Chapter Two: The Awakening
Malik Carter leaned against the doorway of the guest room, watching his parents bustle around in a flurry of activity. His mother, Tanya, was on the phone with her sister, discussing baby names. His father, David, stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, staring at the half-disassembled bedframe. The guest room was being transformed into a nursery, and the once cluttered space was now an empty canvas for Malik's soon-to-be sibling.
"Malik," his father said, snapping out of his trance. "Do you feel well enough to help move some of this furniture? I know you just got back on your feet, and I hate to ask you, but I can't manage all this heavy stuff on my own."
Malik looked at his dad and felt it instantly--the hesitation, the regret for even asking him, but beneath it all, a twinge of desperation. David wasn't getting any younger, and he didn't want to admit that some things were getting harder. Malik smiled, sensing the emotional undercurrent without fully understanding how.
"I'm good, Dad. Better than ever, actually. Let me help."
David exhaled, a mix of relief and doubt crossing his face, but he nodded. "Alright then, but take it easy, okay?"
Malik followed his father into the guest room, where the bed had already been dismantled, the mattress leaning against the wall. David had also started on the dresser, drawers scattered around the floor. Together, they bent down to lift the bulky piece of furniture.
"Careful with this," David warned as they maneuvered the dresser towards the hallway. "It's heavy. Don't want you straining yourself."
As they moved it, Malik felt the weight of the dresser... but barely. His father struggled a bit, adjusting his grip and breathing heavily as they reached the stairs. Malik found himself holding most of the load without much effort.
Halfway down, David's foot slipped on the edge of a stair. He lurched forward, his hand catching the railing just in time to keep him from tumbling down.
"You okay?" Malik asked, his voice calm.
David straightened himself, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine--" He froze, suddenly aware that Malik was standing on the stairs, holding the full weight of the dresser. Alone.
"Malik! Why didn't you say something? You shouldn't be doing that!" David scrambled back into position, his voice tinged with worry.
But Malik shrugged, steady and unfazed. "It's fine, Dad. It doesn't feel that heavy."
David stared at him, bewildered. "That dresser's gotta be 200 pounds."
Malik didn't have a response. He could feel his father's concern, his confusion, but none of it reflected how Malik actually felt. He wasn't straining at all. They carried the rest of the furniture without incident, and Malik's mind buzzed with the ease of it all.
Later that morning, the family sat down for breakfast. David, still a bit shaken, recounted the dresser incident to Tanya.
"He was holding it by himself, Tanya. Just standing there on the stairs like it was nothing," David said, glancing at Malik across the table. "I've heard of people doing crazy things when they've got an adrenaline rush, but this..."
Tanya raised an eyebrow but smiled softly, patting Malik on the hand. "Maybe you're tougher than you think, baby. Just don't overdo it. Your body's still healing."
"Yeah," David agreed, though he still looked skeptical. "Still, that dresser... Malik, you sure you're alright?"
Malik met his dad's gaze and nodded. "I'm fine. Actually, I feel better than fine. Stronger."
David looked like he wanted to say more, but let it go. Instead, he pushed his plate aside and offered his son a ride to school. "You're going back today, right? I can drop you off if you want."
"Nah," Malik said, standing up and stretching. "I think I'll jog. I need to get back in shape for football."
His mother frowned, immediately protesting. "Jogging five miles? You'll smell like a gym by the time you get to class."
"I'll shower at school before class, promise," Malik said, grabbing his bag.
David sighed, checking his watch. "Five miles is a lot, son. Don't push yourself too hard after the accident."
Malik smiled to himself as he headed out the door. He could feel his parents' concern swirling around him, but he didn't share it. He felt... invincible. As he stepped outside and started his jog, he silently asked God for forgiveness as he disregarded his father's advice.
Once on the road, Malik's pace quickened. His legs moved easily, his breathing steady. The wind whipped past his face as he broke into a run, faster than he had since before the accident. The rhythm of his feet on the pavement felt natural, powerful, and he couldn't help but test his limits. He pushed harder, keeping up what was once his top speed without so much as breaking a sweat. It didn't feel like a workout; it felt like flying.
Twenty minutes later, Malik arrived at school, barely winded. He made his way to the gym for a quick shower before class, though his body hadn't really needed it. As he entered the locker room, the cross-country team was getting ready for their morning run.
"Malik! You're back?" one of the runners called out. "Good to see you, man!"
