Jericho sat at his kitchen table after coming back from a jog. His mom Darci was finishing up cooking breakfast. He devoured a plate of sunny-side-up eggs as his forehead beaded with sweat. When his mom finished cooking the sausages, he feasted upon them just as quickly.

“Third time running this week,” Darci said.

“I ran an extra mile today,” Jericho said. “I think I might have to up my intensity.”

“Remember to take it easy and stay within your limits.”

“I know, but pushing myself is how I make progress.”

Darci placed a plate full of sausages on the table, then placed a couple into a container filled with salad.

“Make sure you eat some vegetables.” Darci pointed at another bowl of salad. “You can’t just eat meat.”

“There’s something about exercising that makes me only want to eat meat,” Jericho said. He obliged and filled his plate with more food. “What time are you coming home?”

“Probably 7,” She said.

Darci rushed to get her belongings together, said goodbye, and left.

Jericho stared at the clock. 6:20 A.M.

He was never the morning person, but he preferred running when nobody else was around to bother him. He also enjoyed the cool, morning air that hugged him so tightly. There was something about hearing birds chirp and being on the edge of freezing that made him feel alive.

Jericho had the day ahead of him. It was another day of not knowing what he was going to do, and eventually just not doing anything at all. He spent the prior whole day watching documentaries about abilities, with fun movies in between, while researching for possible things he should do. Technically, he was doing something, but it felt like nothing to him.

He was still ability-less. He had not told anyone, even his mother was still under the impression that he was having his regular appointments with Dr. Yohan, which was not entirely a lie since he did have a virtual appointment in a few hours. Still, he did not want to disappoint his mother or get her hopes up. She was working hard and spending her paychecks on him after all.

***

The excruciating hours came to pass, and it was eventually 8:55 AM. Despite setting up an appointment, he still felt it pointless and wondered if the appointment really was needed. What was Dr. Yohan going to say that Jericho had not thought of? Still, Dr. Yohan was a professional, and Jericho supposed that the professional would have something useful to say.

Jericho sat behind his computer screen until a chime notified a new attendee. Dr. Yohan connecting… appeared on the screen.

“Hello, Jericho!” Dr. Yohan said. The doctor’s webcam turned on and buffered momentarily, so a static Dr. Yohan with a half-open mouth greeted him.

“Hey,” Jericho said flatly.

“How’s progress?”

“Bad.”

“And?” Dr. Yohan said.

And? Well, I have an ability that is yet to awaken, and I am growing restless with each passing day. I could hardly sleep last night, and I had to do a few hundred push-ups before I passed out from exhaustion and finally went to bed.

“Don’t know,” Jericho said. “Just having trouble with my ability, that’s all.”

“I see,” Dr. Yohan said. “What things have you done.”

Jericho explained the situation about how he finished the first phase the same day as the extraction, and how he then proceeded to rent out a storage unit, which he ultimately canceled, and how that he was now exercising, particularly jogging to awaken and complete the second phase.

“Interesting,” Dr. Yohan said.

This signaled to Jericho that the doctor knew nothing, and the dismay clearly showed on Jericho’s face.

“You red auras are different,” Dr. Yohan said. He sure knew how to catch Jericho’s attention and hope and pick it right back up. “I think you already finished your second phase.”

If Jericho had an ability that showed a physical question mark over his head, now would be the time it would pop up.

“What?” Jericho said.

“I think you already have your power,” Dr. Yohan said. “You’ve been lying around doing nothing when you already have it.”

“How are you so sure?”

“As I said, you red auras are different. If I were you, I would just test around and see what powers you might have. It’s like riding a bike. Just try to hop on it and see how far you can go.” He paused. “I also have the feeling that you don’t want my help.”

Dr. Yohan was right about that. He supplied Jericho with just enough information to jumpstart another tirade.

Jericho thanked Dr. Yohan and closed down the application window.

***

Jericho conjured up a list of basic abilities: Speed, strength, flight, invisibility, and telekinesis. He figured this was a good starting point. If he needed to add more, then he would.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He immediately crossed off speed because if he had that then running would be a breeze for him. He hesitantly crossed off strength too, since none of the exercises he had done in the past few days showed any extraordinary physical prowess. He went to his backyard to push down a tree but only received weird looks from his neighbors. Next was flight.

Jericho looked down from his townhouse’s roof. He was never much a fan of heights, and he would hate to have a power that would put him so high.

That’s stupid. He thought. If I had the ability to fly, then heights would be okay.

Would it really be okay? His stomach turned as he peered down. He was not even that high, and he shuddered in place, trapped in fear. He would not die if he fell from this high, but he also would not get hurt unless he was an idiot and fell the wrong way.

Jericho scooted away from the edge and perused through the article about the flight ability again. This was his third time reading it. Practically, the article suggested he jump and just imagine himself flying. It was really top-notch advice for a person who did not know if they could fly or not. Bungee jumping and parachuting off a plane, or being unwillingly pushed out, were out of the question, at least at this moment, so this was all he had.

Jericho took a deep breath and jumped forward. The fall happened much faster than he anticipated, and he landed without bending his knees. Pain shot through his body and continued as his body sprung itself forward landing on his head. Flight was not it.

Next was invisibility. This one was quite easy since he could see the neighborhood children now laughing at him. Even if Jericho tried to make himself invisible, he would still be on the ground in pain. What was next?

He rolled himself over. Relief crossed his body as it turned back to a more natural state.

He remembered now: It was telekinesis.

