Brainsparker One--Dean.

Thanks to a wonderful app called Brainsparker, I can try this exercise. Once in a while, when writer's block strikes, I will use a random prompt from the Writer's Pack on Brainsparker. Today's prompt is:


He felt the surge of energy enter his body. It was cold and powerful and took control of his mind.



Dean wandered the empty museum, his footsteps echoing on the tile. He had a full hour before Barry came to take the morning shift, just in time for the customers.


Dean's job was easy. The museum was small, and held very few things of any value. No one ever bothered to try and steal unless they were stupid teenagers who had nothing better to do. Easy to apprehend.


Most days, Dean simply wandered dark hallways and exhibits, his only company inside his own head. Dean didn't mind this much. He liked his own mind.


As he walked along, wondering vaguely if he had time to make himself a cup of coffee (He still had fifty-five minuets left in his shift but the coffee machine only worked half the time) when he heard a second pair of echoing footsteps. He stopped walking immediately, listening to their direction. Dean may have had an easy job, but after fifteen years of working it he had picked up a thing or to.


The casual walking of the mystery feet quickened, soon at a running pace. Dean started running too, trying to catch the culprit without having to go outside. It's cold in January!


Dean skidded around the corner, expecting a cheeky teen to be clutching a plastic dinosaur bone or some such nonsense. But instead there was nothing.


Dean searched the entire museum, but no one was there. And nothing was missing.


Dean returned to where he had heard the footsteps in the first place, only this time, there was something.


The box was smooth and silver, and a blue-colored diamond was engraved in the center. Dean cautiously crept forward, confused by where it came from.


A crystal latch was tightly locked at the front, though it only took a moment for Dean to pry it open. A flash of light exploded from inside the box, blinding him. He stumbled back, shielding his eyes, but as quick as the light started it was over, and all that was left in the box was a golden, tightly sealed, envelope, and a golden locket with a smaller blue-colored diamond set tightly in the front. Dean carefully opened the envelope, his hands shaking with fear.


Hello, my dear reader. This box comes with a gift, and a warning. The gift is the locket you see in the box. When worn, it will give you an incredible power, a power like you have never felt before. However, in exchange for my gift, I will want something in return. Before you receive your power, you must open the locket. When you close it, you will have that power forever. Just remember, this gift comes with a price.


Dean looked at the locket wearily. Sun was creeping up from below the ground; natural light was starting to fill the museum's dark walls. He had only a short time before Barry found him.


His heart pounding, he grabbed the locket, putting it around his neck. It opened easily, and he gasped with shock as He felt the surge of energy enter his body. It was cold and powerful and took control of his mind.


He closed the locket quickly, and the energy sank into him, into his limbs and his mind. He knew then that the letter was true, that he now had an incredible power. He tightened his fists, wondering how to try his new abilities. Before he could, however, Barry ran into the room, taser aimed, hands shaking.


"Nobody move! I-I-I'm armed!" He relaxed when he saw it was just Dean.


"Dean? What's going on? I heard'a loud boom, an' I saw a big flash'a light. 'S everythin' alright?" Dean regarded Barry calmly. He was only nineteen, and he only worked at the museum in the summers.


"Dean? You alright?" Dean couldn't bring himself to meet Barry's eyes.


"Yeah, Barry, I'm fine. Just a power surge." Barry gasped in pain.


"Barry?" Dean looked up and watched in horror and Barry shook and fell to the floor with a thud. Dean ran toward him to see what had happened, but before he could Barry's body faded away, the only trace of him left was a soft wind that blew softly to to door.


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


It only took seven mistakes for Dean to learn the cost of his newfound power.


If he touched, talked to, or even looked at anyone, they ended up like poor Barry.


Dean was in full, total isolation, the way he always wanted.


He used his power. For good, because anything else would be too easy. In his spare time he tried to find who left the box in the museum. He never did.


I could tell you this is a cautionary tale, to beware mysterious boxes left in museums in the dead of night, but in reality it is simply a story. A story of a man named Dean, who worked the night shift in a museum.

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Thanks to a wonderful app called Brainsparker, I can try this exercise. Once in a while, when writer's block strikes, I will use a random prompt from the Writer's Pack on Brainsparker. Today's prompt