The team crowded around him, offering congratulations on his recovery. Malik smiled and tried to blend in, but he couldn't ignore the fact that they were all in peak shape, shirtless and dripping with pre-run energy. He made a conscious effort to avoid staring too long at any one of them, especially the captain, who was stretching nearby.
Trying to divert his thoughts, Malik spoke up. "Hey, mind if I join you guys for your run?"
The group exchanged hesitant glances, their collective uncertainty palpable. Malik felt it, like a current running through them. Without thinking, he focused on that tension and, almost as naturally as breathing, he smoothed it out, easing their doubts. The captain, a tall, lean guy named Matthew, grinned suddenly.
"Sure, man. But don't expect us to go easy on you," Matt teased. The rest of the team relaxed, laughing and joking as they headed out.
The morning air was crisp as they set off. Malik ran in line with Matt at first, the two of them keeping pace with the rest of the team. They covered about three and a half miles in just under 17 minutes, but Malik noticed Matt pushing himself harder, trying to create distance between them.
Malik kept up effortlessly, his muscles burning with energy but never fatiguing. He could feel Matt's frustration growing as Malik stayed on his heels, the tension building with every stride. The rest of the team had fallen behind, leaving just Malik and Matt in a quiet competition.
When they finished, Matt bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for air. Sweat poured off him, soaking his shirt. Malik, still barely winded, faked a few heavy breaths to avoid drawing attention.
Matt looked up, panting but smiling. "Damn, Carter. You're one tough son of a bitch. You should join us full-time--we'd be unstoppable."
He slung an arm around Malik's shoulders, and Malik tensed, trying not to enjoy the contact too much. Matt's skin smelled like sweat and the outdoors, but it wasn't unpleasant. Malik felt a surge of something he didn't want to admit to and quickly disentangled himself.
"How about this," Malik said, grinning as he shifted the mood. "Race you to the showers. If you win, I'll think about joining the team."
Matt laughed, but before he could respond, Malik took off, leaving him in the dust. Matt gave chase, but there was no contest. Malik won easily.
In the locker room, Malik tried not to look at Matt as they undressed, but it was hard not to sneak glances. As Matt peeled off his sweat-drenched shirt, Malik couldn't help but glance in his direction. Matt stood about 6 feet tall, his lean, athletic frame reflecting the hard work and endurance of a dedicated cross-country runner. His pale skin flushed a light pink from the exertion, glistening with a sheen of sweat from the intense run. His torso was defined but not bulky--more sinewy than muscular--his abs rippling as he stretched his arms over his head.
He dropped his shorts. His legs were long and toned, showing the kind of strength only a runner could develop. A faint dusting of light brown hair trailed from his navel down past the waistband of his boxers, a small but noticeable feature that Malik's eyes lingered on longer than he intended. Then he dropped the boxer. Matt's flaccid cock was about 5 inches, but thick. Malik wondered if he was a grower, he couldn't imagine that meat getting thicker. It was like a coke can.
Matt's short, sandy blond hair clung damply to his forehead in messy, sweat-soaked strands. As he toweled off, his face still wore the easy, competitive smile from their run, completely oblivious to the thoughts swirling in Malik's mind. Matt, exhausted from the run, didn't seem to notice. But Malik was becoming increasingly aware of something new. His ability to mask his emotions was more powerful than he realized. He was hiding his intentions from Matt--his attraction, his thoughts--and no one seemed to notice.
As they finished up, Malik realized that his abilities went deeper than just physical strength. Something had changed inside him, something that could influence not only how he felt, but how others felt too. He would have to test it, but now wasn't the time. He was discovering new parts of himself, powers he hadn't even begun to understand.
For now, he'd just have to take it one step at a time.
On Tue, Oct 29, 2024 at 9:16 PM JUSTIN WATSON jlphoenixwrites@gmail.com wrote:
This is a work of fantasy fiction intended solely for the
entertainment of our readers; any resemblance to any real
people or places is purely coincidental. Readers who would
like to chat are encouraged to contact either of us at
jlphoenixwrites@gmail.com
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Chapter One: The Storm
Malik Carter stood on the edge of the field, drenched in sweat and adrenaline, his broad shoulders heaving as he pulled off his helmet. At 6'1", with a lean, muscular build, he looked every bit the star athlete that North Atlanta had come to rely on. His dark brown skin gleamed under the stadium lights, his sharp jawline set with the determination that had carried him through the game. Tight curls of black hair clung to his forehead, and his deep-set eyes, a warm hazel, scanned the field as if still replaying the final moments of the game in his mind. Malik's lips pressed into a thin line, masking the mix of relief and conflict that always seemed to simmer beneath his surface. To most, he was the image of confidence--handsome, athletic, and seemingly invincible. But beneath the exterior, Malik carried secrets even his closest teammates couldn't see, hidden just as carefully as the exhaustion in his muscles.