Using his genius brain, Jericho gripped the nearest rock and instantly tossed it straight into the air. With the trajectory, it would land-

The pebble struck him right between the eyes and he yelled in frustration. His hands rubbed at the spot furiously, looking for quick relief.

Jericho wondered if he had a concussion from falling, or maybe even a broken leg. No, he doubted the broken leg. He would be in so much more pain, but a concussion was plausible. Maybe if he just rested for a bit, then he would-

Jericho snapped open his eyes. The sky was now dark. How long was he out?

“What are you doing?” His mom laughed. She had a bat in her hand. “You scared me for a second.”

“Oh, hey,” Jericho said. His mouth started speaking on its own. “I think I might have an ability, but no promises on that.”

“Really!” His mom said, the glee in her voice clear.

“Yeah, I’m kind of running out of ideas of what it could be,” He said as he positioned himself up. “How’s your day?”

“Same as usual,” His mom said. “Though, there’s a girl I was taking care of. She was supposed to have a severe, fatal blow to her head a few days ago, but the thing is when she arrived, she was completely okay.”

“Wow, that’s weird. Glad she’s okay though,” Jericho said. “Wait, she’s fine but still in the hospital?”

“They’re doing tests and monitoring her. They think she has the power to heal.”

“How old is she?” Jericho said.

“She’s around eight.”

“Eight?” Surprise exuded from him.

“I know. Weird age to have an ability.”

“I guess some people are just lucky like that.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll find your ability eventually. You just need that extra push.” Darci said. “I’d hug you, but I just came from work.”

Jericho laughed.

“Well, I’m going to get cleaned up, meal prep a bit, then order something for dinner. Sushi sound good?”

“It does.”

“Well, I’ll let you continue.”

His mom left, and he went back to figuring out his power.

Healing?

Jericho touched his legs, and they surprisingly did not hurt. Well, it is not like a fall would necessarily injure his legs, but the way he fell was still scuffed. He also did not have a throbbing headache, nor dizziness, nor any confusion so a concussion was out of the question. He cautiously arose, and none of his body parts hurt. He figured he was in the clear.

Jericho walked to his mom’s garden, looked for the few roses, and squatted down. He spotted a rose full of thorns. His index finger pressed slightly, just enough to feel pressure, but not enough to break skin. He hesitated. Perhaps, he should find another method of injuring himself, to test out a healing ability.

Jericho spotted a stem filled with thorns and wrapped his hand around it. The thorned points pressed against his hand, pushing him away. The biological sensors in Jericho’s brain were pleading him to stop, to release his hand, but Jericho fought against it. He clenched the stem tighter, but it was still not enough to break skin. He slowly increased his grip, until eventually his brain gave up and his skin finally broke.

Blood trickled down from Jericho’s palm. He immediately yanked the rose from its roots, and more blood seeped from his hand. He was careful not to drip any blood on his mother’s garden and made his way to the hose. His blood continued to fall as he held onto his grip.

“I can heal,” Jericho said. He sat there astounded, his hand still clutching onto the stem. He did not know how he knew, but he did. His ability was to heal.

Jericho clenched even harder, the thorns bit and dug into his skin. All the pain, all the anguish, all the despair, the hate, hope, and love were put into holding that stem. Tighter and tighter, Jericho held onto the stem. He gritted his teeth, bit his tongue, flexed his body, and whatever else he could to keep going, to keep holding the rose. Blood poured out more profusely, but he kept going. He had to make sure, to know that this was not all a fluke, not a dream, but that this was real.

It was as if Jericho were making a pact, a commitment, one that he knew he could make, but also one that he wanted to do his best in. This was a pact with the rose, a pact with himself.

Jericho finally dropped the rose, his blood courted the stem staining its every inch. He stared at his hand, waiting for something to happen, waiting for it to heal.

Blood continued to drop, and the holes in his hands began to appear more distinguishable. If he could not heal, then he had a lot of explaining to do, and most likely a hospital visit. Maybe that girl could help heal his hand.

He tried to close his fist and immediately recoiled. His hand began to shake, and it burned and ached with the slightest movement.

Heal. Jericho thought. His breathing grew ragged, an uncertainty on his mind.

Slowly, the holes in his hands began to close, repaired as if they were never cut open. Jericho tried again, steadily this time, and clenched and unclenched his fist. No pain at all. Just a normal, functional hand.

Jericho took off his hoodie and dried up the blood from his body and the rose. He hosed away any remaining blood from the ground, careful to not leave anything for his mom to find. He wrapped the hoodie around the rose, then did his best to clean himself up in the half bath. His mom took longer showers, so he would have to wait before he could properly clean himself up.

Jericho stared at the time. 8:20 PM. Then he looked at his hand.

It was now clean, and any sign or trace of blood was now wiped away. He inspected it deeply for any signs of damage, but it was as if nothing had happened to it.

Jericho was a healer. He healed his hand. The thoughts rushed in his head repeatedly.

Jericho grabbed the bat his mom kept for intruders and ran outside. He swung it at full velocity, shattering his foot. Twang! His legs gave in and he fell to the ground. A cry would have let out, but he burrowed his mouth into his arm and only a small murmur rang.

Jericho nervously stared at his leg as if he had not just broken every bone in his foot. He tried applying pressure on his right foot to stand right back up, but he stumbled back down. Watery tears began to form in his eyes.

“Heal!” Jericho yelled into his arm again.

His foot instantly healed, and every bit of pain he had felt just moments ago was now gone. Jericho pushed down on his foot and sprang up onto his feet.

He fell back down onto his knees. The converted tears began to streak down from his face.

And he cried.