John | By: Clay T. Chapman | | Category: Short Story - Mystery Bookmark and Share


He stood in the corner, because he got in trouble for writing during story time, he wrote, 1,12. The teacher made him stand in the corner because he was ignoring the teacher. She continued reading when John said something.

“What John?” She said softly
“Come here,” He told here still looking in the corner.
She got up and walked to him, at that instant, a baseball went flying through the window and smashed a lamp on the teacher’s desk, it went directly over the chair where he head would have been.
“Knock Knock,” John said.
The teacher was still shocked from the baseball, but at that time, someone knocked on the door. She opened the door and the janitor stood there and told her what happened with the kids playing baseball.
John closed his eyes, he never liked the janitor, the janitor got him in trouble during recess when he was playing on the slide and the janitor blamed him for a dent in the new slide that he didn’t even do.
John kept his eyes closed, and then it happened. The janitor yelled out in pain, his arm was bleeding uncontrollably. The nurse and teachers rushed to him, but there were no woons, blood just gushed from his body at that instant, and stopped.
John opened his eyes.

The teacher told the principle, the principle told the superintendent, no one knew what happened.
The teacher was out the next day and a substitute teacher was in her place. John drew on his paper the numbers, 1 and 12. The substitute saw this and took the paper from him.
“John,” she said soft and sweetly, “I asked you not to draw.”
John took out another piece of paper and wrote something. He handed it to the teacher and she read it.
“Sit,” she said questionably, “What does that mean?”
Suddenly, there was a loud crack in the room and the substitute fell. He legs had broke at that instant. She cried out, some kids tried to help her, others went for help, but John just smiled.

“John,” the man in the suit said, “You have a secret that you are not telling us, don’t you?”
John just sat in the room with the window on the side. He said nothing.
“John,” the man said, but before he could say anything else, John raised his hand, palm facing the man. He looked down at the hand.
“John, what’s the…” but before he could finish, he was jolted back through the window and into the people behind the glass.
“I didn’t ask to be possessed,” he exclaimed.
“John, your not possessed,” one of the men said.
“Then what am I?” John asked viciously.
“Calm yourself John,” the man said, “don’t get angry, you have a telepathic field of energy all around you.”
The man was guessing, he had no idea what this boy was.

The next day, John sat at home, the people in the black suits were coming soon. Suddenly, he jumped up and yelled his teacher’s name. His mother rushed in asking what happened, he could only say channel 4, now.
She turned on the TV to channel 4, and there was a car crash at the site of a news report, a drunk driver had killed John’s teacher. John narrowed his eyes angrily.

The next day, John’s room was gone, blown out of the house, literally. Police, secret service, the whole 9 yards, they were all there. John was on the roof looking down to them.
“I don’t want to hurt any more people!” he yelled out. And at that time, he jumped.

He did survive, barely, he lost his telepathic gift though. Scientists were baffled, no one knew what to think. The school was cleaning out his cubby when they saw a paper with the numbers 1,12 on it. They opened it and inside it said this:
‘Forgive me’
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