The North Atlanta Titans had done the impossible. After a grueling battle on the field, they'd managed to clinch a win against the Stonebridge Bulldogs, whose home crowd now stared in stunned disbelief. Malik Carter, cornerback for the Titans, was still riding the high of the victory as he lined up with his teammates to shake hands with the Bulldogs.
"Good game," Malik muttered to the opposing cornerback, who barely looked him in the eye. Malik couldn't blame him--the Bulldogs had been favorites to win, and losing on their own turf stung more than usual.
After the obligatory sportsmanship, the Titans, giddy with adrenaline, piled onto their bus. Malik settled into his seat near the front, flanked by his usual crew. To his left, Dre Lawson was still buzzing with energy, as if he hadn't just spent the last three hours sprinting up and down the field. Jada Moore, the team manager, sat across the aisle, organizing her thoughts and quietly observing. Just behind Malik was the mountain of muscle that was Ty Richardson, uncharacteristically quiet but listening in.
The bus was filled with laughter and banter as the team rehashed the final moments of the game.
"Man, Dre almost blew it!" Malik said, giving Dre a playful punch to the shoulder.
"That wasn't my fault!" Dre shot back, grinning. "If that ball hadn't slipped--"
"Slipped? You tripped over your own feet!" Jada interrupted, smirking. "I've never seen someone fumble a sure touchdown like that."
The bus erupted in laughter, and even Ty, who rarely engaged, let out a low chuckle. Coach Harris, seated up front, shook his head but didn't turn around. He had heard it all before and let his team enjoy the victory. The Titans were headed home triumphant, but Mother Nature had other plans.
As they began the long ride back to Atlanta, the sky outside darkened. The rain, at first a light drizzle, quickly turned into a torrential downpour. The sound of water slapping against the windows was nearly deafening. Malik glanced out the window, watching lightning flicker in the distance.
"Man, I hate riding in storms like this," Dre muttered, leaning back into his seat.
"You scared of a little rain?" Ty rumbled from behind, his voice deep and gruff.
"Nah, just cautious," Dre shot back, eyes fixed on the flashes of light streaking across the sky. "This weather's no joke."
The tension in the bus grew as the rain intensified, and the wind howled like it wanted to tear the bus off the road. Malik felt a strange weight in his chest, an unease that settled deep in his gut. He chalked it up to the storm and tried to ignore it.
But as the bus rounded a curve, the storm reached its peak. Lightning crackled violently across the sky, closer now, illuminating the road ahead. Then, without warning, a bolt struck the bus. A deafening boom shook the entire vehicle. Malik's vision blurred as the bus swerved uncontrollably, the driver losing all control.
Time slowed. Malik could hear the shouts of his teammates, feel the panic rippling through the air, and then--darkness.
Malik's eyes fluttered open, but the bright lights above him made his head swim. His whole body ached, but something else gnawed at him, deeper than just physical pain. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision, and realized he was in a hospital bed. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled his nostrils, and the beeping of machines echoed softly in the background.
His mother, Tanya Carter, was asleep in the chair beside his bed, her hand clutching his as though she hadn't let go for days. His father, David Carter, sat at the foot of the bed, head bowed, clutching his Bible tightly. Malik could see the tension in his father's face, the furrow of his brow, and the way his lips moved silently in prayer.
The weight in Malik's chest returned, but this time, it felt... different. He could feel his father's anxiety, the knot of fear twisted up inside him. But it didn't feel like his own fear. It was his father's. Malik's heart raced, but instinctively, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. As he did, the tension in the room seemed to ease. His father's face relaxed, his knuckles loosening their grip on the Bible.
David's eyes opened slowly, and when he saw Malik staring back at him, they widened in surprise. "Malik! Praise God!" David exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "I knew it... I knew it! God took away my anxiety, and I just knew you'd be okay!"
Malik blinked, still trying to make sense of his surroundings. His dad's outburst startled Tanya awake. She jolted upright, her eyes red and puffy, but the moment she saw Malik, fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Baby!" she cried, rushing to his bedside. "You're awake. Oh, thank God, you're awake!"
