Psychoanapesis

I stood by and stared out of my bedroom window, admiring my beautiful, transformed garden.

Ever since I was a very young child, I’ve had this abnormal ability to make flora grow exceedingly fast. When I was younger, I would focus really hard for several minutes on flowers and trees, before staring in awe as they eventually began to tower into the sky, and witness the widening stem or trunk stretching the soil.

I had also tried this ability on my own fingernails, just to see if it would make them grow, but anytime I tried it my fingers would very quickly clamp up in a sharp, writhing pain. I had also tried this on the family dog when she was just a puppy, but again after a few seconds, she scampered away yelping in pain.

As I got older, I also tried it with weeds, mushrooms, fungus, and moss. I would channel all my mental energy onto one certain plant for several minutes, and then watch it emerge from the ground, and grow. A few months ago, I named my own ability Psychoanaptesis.

When I searched the internet for my phenomenon, all that I found were thousands of articles on Telekinesis. I took out frying pans from the drawers, and books from our shelves, and tried at first to move them, and then perhaps to enlarge them. No luck with either attempt.

Thanks to my Psychoanaptesis, all of my plants have fully flourished and my garden is flawless. The lush green grass is clean and evenly cut, surrounded by a thick border of vibrant, cacophonous colours; white, pink, violet, yellow, blue, and red, all such striking flowers, clashing with the verdant jungle of sturdy, thick green stems and healthy, lush leaves.

It was hard to believe that only yesterday the flowers were nothing but seeds buried in the dry, cracked muck, and that the grass was an ugly, mismatched mess fouled with various weeds and dry yellow patches. I irrigated the soil while scattering and dispersing various seeds along the way, and afterwards I dashed the lawn with weed-killer and fertilizer. When that was done, I took a risk and tried my Psychoanaptesis on the lawn. Within a few minutes, the stems slithered from beneath the surface of the soil while the buds swelled, opened up, and drank the sunlight.

As soon as I heard a knock at the door, I spotted something potentially concerning. I took out my phone to text my sweetheart, telling her to come in and that I’m in my bedroom. Focusing on the concern, I took my glasses from my bedside locker, and looked out the window again. This only confirmed my suspicions. One of the bluebells on the left side of my garden was hanging limp and turning a murky grey; it was beginning to wither and die. To my knowledge, this had actually never happened to me before.

I heard my sweetheart’s footsteps on the landing just outside my room, so I quickly took off my glasses just before she entered my room. She slowly opened the door. She was wearing lipstick as red as the tulips at the back of the garden; her emerald eyes gleamed like tiny dewdrops on a blade of grass, and her devilish grin gave me butterflies in my stomach.

We talked for a little while before we began fooling around. She pushed me onto the bed, sat on my lap, and clasped her mouth around my lips. I responded by clasping mine back, before turning her around and laying her on the bed. I began to undress her, as she stroked her nimble fingers down my chest, down my stomach, and then gripping my belt. Before I knew it, we were both fully nude, lovingly embracing each other while sharing a passionate kiss.

Her eyelashes fluttered and her eyes closed slowly, as I began to thrust myself inside her; first slowly, but speeding up every few seconds. She let out a soft moan at first, but as I continued to thrust faster and faster, she moaned louder and louder, until she was screaming in glorious bliss. I started to become lost in her pleasure, not paying any notice to anything around me and surrendering myself to the euphoric feeling of my sweetheart’s embrace.

I kept thrusting and thrusting, sweat pouring from my forehead down my face, my pelvis clashing against her lower back. I now couldn’t tell if she was screaming in pleasure or pain, but at this point I didn’t care. She had me completely entranced; nothing else mattered to me there and then other than making love to her, and I channelled all of my energy into pleasuring both of us. I reached out my hands and grabbed her hips tight, thrusting, and tighter, thrusting, and tighter, thrusting, and ti–

I froze.

Horrific realization struck me. The rotting bluebells had all hung limp and had turned into a grotesque, dead grey.

I had grabbed her hips tightly and they felt like wrinkled boiled leather. I had only ever used it on flora.

The puppy yelping in pain. Her screaming. She hadn’t made a sound since the painful screaming.

I looked down at her.

My mouth hung open in shock as I stared into her empty white eyes. I stroked her emaciated grey hair which felt like a wirey scouring pad. Her skin was withered into a pale grey-blue like a recovering bruise all over her frail, bony body. I removed my flaccid-self from her, the colour draining from me and coming out in horrified hyperventilation. I removed my hands from the icy, gristly wrinkles on her body. I stared down at her withered, deceased body. Her bones stuck out of her skin like misshapen anthills.

My abnormal powers didn’t make life grow. It made it age.