The Gift Of Gab

“When you open a window, the air that comes through may be cold. Maybe even uninviting, but now it's there, and you can see into the unknown horizons that await you.”

The campfire roared in front of me as the strange man spoke in a way I've never had the pleasure of hearing. Where I come from the more words you speak, the more naive you seem to those around you. This man intrigued me, he was dressed in a long trenchcoat with a plaid button up underneath that clung to his beer belly as if it were afraid to let go. His words were like seeing a spider make its web, beautiful and inviting. Until you're entranced enough to walk right into his trap.

The sounds from the inside of the bar travelled to my ears, people laughing and singing old songs I had once known myself.

They were not like us

The strange man and I had eyed each other the second I had set foot into the bar that night, we both had felt the magnetism in our words from feet away. The common people call us speakers. We had the gift to talk you into doing anything, saying things you would never say, even convincing one to see things that are not there. The gift of gab so to speak.

This is why I had fled from my fathers house the night before, why I had packed my most important belongings into a bag and set off on foot into the night. The townspeople were starting to catch on and I did not want to reach the same fate as my mother. She had the gift, and foolishly fell in love with my father. My mother was his muse, as he was an English professor at an established college in the area. He found her gift to be almost as beautiful as her, instead of as the weapon most deem it to be.

The day she was taken from us danced in my head as it had for the last ten years. At the time I was eight years of age, my mother and I were at a clothing store and she was speaking to an employee. Even from a young age I could tell when she activated her gift, flooding images of grandeur into commoners' subconscious to get what she wants. This day was no different, my mother used her words to get our clothing for free by exploring the employee’s ambitions and “inspiring” him to pay for our purchase. We would have made it if it wasn't for his boss, the witch of a woman snapped him out of it by yelling his name from across the store to say he was permitted to go on break. He leaped out of the daydream my mother had put him in and quickly realized what she was. The look on his face was one of pure terror as he slowly backed away from us. My mother quickly took my hands in hers as she bent down so that she was level with me. Then she spoke the words I still remember from all those years ago.

“Sweetie, I need you to listen to me. Ok? I don't have much time. You will reach an age where you know what you are and how to use it, and when that time comes I need you to run. Run as far away from here as you can. I cannot teach you the things I hoped, and I cannot tell you the things you need to hear. Trust in yourself, for me. Don't let anyone get the best of you Jack. Don't tell anyone what you are.”

In the distance I could hear men shouting

“There she is! I told you!”

Men in dark uniforms with guns on their hips had their sights set on us and were coming our way.

With that, my mother said one last thing.

“I love you my moon, I will always love you.”

The men grabbed her, I felt her hands slip from my grasp. She did not fight them, she knew she had done what she could. Fresh tears streamed down my face as they dragged her away, I felt my feet begin to move. I felt myself running faster than I had ever before, I had even convinced myself I was flying.

“Fear never leaves, it just shapes itself into a new monster.”

The fire in front of me came back into view, my head jerked up and the strange man was still sitting in front of me, a concentrated look adorned his face.

“Get out of my head” I demanded as I felt his grip slipping away.

“You can't outrun every problem that arises”

He was right

My gaze fell to my feet

What am I doing?

I looked up once more and met the strange man's gaze, his white hair was poking out from his baseball cap and his eyes were pouring into mine. After a long while of staring into his hypnotizing glare I found myself demanding one simple request that rang out into the night with the intensity of a sword hitting its opponent.

“Become my mentor.”

He sighed, his warm breath floating into the cold air between us. Just like that, he brought me back to the scene where I was before, only this time it was me as the messenger. At the mighty age of eight returning home to tell my father that the bad men had taken my mother and we would never see her again. The man's voice narrated over the scene in a mocking tone.

“Is this who is asking?”

I pushed the memory away and stared straight at him, forming words like daggers on my tongue.

“Im asking”

I pushed deeper until I felt his thoughts echoing throughout my brain, bouncing off the walls of my skull until they became clear.

“Is this boy the one?”

Suddenly I felt rushed back into my body as if I had just been slammed with a wall of concrete. Both of our gazes still locked on each other until he bent down to pick up his flask from near his feet. The man then took a swig and capped it shut, paused and returned to my stare.

“I will become your mentor, but only if you accept what's been lying dormant inside you.”

I stared back, mesmerized by his words and nodded in agreement. He nodded back, and a grin spread across his face.

“Like I said before, When you open a window, the air that comes through may be cold. Maybe even uninviting, but now it's there, and you can see into the unknown horizons that await you.”