Ellen sat on her bed, her back and head propped up on the black wooden backboard. She clenched her fist into a tight ball before relaxing and letting it open. It reminded her of a flower coming into bloom. Although other's may find it laughable, it made her feel calm and at peace with the world.

Her room was dimly lit by a desk lamp angled towards the wall, and the cream walls had become more like a shade of grey from the storm clouds outside. Textbooks were piled precariously on a corner of her desk, and her wet clothes which she wore that day were now placed in a wicker basket by the door. This was her bedroom for as long as she could remember; the only difference throughout the years being that the solid, wooden cot was replaced with an equally solid double bed and a study desk had been added at the start of her schooling journey.

The police officer had left a short time earlier but not before he took the opportunity to gaze up at Ellen from behind his cruiser. There was the look of pity in his eyes; his eyes that softened to be almost doe-like when he saw her.

It was as if they tried to tell her that everything would be okay.

But this was ridiculous.

He didn't know about anything that was going on in her life and it really was none of his business to intrude on uninvited. He wouldn't understand anyway so what was it to him?

The officer then waved at her, dropped himself behind the wheel and drove back down the driveway. He turned the corner, kicking up loose gravel that got caught in the treads of the tyres as he went. As he disappeared, Ellen felt herself relax on the bed. Her body became light and her head slid down the headboard onto the soft, white pillow. A deep state of thoughtfulness threatened to take her mind hostage and it took mere seconds for it to be successful in that battle. Her brain kicked into overdrive and started shifting through her thoughts. No matter how hard she was pushing her mind - no matter how hard she was pushing herself to the edges of rationality - there were no realistic explanations available to account for what she had experienced and seen firsthand ever since she turned sixteen.

The first of these incidents happened on none other than the day after her sixteenth birthday. Her head was buried deep within biology books that were piled around her on a desk at the back of the library. Studiously, she jotted helpful notes which would prove to be useful in an upcoming exam for bonus credits later that week. The library was normally a peaceful place except for that day. Someone whom she recognised as being in the grade above her sat at a neighbouring table, and ripped his headphones out of the jack on his phone. Instantly, the music he listened to blared for everyone else to hear and it most certainly wasn't tasteful.

Ellen muttered to herself, and hoped that the librarian would throw him out. Ironically, the elderly woman was nowhere in sight and neither was her assistant.

"Excuse me, do you mind?" she called out to him with an air of irritation. He rocked back on his chair and flipped the bird before making the music, if you could call it that, louder.

Irritated, she slammed the heavy book shut with a loud thud! and cursed him in her sigh. Almost instantly, she heard a thunderous crash and looked back up.

One of the legs of the chair had snapped in half and splinters had flown all over the charcoal carpet. The ignorant boy was now on his side, red faced and with blood pouring from his crooked nose. His hands flew to his face and he began to wail like the little brat that he was. Ellen heard scuffling and the librarian had appeared with a handful of books. Her assistant – a fresh graduate from university – was hot on her heels and tried to stifle a giggle at the sight albeit, with great difficulty.

"What happened?" asked the librarian, pushing the stack of books onto the table. She had grey, flyaway hair and always wore a brown apron over subdued clothes. She had been with the library for decades and was constantly badgering people to be respectful of their surroundings and to use furniture as intended. She had become a staple to the place and it was suspected that she would stay here for the rest of her days.

"I honestly don't know. I asked him to be quiet, closed my book and he just... fell. The leg must have broken when he swung on it," Ellen replied. She was lost for words.

"Teenagers," muttered the elderly woman. Ellen assisted in putting everything away and left the library in a great hurry, the scene replaying in her mind as she went.

The second incident happened two weeks after the library accident. Ellen walked through the gates of the high school, making her way to the furthest block for math hour when she caught the sound of someone threatening another person. Looking around, she noticed Tom – a senior who happened to be a serial offender of school suspensions – towering over a weaker boy who was cowering away from him. Tom had a textbook in his hands and slammed it into the boy's chest upon seeing Ellen.

