CH.8 The Moment of Electric Shock and the Haunting

“You… looking for trouble?” The tattooed guy’s eyes narrowed, glaring at Sofia with a cold threat.

Sofia trembled, staring at the pair—the man and the woman he was holding hostage, who looked back at her with wide, shocked eyes.

What do I do now? Sofia thought, totally lost.

“Chosen warrior, the spirits of the elements will guide you. Though your power is small, it’s the start of endless possibilities. Face the endless darkness without fear—we and hope are with you,” a gentle, almost holy female voice whispered in Sofia’s ear.

“What was that?” Sofia muttered. First a hallucination, now voices?

“Crazy chick, get lost!” The man, seeing Sofia freeze, kicked at her.

“Ah!” Sofia threw her arms up to block, crashing to the ground. The man yelped in pain, “Ow!”

Sofia looked up, confused, and saw electric sparks crackling on her hands.

“You little—used a taser on me?” The man’s eyes blazed red with rage. He shoved the woman aside and charged at Sofia with his knife.

That voice… it was real? I’ve got powers?! Sofia barely had time to process before the man swung his knife down.

“Ah!” Sofia instinctively raised her hand to block, and the man jolted, his face twisting in pain—her electric sparks zapped him hard.

Snapping into action, Sofia swung a fist at his face. Pow! It wasn’t a heavy hit—she doubted it even hurt the burly guy. But his eyes rolled back, face twitching like he’d been shocked numb.

“What the hell?!” The man shot Sofia a terrified look, then turned and bolted.

“Huff… huff…” Sofia panted, heart racing, still reeling.

“Thanks… uh, what just happened?” The woman stood, brushing herself off, staring at Sofia.

“Oh, you’re okay, that’s good,” Sofia said, forcing a shaky smile. After a pause, she added, “I… don’t really know. Maybe… superpowers?”

“Superpowers?” The woman blinked, confused.

“Okay, should we call the cops? And, uh, what was going on with you?” Sofia asked.

“Cops… maybe not,” the woman said, her voice tinged with sadness. “I’m moving tonight. He probably won’t find me.”

“What was that guy’s deal?”

“It’s my fault,” the woman said. “I’m an escort. He was throwing money at me, so I played along. I should’ve known he’d flip out. Maybe if I’d just… you know, once…”

“Uh…” Sofia didn’t know what to say. Her first time meeting an escort. “Still, isn’t it dangerous? What if he tracks you down?”

“Whatever,” the woman said. “I needed cash ‘cause I blew everything on bad stock investments. Lost it all and racked up debt. I was planning to skip town anyway.”

“Well… good luck, I guess,” Sofia said, at a loss.

“Thanks.” The woman glanced at Sofia’s hands, then turned to leave. “Oh, I’m Ava. Ava Mitchell. Good luck to you too.”

“I’m Sofia…”

As Ava walked away, Sofia stared at her hands, sparks crackling with a faint buzz. It was unreal.

“I… I’ve got superpowers?” Sofia muttered, repeating it to herself. She’d binged enough superhero shows to wonder: what should she call herself? Shock Girl?

Wait… did she forget something?

“Oh no, my eggs!” Sofia gasped. In the chaos of that hallucination, she’d dropped her grocery bag. She picked it up and opened the egg carton—every single egg was smashed, yolk oozing everywhere.

“Ugh… total disaster,” Sofia sighed, heart sinking at the mess.

Across the way, Jane sipped her soda, watching it all unfold and mulling over her plans.

“Hmm… another empowered kid in the mix. Still not a huge boost to the system, though,” Jane thought. “Besides Tommy, I could whip up some ‘villains’ myself.”

Truth be told, Jane was kinda winging it with no grand plan.

She had to keep this under the government’s radar—her backstage setup wasn’t ready yet. But there was a bigger issue: her rent was due soon. What was she supposed to do?

“No way I’m slinging hot dogs again while playing mastermind,” she muttered. Use powers to make cash? Sounded tempting, but… headache city.

Grumbling about life’s struggles, Jane tossed her soda can in the trash and headed home. “Might as well check how my ghost-making scheme’s going…”

In the suburbs, a nervous guy stepped into a fortune-telling shop called Moonlit Crystal. The low wooden building had dark green walls, wind chimes tinkling softly. Inside, dim light came from old brass lamps casting a warm yellow glow. A black velvet cloth covered a table, scattered with tarot cards, a crystal ball, and worn handwritten books. Shelves held crystals, amulets, and herb pouches—a textbook occult shop.

At a table draped in a purple blanket sat a woman in a witchy outfit. Her deep purple dress had silver star patterns, layered bead necklaces hung around her neck, and silver bangles jangled on her wrists. Her long black hair was loosely braided, and her eyes were half-closed as she studied the jittery man in front of her.

“You’ve come here with questions, I presume,” the woman said, opening her eyes. “Speak—what do you seek?”

The man, looking exhausted, met the fortune-teller’s gaze. “I’m not here for a reading. I need to know… can you get rid of ghosts?”

The woman’s lips twitched into a slight smile, hiding a flicker of surprise. “Ghosts?” she asked calmly. “Looking to chat with spirits, or is your place feeling too haunted?”

“It’s a real ghost,” the man said, his voice heavy. “I’ve seen actual paranormal stuff.”

“Hmm… need an exorcism ritual? Or maybe a protective amulet?”

“No… I need something that actually works. I tried amulets from other occult shops—useless. I heard you’re a legit astrologer around here, so I came to try,” the man said.

“If you think you’ve run into something paranormal… maybe a séance could help. About $100 a pop,” she offered.

“If you’re up for it… I’d rather you come with me to check it out tonight. That’s the only way you’ll get how… terrifying this is,” he pleaded.

“Sorry, I don’t leave the shop,” she replied.

“No, that won’t do! You can’t help me like this. It’s a real ghost—no one believes me! The cops think I’m just stressed out, and the church only gave me prayers and holy water. The holy water did nothing,” the man said, anguished, clutching the cross necklace at his chest.

“Well… maybe start with an amulet. These are made with European exorcism wood and herbs, $20 each,” she suggested.

In the end, the man left the shop disappointed, though he bought an amulet anyway.

“Phew, making money’s getting tougher,” Elena, the Gypsy fortune-teller, sighed.

The shop’s bell jingled again. This time, it wasn’t a customer but a girl with makeup and black skull earrings, a backpack slung over one shoulder. She didn’t even glance at Elena, just headed upstairs.

Elena’s daughter, Stalle, a pretty high school girl with Spanish roots, wanted nothing to do with her mom. She tossed her bag down and started scrolling on her phone. Her dad had died in a car crash when she was barely five.

Now, her relationship with Elena was a total powder keg—all because of Elena’s “peak Gypsy stereotype” fortune-telling gig.

Stalle hated it. If she didn’t say anything, no one would guess her Romani heritage. But since elementary school, kids had mocked her as the “Gypsy witch girl” because of Elena’s tarot cards and crystal balls. Elena refused to get a different job, which made Stalle feel humiliated.

“Stalle, you’re back and don’t even say hi?” Elena called from downstairs.

“Yeah, I’m back!” Stalle shouted half-heartedly, standing in her upstairs room. She muttered under her breath, “Freaky old witch, so annoying.”

To her, witches, the supernatural—all that was just a scam.