Chapter One

A Secret Spark

      Ever since he made the first spark fly from the palm of his hand, hidden deep in his closet night after night attempting to levitate his baseball, the very thought of telling his parents consumed young Temple Road. Would they be proud or maybe they'd be mad at him for practicing on his own? His father had firmly said, “When you want to practice, you must ask me first, and we'll practice safely together.” A secret formed, no harm in a little spark. His dad would surely get over it once he saw his boy levitate the ball. He'd smile and hug Temple, telling him, “I'm so proud of you Temp.” He’d even rub his head.

      Then the thought of his spark and the smile on his father's face slipped away into nothingness as quickly as it came and he drifted half asleep to the forehead wrinkling scent of pine trees and pancakes. Inhaling fond sweetness from the air Temple's taste buds danced at the tip of his tongue. Visions flashed through his mind of a family trip when they'd all gone camping by the lake and one of a trip to a white sandy beach and in both thoughts they had their families famous annual vacation breakfast.

      Temple rolled over and scratched a scar running from his knee to ankle. Remembering how he followed his older brother Tar into grand adventures and serious mischief. His brother didn't make the trip this year due to his training. Temple knew his own time would soon come enough and was very proud of Tar for being accepted into the Prestigious Master's Program at the Complex Alternative Communications Facility. Like their father before them, soon his brother Tar, would be called "C.A.C. Master Road” and work under their father's command.

With his toes, Temple worked the worn red and blue plaid sheet to the bottom of the bed; then his feet swung to the rough cut pine floor. He looked around wondering where he was. Nothing, not even his pillow looked familiar. Voices coming through the crack under the wooden door, brought it all back, rushing into his memory.

      "Oh yeah, I can't believe I almost forgot. We're in a treehouse, a real tree house."His eyes sprung open, the thoughts of the adventures to come, ran through his little mind.

      “Wow, This place is better than mom said.”

      Temple looked around at his room taking in the ancient construction of the treehouse. The ceiling was built of bark covered beams, honed smooth on the sides that held the thatched hay roof infused with a smell you can only find when you lay in the middle of a tall grass field on a sunny October morning. The walls stacked from twelve-inch round birch trees supported the beams without thought. Temple couldn't remember coming in last night. His dad must have carried him in from the car.

      “I bet I'll find some great stuff today on our hike, and we’re going to see a real volcano today! I hope I get to go down inside. That’s where I'll show them, yeah that's a perfect place.” Temple smiled.

      He knew no one had noticed him practicing, and Temple hadn't dared told a soul. His ball didn't levitate much, but he did make it move. Temple was sure of that. The spark had only been the beginning; now he could raise his ball above his palm and had to show his parents.

      Temple leaped from his bed and scrambled to the door. Running out of his room he entered into the central living room-kitchen area of the treehouse. His mother stood across the room cleaning up at the sink. As Temple approached still crusty eyed, he caught sight of the old log table, tucked around the corner, which held leftovers of the meal Temple waited for patiently every vacation.

      “Good morning sleepy head. You missed breakfast. I made you a plate, hurry up and eat. We’re still getting ready for the hike to the volcano.” Temple's mother said.

     “Ok, Mom. Where's dad?”

     “In the shower, honey.”

     “I'm starving. It looks amazing mom! Grandma would be jealous.”

     Temple pulled up a seat to the table and sipped homemade orange juice. Then picked up the butter he and his mother had made and spread it on a pile of steaming hot, wild blueberry pancakes, the ones with the crispy edges, the ones his mother knew he loved. He proceeded to soak the pancakes with the maple syrup from his grandmother's backyard, then finally finished his plate up with a piece of thick, smoky bacon.

      It wasn't the fact that it tasted so incredibly, utterly, ridiculously delicious. It was that it had all been homemade by himself, his grandmother, and mother. The time they spent together picking the berries and churning the butter, long ago became an old and sacred tradition, a rare treat to find nowadays. Nothing was homemade anymore, well, almost nothing.

