Sparks


Sparks arced from her fingers to the light switch plate.  The static was enough that it hurt.  It made her fingers tingle.  She had gotten used to it over the years.  If she had a superpower, she’d be Static Girl.  Even during the summer could kill a cell phone with a single touch.  She had to keep a piece of iron in her pocket that she touched before touching anything digital.

Appliances weren’t her friends either.  The microwave was on its fourth replacement this year alone and it was only October.  She’d end up needing a new one by Christmas.  She put it on her very short Christmas list.

After turning on the light, she sat down on the hard wooden chair that she had learned to sit in over the years and waited.  Couches and anything with material produced more static that she just didn’t need.  Going to bed created a spectacular light show, especially in the winter.  She would just move her feet and could watch the flashes as the static danced across the sheets and blanket.  A few years earlier, someone had bought her a fire resistant bedspread.

The electrician was on the way, in theory, to check on a few outlets.  One had begun to smolder the yesterday when she plugged in a toaster.  The toaster had died.  The outlet had blackened.  She was sure it was her fault, but she needed to make sure the wiring wasn’t damaged and get the outlet replaced.

After her second call to the electrician’s office, he finally showed up.  He was three hours late.  She had things to do, people to see, places to go and he had kept her waiting all morning.  Unhappily, she let him in and showed him the outlet.  He removed the cover and tested the wires, proclaimed them damaged and turned off the power to her kitchen until he could get to it in a “few days.”  She grumbled as she wrote him a check for his visit and a down payment on the wiring repairs that would have to take place.

Work was busy.  People seemed to hang out in the library more when it was cold out.  October had set in with a chill and it was already starting to snow this year.  It was going to be a long winter.  She touched the handle of the cart.  The sparks danced up her arm, making her hair stand up.  She sighed.

“Excuse me, miss,” someone behind her touched her.  The electricity raced through her shoulder.  It felt hot, not common with static discharges.  Flames burst from her shoulder.  Within minutes, she was just ashes.  People stood in horror and awe at the spectacle.  They’d never seen anyone burn so fast.

The old man that had touched her, touched the cart.  Static flew from his fingers and created a dizzying arc of sparks.  He hated winter and all the dry air.

©Hadena James 2014

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living or dead or actual situations is completely coincidental.

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1 Comment

  1. Maria D.

     /  March 1, 2014

    This is good!

    Like

    Reply

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