Sparked by Lily Cahill

had happened. Something strange.
    The more she thought about it, she came to realize the strange thing maybe wasn’t a “thing.” 
    Maybe it was her. 
    Maybe she could move things. Maybe she had always been able to but had never known it. She had read stories about people who could move things. Books about witches or comic books with superheroes. 
    God, what was she thinking? Could she really believe she was a witch? Or a superhero?
    Of course not.
    Still, the thing had happened.
    Cora saw someone’s leftover breakfast sitting on the counter: a dirty plate and fork and an unfinished glass of water. It wouldn’t hurt to try, would it? 
    She closed her eyes and concentrated on moving the fork. But what was she supposed to concentrate on? A feeling? An image? She decided the best thing to do was to simply want the fork to move. That’s what had happened last time, hadn’t it? She had wanted the water to hit Butch in the face, and it did.
    She stared at the fork until she had a clear image of it in her mind. Then she closed her eyes and concentrated. 
    She opened her eyes. Nothing had happened. 
    She closed them again and concentrated harder. 
    Still nothing.
    She took another look at the mess on the counter, at the plate, at the fork, at the glass. What had she done before? What was different? Why didn’t the whole mess just move?
    It was then she saw the vibration. But it wasn’t from the fork. It was from the glass. The more she concentrated, the more it vibrated on the counter.
    She looked at it, reached out her hand, and focused all her attention on just the glass.
    Move.
    Move.
    Move.
    She wanted that water to move.
    And it did.
    A tiny droplet rose out of the glass. An inch, then five. Just as quickly, it splashed back down, plopped into the glass.
    Cora gasped.
    She had done it. 
    She had moved something. 
    And it wasn’t just something. It was water.
    She could move water.
    She tried it again, just to be sure. Cora focused all her attention on the water inside the glass, instead of the glass itself.
    Immediately, the glass tipped to the floor and shattered. But the water inside it hovered above the counter, a floating globule of pure liquid. Clear and shining and perfect. Cora reached out to touch it, but it splashed back down on the countertop and cascaded to the floor, dotting her dress with wetness.
    She tried again. This time, she turned on the faucet and looked away. She willed the water to arc over her head and land on the floor. 
    Nothing happened.
    She looked back at it and tried it while she was looking. This time, the water shot up and splashed the ceiling, showering down over her in a wild rain. It didn’t arc over her head as she’d hoped, but at least it had done something. Perhaps she could only move it if she was looking at it.
    She turned her back again. Same thing. The water poured out of the faucet. She could hear it splashing into the sink just like normal. But the moment she caught sight of it, it went up like a geyser—missing the ceiling this time and arcing through space until it landed on the floor.
    Cora laughed. What else could she do? 
    This was bizarre. 
    This was crazy. 
    She was crazy. 
    Was she crazy?
    She tried it one more time, making the water shoot through the air. For perhaps the first time ever, Cora felt special. She could do something. She had a gift.
    Then she heard a noise on the steps out front and her little display came crashing down—all over her head.
    The door opened. Bethany stood there for a moment, staring at her. “Cora, what on earth are you doing?”
    At first, Cora feared she’d been caught. Had Bethany seen? Then she realized what a sight she must be. She was dripping wet. Everything around her was too, and the faucet was running out of control. She must look like an absolute mess.
    “I might have spilled a little water,” Cora said with a nervous giggle.
    “A little?” Bethany said. “You spilled more than a little.”
    Cora’s