     After stuffing his face with the much-anticipated breakfast, Temple threw on his jacket and ran to the rugged wood door leading out to the deck. Reaching for the door with his right-hand Temple’s left hand bumped something hard in his little coat pocket.

     “Oh no,” he said to himself. He had almost completely forgotten that he brought his baseball. Quickly he pulled it out of his pocket, rubbed it clean, and looked it over carefully.

     “Don't let me down.” He said very seriously looking back to make sure no one heard him.

Then with a half smile, Temple Road shoved the ball deep in his pocket. A pat-pat made sure it was still there, then his hand squeezed around his trusty ball through his jacket, his palm became warmer than normal.

He stepped out onto the wrap-around cedar deck and looked over the make-shift branch railing. His hand slid from the ball and fell limply to his side. At the same time, a faint mist swirled from his palm and disappeared, mixing into the air. Peering over the rail, he felt a little dizzy, making him wonder how far away the ground was and not sure if he'd ever climbed a tree that high before or not. Stepping onto the pulley-operated elevator, he wrapped his hands firmly around the thick rope used to pull it up and down. Hand over hand, he carefully lowered himself. On the ground, he called up to the treehouse and pulled the rope bringing the platform up to his parents.

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     “Come on.  Let's go guys!”

     “Come on guys. I'm down here, ready to go!”

     “I'll be right down honey. I'm just helping Daddy set up his drone,” his mother replied.

     The drone hummed out one of the windows. After a couple of rounds around the treehouse, it turned and headed right at Temple. As the drone approached, he could see his father's face projected as a hologram.

     “Temp, I'm going to stay back and get things fine-tuned. I'll catch up to you and mommy soon with old “D” here. Send me some pics when you get there,” his father said cheerfully.

     “D” or Detroit was his father’s nickname for the drone. He told Temple he called it that because “D” had been the first model to come out of the repurposed automobile manufacturing plant in Detroit. Which now housed the largest drone manufacturing facility in the world. Detroit was made of "good old hybrid organic Detroit steel,” his father said.

     Temple and his mother hiked for two miles up the steep, winding trail towards the volcano. When they finally reached the volcano’s rim, Temple cautiously approached its edge. His heart beat increased, as he imagined what it would be like to peer down into the smoldering hole that had been created in the earth so long ago. Temple wondered how his mother would react to his powers once he showed her. A little part of him felt relieved his dad hadn't arrived yet.

     Standing on the very crest between the trail heading down to the treehouse and the edge of the volcano, Temple held his mother's hand and smiled. Red lava bubbled and splattered below them. But soon the volcano's heat became uncomfortable in Temple’s face, within seconds and he turned away pulling his mother with him back to the path.

     “Mommy, I need to show you something.” He said.

     “What is it, Temple?”

     Temple pushed his hand down into his pocket and gripped the ball in his left hand. He looked around, dizzy the light ached in his eyes.

     “Why am I in the woods?” He thought.

     Instead of oaks and maples with crunchy soil, he saw sparse cedar trees and stood on a dirt path next to gray and black rocks straight up and down like when he when went skiing. His baseball lay strewn across the trail in smoldering pieces. The left pocket of his red jacket was melted away with white stuffing falling out. Temple stood and stared.The night came fast. As the sunlight faded from the sky, it opened, releasing a torrential downpour. Rain filled the dry cracks beneath Temples' feet, saturating the dusty trail. Water on the ground beaded quickly, then ran down the path to its steep edge.

     The night came fast. As the sunlight faded from the sky, it opened, releasing a torrential downpour. Rain filled the dry cracks beneath Temples' feet, saturating the dusty trail. Water on the ground beaded quickly, then ran down the path to its steep edge.

     A memory flashed in Temple’s mind of the morning's breakfast and his mother's beautiful smile. Rain dripped from Temple everywhere. Wet and shivering he wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, looking around aimlessly.

     “Mommy where are you?” He didn't know what to thinkHe heard nothing, then began to walk in circles and looked behind the few nearby pine trees. Eventually, he reached the edge of the cliff opposite the volcano to the path below; he cautiously peered over the edge.

