Abby: Training Ground

Gabby stood in the large meadow, surrounded by fruit trees - Apple, peach, pear, oranges, pomegranates. Of course these trees belonged in different climates, different seasons, but it didn't matter. The training ground, (for that's what it was,) occupied a space out of time, out of place. It existed because the gods chose it to exist, to train the newcomers.  She stood with her arms folded, her chin jutted out, her teeth clenched as she watched Mr. Sydney stroll casually toward her through an aisle of apple trees. He reached his open hand up, and a red delicious apple fell into it from a high branch. He munched on it as he approached her. She stepped forward, grabbed the half eaten fruit, and threw it across the clearing.

"What's your problem?"  he frowned, irritated. The sky above him darkened.

"Lightening! Really? What were you thinking Sydney? The bolt hit her in the back, It could have damaged her spinal column, left her a paraplegic. You're such an a--hole!"  she barked at him in a barely controlled fury.

" It's Mister Sydney. Show some respect." Clouds formed above the meadow, and flashes of heat lightening darted among them.

" A rose by any other name ... you're still an idiot. You run the corporate headquarters, I run the estate. The estate includes the newcomers. You had no right to throw volts at Emily, or ... or ... chloroform Chloe!" She sputtered with anger.

" They resisted," he snarled back at her.

A full on storm raged around them as they shouted at each other. Emily, Marc and Chloe walked hesitantly through the storm surrounded by a protective bubble of Marc's. They stood huddled at the edge of the clearing, hoping Mr. Sydney didn't blow them all away in the gale force winds. 

Glancing in their direction, Gabby shouted "Enough." 

She made a sharp circular motion, and a flat palmed pushing motion at Mr. Sydney. He disappeared, and the storm with it. The three young people came forward.

" Where'd he go?" Emily asked.

" Back to his office in the city - in the middle of next week. I can manipulate time and space. He'll only remember our argument as being a week old, and he'll be over it. I diffused a potentially dangerous storm and the instigator of it, into another place and time frame. Marc, you already protected the ladies with your bubble, but how would you have changed the danger of the storm? Or you Chloe, or you, Emily? What would you have done?" 



The End

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