I’m Lucas Graye, and I am one of the gifted. I think Clara already explained to you what gifts are? Yes? Ok, good, I can go straight to my stories.
So did Clara tell you how she got her gift? No? Story time number one then. This is how I got my gift.
And it all began when I was asleep. No kidding, I wasn’t even awake when it happened.
In my dream, I thought I woke up, but everything was grayed out. No colour, but you could still differentiate light and dark. Then, a cloud of gray gas formed around my hand. It was a rather dark grey, even more so than a storm cloud. The cloud then formed into a sword, the blade about the length of my forearm. As I am now, not at that time. A sword the length of a third grader’s forearm would not be a very good sword.
Then, I saw some floating eyes, and somehow I knew I was supposed to do: slash at them with the sword. They bled a dark gray gas when I did that, darker than the cloud that formed my sword.
Something told me that the blade could cut anything.
“Anything?” I thought out loud, so I slashed around in the grayscale dreamscape.
Needless to say I made a really big mess as everything around me fell apart. Slash marks covered the walls.
“Yes,” I said to myself. “With this Daisy is gonna get what she deserves.”
Now I say she deserves to have her uniform slashed at because of what happened in grade 5. She recently moved into the school, and everybody, yes, everybody but me and Clara were head over heels for her. She probably got so used to the attention that she believed that she could do just about anything.
So when I won the first place award in the poetry writing contest and had a crowd of my own, Daisy got so mad at me that she tried punching me during my acceptance. Naturally I blocked her attack, and she screamed in pain.
And the school gave me detention for “assaulting a fellow student”, even though I was defending myself.
Humans, by nature, are dicks anyway. Even my best friends Clara and Jules are dicks. Man, I wish there wasn’t anyone else on this Earth. I’d probably be so much happier if that was the case.
The sword faded away, much to my surprise. The same gut feeling that said the sword could cut anything taught me how to get it back: close your eyes, ignore your senses, and focus on how much better the world will be with less people.
Once I figured that out, it was 4:00 AM—far too early to wake up. I decided to try forming the sword, following the steps my gut told me to, and when I opened my eyes, the sword I dreamed of had formed itself in my hand.
Then I made the foolish decision to slash the wall.
And it worked. There’s a slash on the wall.
Crap.
I dunno what else to say about this moment. I guess it’s time for Story Time number two. I think this should be familiar, since Clara tells her side of this story to a lot of people.
So you heard about how Clara tortured Jules for lifting her skirt? Well I saw everything. I saw her attune herself. Then when I attuned myself, I saw her arm. I didn’t wanna give myself away, so I hid my sword behind my back.
And when she gave the Nagasaki wedgie to Jules, I was outright terrified.
She’s used her hand in various ways ever since I saw her use it on Jules. She took his lunch, sealed his locker shut, even punching his nuts during class. I have to stop her.
Which brings me to Story Time number three.286Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRQtuDXSaYE
I hatched a plan—get out, go to Clara’s, and confront her. Negotiate ideally, but if that fails I’ll make my blade and attack. I might kill her. I hope not, but I wouldn’t mind if I did.
Sneaking out of the house is the easy part. I do it all the time just so I don’t have to see my family. Getting to Clara’s house… this will be a challenge. I know her address: 10 Clarence Street, which she was apparently named after.
The problem? I’ve never been to Clarence street, so I have no idea where it is. It’s still in Marqueza City, but I don't know where there. I'm gonna need to do some exploring. I have no idea why nobody has a map of the city, or why it doesn't appear in Omniscience. Like, seriously, an online atlas that claims to have a map of everything doesn't have a map of this city.286Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI8hBWfTCRg
Once I got there, I saw a silhouette on the second floor window. It stayed for a while, then promptly left. I think it left to get something.
In front of her ash wood door—don’t ask why I’m so familiar with what different tree species’s wood looks like, it’s a very long story—I thought about what I should do. I have to go to her somehow, but how?
Knock? Too obvious.
Cut the door down? Too obvious.
Enter through the window? Good luck to me getting there.
After what felt like thirty seconds of thinking, lo and behold, Clara opens the front door. We stare at each other for around five seconds before she started talking.
“The hell do you want?” Her eyes cut like daggers. Not as good a cut as my sword though.
“You’re an ass,” I tell her.
“At least I don’t have anything up mine.” Classic Clara.
“Seriously. You’ve used that hand to do nothing but hurt Jules.”
She responds by tuning herself. Moments later an apple flies towards her from behind—I assume she’s using her hand. “See, not nothing,” she remarks. When she takes a bite out of it, I close my eyes.
I think she said something along the lines of “Are you gifted?” I wouldn’t know, I was ignoring everything happening around me.
You should know what happens next.
“Oh boy,” I hear her say. Her grey arm drops the bitten apple, which rolls towards me.
Then the smug look returns to her face. “Pfft, what’s that gonna do to me?” she asks, daringly. Then she turns around, and at that moment I learn that the arm is attacked to her back.
The hand clenches into a fist and attempts to punch me. I slash her hand in response.
Then Clara became a banshee. Her scream pierced my ears, and it was so startling that I jumped a little. I didn’t notice until after what happens next, but my sword disappeared.
“Ow, my hand! It hurts like hell!” I hear her scream. She turns around to face me, clearly irritated. Her arm loomed above her like a scorpion’s stinger, the part I slashed bleeding out a gray gas much like the eyes in my “dream” did. I saw her eyes; Clara, THE Clara, the demon child herself, was crying, likely from the pain. She was clutching her right hand.
“I never want to see you ever again!” she says as she slams the door shut.
I found myself responding.
“Fine! I don’t need you in my life anyway!”
ns 172.70.127.111da2
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