     He heard nothing, then began to walk in circles and looked behind the few nearby pine trees. Eventually, he reached the edge of the cliff opposite the volcano to the path below; he cautiously peered over the edge.

Below him, on the lower bend of the trail, his mother's body lay sprawled over jagged rocks. Temple stumbled back and fell on his bottom, slashing mud into his face. He raised his hands to wipe his face, but stopped short and just stared. His left palm burnt black, like the marks on his mother.

      Temple panicked, then checked over the rest of his body but found nothing. Only his left hand was hurt. Small patches of skin burnt off. The skin on his palm especially bubbled, oozing clear fluid. Dull pain sank deep within his bones and grew increasingly more intense with every second. It made it difficult to think. His vision blurred and the stench of his burnt flesh filled his nostrils making him a little nauseous. Not knowing what to do, he stood still, feeling his pain, crying, staring at his hand, and his mother. The rain beat him harder than he'd ever remembered. His brown hair matted down to his forehead.

       “I don't want to be alone in the woods. I'm scared Mommy, get up!” He yelled at her.

      “Mom, did you jump, why are you down there?”

      “Should I jump too, Mommy? Should I jump?”

       After moments of waiting, Temple remembered grabbing his ball, then his mind flashed a blinding yellow blast, and he couldn't remember anything else.

       “Should I jump mom? Should I jump? Mom! Mommy!” Temples howled, his high-pitched voice piercing the rain-filled sky. He cupped his hands to his ears, bent over the cliff and listened for her voice. He heard pounding rain. Why was she ignoring him?

      “Are you OK are you hurt?” Switching his gaze from hand and her his head stayed bowed to her. As his eyes fought between his hand and his mommy, he noticed a small trail straight down the side of the cliff that would take him right to her. Gripping a large rock, Temple dug into the side of the ledge. He lowered one leg over its side finding another rock to hold his weight.

      “I”m coming down, OK? OK, Mommy?”

      Silence.

      The sharp rocks dug into his blistered hand. Slimy mud squeezed from under the toes of his shoes. Every grasped the cliff's side, shards of shale cut into his skin or under his fingernails. His worn tread kept giving way. Eventually, he had determined he no choice but to kick them off and go the rest of the way barefoot. Tears mixed with rain clouded his fight for sight as he looked down at her.

      “Should I just jump?” he cried. The pain in hand worse than he could of ever unexpected.

      She lay silent. Temple went on, and his toes dug into the side of the rocky cliff. All of the muscles in his small body tensed, he tried to peer down at her once more, but no matter what he did the rain made her a blur.

Temple mustered all his remaining strength. Then he yelled down to her with a bit of force, he couldn't hold himself up, and he just wanted to let go.

      “Should I jump?”

      As his words rang through the air, the muddy foothold that had just barely been supporting his weight collapsed. Rocks and mud plummeted to the ground. He dangled by his hands.

Slipping down splintering shale, Temple screamed in agony and left go. As he fell, his mother's voice cut through the rain and thunder as if it was a beautiful clear day and he was sitting on her lap.

      “Temple, no!”

      His gaze fixed on her; her skin had yellowed; all her limbs angled in odd directions; a red blotch on her abdomen. He tumbled backward head over heal.

      Temple crashed hard; the cushion of his mother’s flesh enough to sustain his life once more. His head dropped at the nape of her neck. The small boy’s body forced the last hot breath from her lungs. Leaving her motionless, staring down at Temple with washed out eyes.

      Pulling his face next to hers, he looked at her lovingly and kissed her on her still-warm lips as if to put her to sleep. Then he laid his head down on her chest and smelled her familiar scent. Cupping his ear to block the downpour Temple's heartbeat echoed through his mother's body. Exhausted he willed himself asleep humming the song she always hummed to him. The rain beat them relentlessly. Thunder boomed ominously in the cold sky chilling overhead; her body warm below.