Malik's throat felt dry, and his mind swam with confusion. "What... what happened?"
Before his mother could answer, his father was already halfway out the door. "Nurse! Nurse! He's awake!" David called, his voice booming through the hallway.
Tanya tried to speak, but her emotions overwhelmed her. She sobbed, clutching Malik's hand to her face, muttering prayers of gratitude under her breath. Malik's head pounded. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his body kept him grounded.
"You were in an accident," Tanya finally managed to say between sobs. "The bus... the storm... it was bad."
Just then, the nurse entered, followed closely by a doctor who quickly began examining Malik.
"Mr. Carter, you've been in a coma for two days," the doctor explained gently. "You sustained serious injuries in the bus crash, but now that you're awake, we need to run some tests to check for any permanent damage. Just relax, we'll take care of everything."
The exam was thorough, but Malik's mind was elsewhere, piecing together fragments of memory from the crash. The doctor's voice was calm but clinical, explaining Malik's physical condition: no major spinal damage, no permanent brain trauma, though he would be sore and slow to recover for a while. Still, given the severity of the accident, his prognosis was remarkably positive.
Malik could barely focus on the doctor's words. He caught glimpses of his reflection in the nearby window, faint burn scars trailing along his arms from where the lightning had struck the bus. "How did I survive that?" he wondered.
Days passed as Malik recovered in the hospital. The doctors were stunned by how fast his body was healing, but they chalked it up to luck and youth. Others weren't so fortunate. The bus driver had died on impact, and several students were still in recovery. But Malik's closest friends--Dre, Jada, Coach Harris, and Ty--were all at the same hospital, recovering at an equally unnatural pace. Each bore scars from the lightning, faint but unmistakable.
Malik could feel it, deep down: something had changed. He felt stronger every day, like his body had been... supercharged. But there was something else too, something stranger. He had always been good at reading people, but now it was like he could sense emotions with pinpoint clarity. When his father came into the room, Malik could feel his tension before his face even showed it. When his mom tried to reassure him with a smile, he could sense the worry she tried to bury beneath the surface.
The more time passed, the more certain Malik became. He could feel what people were feeling, even when they tried to hide it.
On the morning of his release, Malik noticed his mother acting differently. Her eyes were tired, and she kept excusing herself to the bathroom. Every time she returned, she flashed a tight smile, but Malik could sense her discomfort. It emanated from her.
"Mom, are you okay?" he asked, watching her closely. "You don't look too good."
Tanya tried to wave him off. "Oh, it's nothing, baby. I've just been under a lot of stress, that's all."
"No," Malik pressed, his voice firmer. "It's more than that. I can tell. You should get checked out."
Tanya hesitated, but seeing the concern in her son's eyes, she nodded. "Alright, I'll ask the doctor. Just to ease your mind."
Later that day, just as Malik was preparing to be discharged, the doctor came into the room, a smile on his face.
"Well, it looks like we've got two pieces of good news," the doctor said. "Not only is Malik being released, but we've also found out that Tanya here is pregnant."
Malik's eyes widened in shock as his mom covered her mouth, tears welling in her eyes again.
"A baby?" she whispered, laughing through her tears. "We're having a baby?"
Malik smiled, overwhelmed by the news. But deep down, something stirred within him. This wasn't just a freak accident. Something else was happening, and he was just beginning to understand it.
As Malik absorbed the news about the baby, he felt a swirl of emotions that he couldn't quite name. Happiness for his family, relief that his mom was okay, but underneath it all, a deep sense of unease that had nothing to do with the accident or his recovery. It was a feeling he had buried for so long, a secret that he kept locked away even from himself. The idea of his parents bringing another life into the world, building the kind of family they wanted, filled him with a quiet ache--a reminder of the life he could never fully share with them. As much as his parents loved him, Malik had spent his whole life hiding a part of himself, afraid of what they'd think if they ever found out. He'd always been the perfect son, the star athlete, the one who never gave them trouble. But that wasn't the whole truth.
He glanced over at his mom and dad, watching them celebrate the news of the pregnancy, and felt a pang of guilt. How could he tell them--his father, especially--that the son they thought they knew was someone else entirely? That beneath the surface, he was more than just the football star they were so proud of, but a young man who was hiding a part of his identity, struggling with who he really was. Malik pushed those thoughts down again, like he always did, reminding himself that there was no room for that now. Not with everything else going on. He had a family to protect, a team to lead, and secrets that he wasn't ready to face. Not yet.