Electric
written by Jade Lovegood-Scamander
Alex is new at being an orphan. Unsocial and distant, he's never really liked being around people. But one night, during a summer storm, he's struck with an idea. Felicity. Follow Alex's journey and watch him create his dreams--and fall in love with them. I'm still working on this, I only have the first chapter
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
3
Reads
390
June second, two thousand thirteen
Chapter 1
11:59 PM
Alex
Alex sat up, his heart racing inside his chest. A flash of lightning sounded outside his window. He counted. One, two, three, four, five. The thunder boomed like drums in a marching band, hurrying to catch up with the spectacular light show.
He stared at his clock until it turned midnight and the numbers 11:59 were replaced by 12:00. His gaze shifted to the window. The lightning was being flashy tonight, showing off its many paths of electricity. He tilted his head at it, determined not to blink, and started counting again. One, two, three-
The drums sounded, closer to the light show this time. It was getting closer. Alex’s vision kept darting around his room--to the overflowing trash cans where he’d stored every one of his terrible ideas to the flashlight next to his bed in case of emergency, to the piles of clothes on the floor and back to his clock, which now read 12:03. He looked at the desk every few seconds when the lightning flashed, surveying its messiness. Alex picked himself up off the bed and ran to the window, peering outside at the storm.
He looked back only to pick up an object at random from his side table and looked at it. Of course, it was the picture. He always chose the picture, whether he wanted to or not: his fingers needed to feel the groove of the frame like they did now, stroking the sides of the jewels. He never dared touch the actual picture, though: one of a couple holding hands, surrounded by flowers. The woman held in the crook of her arm a bouquet, and the man sported a dashing bowtie. They were both grinning happily. With care, he placed it back down and raced back to the window, fingering the metal latch. It was cool and smooth.
Alex blinked and tried to stumble backward; a powerful flash of lightning shone through his blinds. The drums no longer followed, but sounded at the same time. He felt an unknown force take hold of him, controlling him, making him convulse wildly. As he shivered and shook, he felt his feet leave the ground, supported by the sudden charge, and he was floating. He didn’t dare let go of the window. His hands hung onto it, knuckles gripping white, even as the flash of electricity threatened to pull them away and send him spinning off the earth. Or worse, burn his muscles off; then he’d be forced to let go and give in.
Suddenly, the force stopped; his body went limp, and he fell over on the wall. His brain could think of nothing but the word electricity, like an unsure, quaking heartbeat. His thoughts pounded against his skull, telling him to wait, to stop, to rest.
Suddenly, Alex was aware that the latch his fingers had held so tightly to was bur- ning white-hot, and he let go of it. He was pleased to see that his feet had never moved from their spot, rooted to the ground, forcing him to stare out the window. He wasn’t sure how much of the whole ordeal he just imagined. The shock in his nerves and his muscles told him he really had been electrocuted; the floating, though, may have just been paranoia. Alex didn’t know. It was so hard, too hard, to sort fact from fiction.
The rain plunked on. He saw another flash of lightning. One, two, three-- and there was the thunder, he was past the storm. Electricity. Electricity. He was vaguely aware of the smell of singed hair, and put it out with his fingers. His mouth was dry, like he had just licked a piece of cardboard. He swallowed and let out a shuddery breath, which loosened his chest but did nothing for the cardboard.
Alex yanked down his blinds and leapt back into his bed, listening to his nervous, lonely heart. With each lightning flash, he began to get nervous; but when the thunder proved farther and farther away, he relaxed. His thoughts traveled back to just a few seconds earlier, when he was fingering the picture frame. It lay on the floor, forgotten. He rolled over and picked it up, hoping against hope that the glass wasn’t broken.
It wasn’t. He stared at it longer, at the couple’s evident happiness; the man’s clear joy radiating through the picture, the woman’s happiness, pure and wondrous, showing through her smile. When Alex looked in the mirror, he saw the man’s wide smile, and he saw the woman’s eyes, dark and curious. He replaced the photo and rolled onto his back.
But something stopped Alex from falling asleep.
His mind was electric.
Alex
Alex sat up, his heart racing inside his chest. A flash of lightning sounded outside his window. He counted. One, two, three, four, five. The thunder boomed like drums in a marching band, hurrying to catch up with the spectacular light show.
He stared at his clock until it turned midnight and the numbers 11:59 were replaced by 12:00. His gaze shifted to the window. The lightning was being flashy tonight, showing off its many paths of electricity. He tilted his head at it, determined not to blink, and started counting again. One, two, three-
The drums sounded, closer to the light show this time. It was getting closer. Alex’s vision kept darting around his room--to the overflowing trash cans where he’d stored every one of his terrible ideas to the flashlight next to his bed in case of emergency, to the piles of clothes on the floor and back to his clock, which now read 12:03. He looked at the desk every few seconds when the lightning flashed, surveying its messiness. Alex picked himself up off the bed and ran to the window, peering outside at the storm.
He looked back only to pick up an object at random from his side table and looked at it. Of course, it was the picture. He always chose the picture, whether he wanted to or not: his fingers needed to feel the groove of the frame like they did now, stroking the sides of the jewels. He never dared touch the actual picture, though: one of a couple holding hands, surrounded by flowers. The woman held in the crook of her arm a bouquet, and the man sported a dashing bowtie. They were both grinning happily. With care, he placed it back down and raced back to the window, fingering the metal latch. It was cool and smooth.
Alex blinked and tried to stumble backward; a powerful flash of lightning shone through his blinds. The drums no longer followed, but sounded at the same time. He felt an unknown force take hold of him, controlling him, making him convulse wildly. As he shivered and shook, he felt his feet leave the ground, supported by the sudden charge, and he was floating. He didn’t dare let go of the window. His hands hung onto it, knuckles gripping white, even as the flash of electricity threatened to pull them away and send him spinning off the earth. Or worse, burn his muscles off; then he’d be forced to let go and give in.
Suddenly, the force stopped; his body went limp, and he fell over on the wall. His brain could think of nothing but the word electricity, like an unsure, quaking heartbeat. His thoughts pounded against his skull, telling him to wait, to stop, to rest.
Suddenly, Alex was aware that the latch his fingers had held so tightly to was bur- ning white-hot, and he let go of it. He was pleased to see that his feet had never moved from their spot, rooted to the ground, forcing him to stare out the window. He wasn’t sure how much of the whole ordeal he just imagined. The shock in his nerves and his muscles told him he really had been electrocuted; the floating, though, may have just been paranoia. Alex didn’t know. It was so hard, too hard, to sort fact from fiction.
The rain plunked on. He saw another flash of lightning. One, two, three-- and there was the thunder, he was past the storm. Electricity. Electricity. He was vaguely aware of the smell of singed hair, and put it out with his fingers. His mouth was dry, like he had just licked a piece of cardboard. He swallowed and let out a shuddery breath, which loosened his chest but did nothing for the cardboard.
Alex yanked down his blinds and leapt back into his bed, listening to his nervous, lonely heart. With each lightning flash, he began to get nervous; but when the thunder proved farther and farther away, he relaxed. His thoughts traveled back to just a few seconds earlier, when he was fingering the picture frame. It lay on the floor, forgotten. He rolled over and picked it up, hoping against hope that the glass wasn’t broken.
It wasn’t. He stared at it longer, at the couple’s evident happiness; the man’s clear joy radiating through the picture, the woman’s happiness, pure and wondrous, showing through her smile. When Alex looked in the mirror, he saw the man’s wide smile, and he saw the woman’s eyes, dark and curious. He replaced the photo and rolled onto his back.
But something stopped Alex from falling asleep.
His mind was electric.
