Listener – the highest level of the Talent pertaining to the ability to hear other’s thoughts; one first can Hear, then Listen, before becoming a Listener. Regardless of level of ability, when this power is utilized it is expressed as the verb Hear or Listen. A Listener hears the words but is unable to ascertain emotion from the thoughts. The opposite power is the ability to use Voice.
Naturalist – the highest level of the Talent pertaining to the ability to bring one’s surroundings into balance; one first can Balance, then is a Natural, before becoming a Naturalist. Regardless of the level of ability, when this power is utilized it is expressed as the verb Balance. A Naturalist is involved in the making of an Object of Power. The opposite power is termed Unmade, or sometimes Unravel, and is a power of destruction and decay that is harmful to the user. It is rarely used.
Seer – the highest level of the Talent pertaining to the ability to derive meanings from visions; one first has Sight, then can See, before becoming a Seer. Regardless of level of ability, when this power is utilized it is expressed as the verb See. Visions come randomly to a Seer; the opposite power of a Seer is the ability to Look, or actively choose to see, a particular vision.
Speaker – the highest level of the Talent pertaining to the ability to use one’s voice to exert one’s will; one first has Voice, then can Speak, before becoming a Speaker. Regardless of level of ability, when this power is utilized it is expressed as using Voice. The opposite power is the ability to Listen to other’s thoughts.
About the Author
Brook T. Mays believes life is a journey and learning should be constant. That belief, and her background in the medical field, led her to her second career, writing! While in graduate school, working with her first young patient severely affected by a neurological condition, she fell in love with the escape of reading novels set in alternate worlds, especially those with a love story. Though she continued on to have a successful and fulfilling career working with the neurologically involved, she never lost the wonder of those alternate worlds and is so excited she gets to make up her own. Born and raised in Texas, she lives there with her husband, three children, and two dogs. All of them love to travel in and around Texas - and beyond! - as much as possible.
Brook T. Mays is a pen name, designed to honor loved ones she has lost, and to reconnect with the girl in high school who always loved writing, but decided to study science first.
Titles from Brook T. Mays
The Talent Within Series
Sing A Twist
Hear My Call
Balance Our Ballad*
*Coming Fall 2017
Sneak Peak at Hear My Call
The story continues in the next installment of The Talent Within Series, available now.
Lissette hunched down against the cold. She adjusted the ear pieces of her iphone letting the beat of the music pound through her. People often commented on how loud she played her music. Some offered concerns about damaging her hearing; some were just annoyed that they could hear her music from her ear buds. For her, the louder, the better. Especially the instruments. Drums were her best friends, at times. Thankfully, the bus was finally here. At least she would be out of this wind. It was wet, and bit right through her.
Yes! The bus was almost empty. This should be an easy ride home.
Need to pick up the dry cleaning
I’m bored wish this bus would go faster
She took a seat towards the back where there was no one else around. The bus bumped off down the road. Lissette passed the time listening to her iPod. First one, then another, person exited the bus. Only one other person got on.
Cold I’m hungry it’s cold
Finally, her stop came. She was up before the bus came to a complete stop and off as soon as the doors fully opened. Now, she only had a couple of blocks to walk before she was finally home. She shivered again and picked up her pace. She hated being out at night after dark. At least the streets were relatively empty. The cold had driven most people into their warm homes.
If this kid doesn’t stop crying I’m going to kill him
She had heard that often enough that she knew the mom didn’t mean it. It was sad and surprising how many moms thought that. Guess it was just a figure of speech, though. She wondered if her mom had ever thought it. Her grandmother, who had raised her since she was twelve, certainly never did. She was always too grateful that Lissette had survived the crash that had taken the rest of their family. And, too, she had needed Lissette almost as much as Lissette had needed her. She would not have been able to live on her own without help. It was actually a wonder, pure grit and determination, Lissette thought, that had allowed her grandmother to make it until she was eighteen.
not here I can’t be here this is the place I can’t be here
Lissette missed a step. Someone was screaming in their own head. No words just . . . screaming. That was different. The only other times something like that had happened was when she passed the occasional homeless person who likely suffered from some mental illness. She looked around, but no one was in sight. She was finally at her building, so she hurried inside. No one was waiting for the elevator, so she took a chance and pushed the button. It arrived quickly, and she rode up to her floor with no interruptions.
She was just thinking of the lucky break she had caught by catching a full, private ride up as she stepped up to her apartment door. She stood in front of it with her heart racing. It was ajar. Just barely, not completely closed. She hadn’t been able to tell until she was standing right in front of the door. Almost reluctantly, she pulled her ear plugs out.
Nothing. No help at all. Damn it, for once it could have been useful. Indecisively, she stood there.
Coming to a decision, she grabbed her pepper spray. She left her door open as she entered her home. It was small. She walked in and could see everything but her bedroom and bathroom. Her heart beat like thunder. And still, silence. She checked under and behind everything that could hide a small dog. Then she turned to her bedroom. Her door was open. She was fairly certain that she had left it that way. With great trepidation she stepped forward. She pushed the door all the way to the wall with a bang. There was no way anyone was standing behind it. Pepper spray in hand and held up ready to spray, she continued on.
Her bedroom was not large. The small curtains that covered the windows could not possibly hide anyone. She went to the far side of the bed and dropped down, all the while listening to the silence. She checked. No one was under the bed. Quickly she got up. Now she had a choice: the closet or the bathroom. The closet was closest, so she chose it. She was very aware that her back would be to the bathroom when she opened her closet door. She waited, her heart in her throat, her body turned sideways so she could see both the bathroom and the closet. And still, there was silence.
After a long, torturous moment, she opened the closet door and quickly scanned it. She swept the pepper spray side to side, barely keeping herself from spraying it. Empty. She turned and ran to the bathroom before her courage gave out. Also empty. She ran back to the front door to shut and lock it. Then she methodically checked every corner again. Finally, she admitted to herself that no one was in her home.
Standing in the middle of the room she was at a loss. Adrenaline pumped through her body, but she had no outlet for it. What should she do next? Several moments passed. Well, no one was here. So, she should check to see if anything was missing. She didn’t have much. Television, computer, DVD player were all present. She had very little jewelry. A gold necklace that had been her grandmother’s and her mother’s pearls. They were all there. Nothing seemed to be out of place. There was nothing to be done.
How could she possible relax? How could she just act as if nothing had happened? Should she call the police? And tell them what?
She stood in the middle of her small apartment. Small, but home to her. Her sanctuary. And it had been violated. Slowly she turned in a circle looking around. There, by her computer she saw somethi
ng catch the light. She walked over to get a closer look. It was a small bracelet. It was silver and was fashioned with a pattern of snowflakes. A small, jagged piece of paper was with it. It looked like it had been carelessly torn off of a larger sheet. She did a quick scan. One of her monthly bill statements was sitting there on her desk. The piece looked like a match.
So, someone had been in her apartment. They had taken nothing, so far as she could tell, but they had left behind a bracelet and an impromptu note, torn off a conveniently nearby piece of paper? She could just imagine the thoughts the police would have regarding her statement. None of them would be complementary to her, she was sure. Maybe the note would help.
Shaking, she leaned closer to read it.
‘You will need this’ was written.
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Sing A Twist Page 25