"Mark my words, git," he snarled into his ear. in the assertion of dominance, he pushed his shoulder into Ellen as he ambled past. "Move, you freak."

She ran up to the tormented teenager and convinced him to file a report with the principal. Nodding his head, he hitched his backpack onto his shoulders, whispered an appreciative thanks and scurried away. Ellen sincerely hoped that karma saw what had happened. To her surprise, this was answered by the end of the day.

In his aggression from being suspended, yet again, Tom had reversed a bit too quickly and crashed his roadster into the car behind him. An ambulance was called to treat a concussion he had received from hitting his forehead into the steering wheel, a result from his airbags failing to deploy. He was both the talk and butt of jokes for over a month, only ending when he decided to leave school and pursue vocational training instead.

He was his bosses problem now, no longer the care of the educational board.

Ellen continued mulling these thoughts but they became thinner and less comprehensive as her eyelids began to droop. She lost sense of time; time had let her go from its grasp. She succumbed to a deep slumber that welcomed her with open arms. Somewhere in the distance, she heard a musical voice call out to her. Hands wrapped themselves around her shoulder and guided her into an unknown abyss.

She now found herself in a handsome, wooden-paneled living room. There were two large, comfortable looking high-backed armchairs complimented by an antique wooden coffee table. The room was dimly lit by a roaring and delightful crackling fire in the fireplace which cast a warm hue across the room. The light twinkled off many crystals, glasses, and forged metal trinkets that lined the mantle and adjoining display cabinet. She walked forward cautiously, the rug beneath her feet feeling plush, and examined the intricately carved details of a trinket that was closest to her. It appeared to be a small figure of a man crouching in front of a rearing horse.

It was so quiet that she could hear herself breathing.

She moved to the next one; this one a forged goblet covered in odd symbols that were unfamiliar. It piqued her interest. Lifting a finger to get a better loo -

"I would not touch that if I was you. It doesn't belong to you."

The same, musical voice that called her name.

Ellen spun on her heel, lost balance and grabbed the edge of the mantle to steady herself. Her heart was racing in fright. She was so immersed at looking and admiring these figures that she forgot about her surroundings and had let herself be caught off-guard. It took her just over a minute for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and realise where the voice originated from.

In the doorway of the room, she was able to just make out two pinpricks – eyes – that reflected the dancing flames. They disappeared and reappeared in an instant.

The figure had blinked.

Frightened, Ellen stood rigidly still. This was like a scene from a horror movie. Unfortunately for her, she was no part of it.

The figure presumably took a step towards her because more of it – him – became visible. Long, metallic-silver hair grew from his scalp and fell mid-way down his back. His eyes, although difficult to make out, appeared to be a cold, steel-blue almost grey. His face was long and pointed; his cheeks angled, and nose chiseled and pointed. He had a pale complexion, almost translucent.

The stranger held a glass in his hand which looked to be filled with bronze spirits. Whiskey? She didn't know. The glass looked haunting though as it glinted from the fire. A black, shimmering robe hung from his slender, tall frame and pooled around him on the floor.

"A drink?" he offered, extending his hand towards the table between the armchairs. Ellen stared at disbelief. A silver tray had appeared, complete with a tumbler and several decanters containing liquids of different colours. She stared at disbelief – had this been here earlier or was she oblivious to it being there all along?

"No thank-you," she declined. "I'm not even of age to be drinking." Her voice was but a stammer from the fear that struck her heart.

What appeared to be laughter lines formed at the man's eyes and he let out a chuckle. But as quickly as it happened, he regained his mysterious composure.

"Well, at least sit down then."

Ellen did as she was instructed and took the armchair closest to the fire. It was more comfortable than she had expected. He sat on the arm of the other chair and gazed down his pointed nose at her. His voice returned to its musical and gentle state. "You are of age, Ellen."

"I'm sixteen," she argued. "That's not –."

He held a finger up to stop her, amusement dancing across his eyes.

