an expert and could have mastered the Tour de France easily. She noticed the turn for Akshay’s and a red street light. She decided that traffic rules could wait and turned. A loud honk filled her ears, and she felt a sharp pain throughout her body. After that, she saw nothing. She was vaguely aware of being taken somewhere with loud sirens … was that an ambulance?

The last thing she remembered was the multiple doctors standing around her for a very brief second, and then … darkness.