"Tell me," he paused. One of his eyebrows shifted upwards. "Have things been happening that you can't explain? You wish for something to happen, and it does? Almost like magic?"

"There is no such thing as magic."

"Correct. We don't do magic. That's child's play but it's a stretch to say that it doesn't exist."

He clasped his hands together. Ellen had the faint impression that he was waiting for her to say something.

The man lamented on the fact that she seemed too stunned to say anything. By this stage, other gifted teenagers would have laughed and thought this was a joke; an entire figment of their dreams. They had a bit of a rebellious irk to them. Made it more entertaining but difficult to handle in the long run. Those that were frightened beyond their wits were returned back into a submissive dream-like state and then woken as if remembering an unrelated nightmare.

Only.

Ellen was taking it quite well. She was self-controlled and cautious. He knew those types too. She would listen and decide if this was real or just a dream later on. When he was certain she wasn't going to say anything, he progressed onwards. Now for the real test, the part that most found hardest to handle. He watched as her face remained composed and waiting.

"When you turn ten years old, you undergo monitoring by one of our kind." He elaborated on the our. It was important to distinguish the difference.

"If you portray desirable characteristics such as logic and wisdom, strength and loyalty, you get marked and acquire – get bestowed upon, for the want of a better term - a certain set of skills on your sixteenth birthday. It's much like coming of age. Generally people can't draw the linkages together between what happens on the ground and physical possibility of it happening but you were quick to put the pieces together. I commend you for that."

Ellen had a look of confusion on her face. She was still trying to put these pieces together however, it was difficult because it didn't make much sense. She rubbed her temples, trying to let everything sink in.

"I thought these sorts of things were handed down through families? You know, like bloodlines? At least, that's what books I've read were like..." she began.

"But this isn't a fiction book." His answer was so simple, so blunt and unsatisfying that disappointment welled inside her. Ellen slouched into the back of the chair.

"Those abilities that we give you are very real. With the proper training and education, they can affect everything and everyone around you and change their life paths." He spoke the last sentence as if it was a warning not to be taken lightly. "You can influence and alter the near future but it does come with a burden – you can't change the past."

He stood up on his feet and put his glass on the table.

"It's getting late. I trust we will be seeing each other again in the near future." He made his way to the doorway and looked back at Ellen, his robe trailing behind him. "For the time being, please be careful with what you wish for until you learn to control yourself. Good night."

She blinked once but he had already disappeared into the darkness.

Ellen stirred in her bed, opening her eyes. She let them adjust to the bright morning light that was filtering through her window and came to realise that she had fallen asleep in the clothes that she wore the previous afternoon. There was a faint buzzing coming from outside. Someone was mowing their lawn on this fresh Sunday morning.

She lingered in her bed for a while longer, staring at the blank ceiling and struggled to remember the details of the dream that she had the previous evening. It was an interesting one; a man had told her that she had been given powers that could let her control the world around her. She mused about this for a while longer before pulling herself out from beneath the blankets and planting her feet firmly on the carpet.

"My name is Ellen," she told herself. "And I am an ordinary sixteen year old girl."

Making her way to her dresser, she pulled out a casual t-shirt and shorts that she only ever wore around the house. They weren't the dressy, well-maintained type that she wore in public and she wasn't planning on doing anything outside of the four walls.

With these in hand, she started for the door but stepped on something small and sharp. Tears welled in her eyes, and she dropped the clothes onto her desk to free her hands so she could massage her foot. Her left hand clumsily brushed against the stack of books and they scattered all over the floor around her. There was a small, grey metal object laying there which was the perpetrator of the throbbing foot.

Cursing, she bent down and picked it up. The metal cold was cold against her fingertips.

It was a trinket; a man crouching under a rearing horse.

Last night's dream instantly rushed back to her. It really did happen. Ellen let out a deep sigh as all the questions and feeling of puzzlement reawakened within her like wildfire. It plunged her back into a feeling of limbo and despair.

"Maybe I'm not so ordinary after all."