The Gift

By Willem Jonkman

Sunlight spilled through the windows as he dusted his rolling pin with flour. He needed to hurry or his dough will dry out and he would have to make more. The front door's bell rang as a customer entered.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" Andre looked up from his dough. Why wasn't Doug out there? Ah yes, Doug had taken the day off so he would have to work the counter as well. Andre walked out to the counter.

"Hello, can I help you?" The woman standing on the other side eyed him with distaste.

"You aren't Doug."

"Well, no I'm not. But you specifically asked for anyone, Doug or not." Her distaste flashed to anger

"Don't get smart with me young man. Now go get me Doug."

"I'm afraid it's his day off. You'll have to deal with me."

She raised her head, revealing gaping nostrils and stared Andre down.

As she removed her glasses to get a better look at him he motioned to the racks of bread and pastry that were lying around.

"Can I help you?"

"I suppose you will have to do." She huffed and returned her glasses to their oversized perch. "I want my usual." Andre waded through the awkward silence.

"Which is…" he prompted

She huffed again.

"I want a dozen muffins, a loaf of white bread- none of that healthy brown stuff you try to sell people, good old fashioned white. Along with three jelly filled squares, 6 glazed donuts…"

After about three minutes of this Andre's mind began to wander. Remembering his dough he ran off in the middle of her stream of demands.

"I'll be back in just a second!"

Perhaps his dough was salvageable yet. It had been just the right consistency when he had been so rudely interrupted.

Ah. It wasn't too dry. He picked up his rolling pin again as it was still useable as a base for something flaky or---

"How dare you leave me out there looking like a fool!"

Right. Her.

Andre calmly picked up the dough and placed it into a bowl, placing a wet cloth over it so that it would stay good.

"I'm sorry but I had to make sure my dough was—"

"I am a customer! I deserve far more respect than some dough! Anyone can make bread! You had the nerve to leave me out here in the middle of my order and—"

Andre had had enough. He was trying his best, but she just kept screaming at him. And his Dough was drying. If she would just be quiet it would be so much more— wait.

She is being quiet. In fact she seems to have left. He looked around the shop. No sign of her. Smiling, he looks behind the counter to make sure she actually had left.

Instead she was lies on the ground lifeless, with a trickle of blood coming out of her ear.

Oh dear.

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Andre picked up his dough from the bowl. Even with the wet towel it had dried out. Dry dough was the least of his worries. This would keep his mind off things, at least for a while. The image runs through his mind once more. The body lying still on the floor. A small amount blood running from the ear. He picked up his rolling pin and began to roll the toughened dough.

The dough had other ideas however. It cracked and crumbled under the pin, refusing to acknowledge Andre as its master. It was tedious work but more relaxing then dragging a body into a breadbasket. Until he could figure out what to do with her—it, it would have to stay there. Andre scooped the pieces of onto a baking sheet. It was too dry and crusty to make anything edible, or at least worth eating. He turned the oven on to preheat. Andre sat on the counter beside the baking sheet. Should he tell the police? That would probably be the smart descision. They always seem to find out about these things on the TV. But this was real life, it was possible that he could outsmart them. Afterall, he was not just any baker but the three time winner of the golden soufle award! The timer rang. Andre slid the baking sheet into the oven. Yes, there were many people who got away with murder. He was only out to get away with being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And possibly raising the lady's blood pressure a bit.

Another bell rang. This one was the door's ringer, which was odd as he had put the closed sign up. He rushed out front and saw Doug.

Doug picked up the sign from the door and waved it at Andre.

"Hi Andre, having some problems with your first time alone?"

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

"Oh Doug, uh Hi!" Doug smiled.

"Yeah, so what's the problem?"

Andre's mind raced.

"Oh uh, nothing big. Just um, a big accident in the back!"

Doug frowned. "A ‘not big' big accident? Andre, are you feeling allright you look sick."

Of course he looked sick! He was trying to get rid of his boss so that he could dispose of a dead lady! "Oh no, I'm fine, go enjoy your day off Doug!"

"Nah, since I'm here I might as well help you clean up."

"What? Why? Nonono, you should go rest, you don't look so well yourself."

"Nonsense. I feel fine. Wait, is something burning?"

Andre frowned. "It must be because they were dry already" he muttered

Doug jumped over the counter. "Well we'd better see what it is then." He split into another grin.

Andre was almost smiling too when he noticed the smoke wafting in from the back."Nonono! No burning!" Andre yelled as he rushed into the backn to rescue his stick things from the oven. He had almost made it when he saw that Doug had beat him there by jumping over the counter. He reached the oven while panting. "You really… shouldn't… do that… going to… hurt yourself…" Today had taken it's toll on Andre's health.

"Well you need to exercise more" Doug said "You're going to hurt yourself if you don't."Doug grabbed some oven mitts and opened the door.

A puff of greasy black smoke escaped from the oven. "Whew Andre, what did you put in here?"

"Um… It was an experiment to see what would come out if you let the dough dry." Doug pulled out the tray of now-charred bread bits.

"Success or failure then?" He asked.

Andre looked at the smoking tray. "I don't think anyone would buy them."

"They might if we said it was French." Andre's eyes wandered to the bread basket where the lady was hidden. He had to get Doug out so that he could deal with her. It. "Well Andre?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I asked where the mess was."

Ah right. His cover story.

"Well I had.. uh just finished cleaning it up when you got here." Andre said "And you must be busy today, I'll be fine by myself."

Doug nodded. "All right Andre. I guess you can handle yourself. After all,I can't see any signs of a mess. I'll just put these in a basket so we can try to sell them tomorrow."

Andre's eyes widened.

"That won't be necessary Doug!" Andre said as he grabbed the tray out of Doug's hands "You can go noooooooow!!!!" Andre dropped the hot tray and the bread scattered on the floor.

Doug suppressed a laugh. "I guess I'll just be going now." He smiled again and dashed off.

Andre was still waving his hands around in pain when he heard the scream.

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

Doug leaned back in his hospital bed. He was bored and had nothing to do. Andre sat in the corner figiting and staring at his feet. Doug sighed.

"This isn't your fault you know."

Andre looked up and made as if he was going to say something, but couldn't think of what. Poor guy. It really wasn't his fault.

It was Doug's fault for not listening to Andre. But Doug just had to show off and jump over the counter anyway.

"I'm sorry anyway." Andre finally got the words out. "This whole thing is my fault." A trickle of sweat ran down his brow. "Do you think I should go back to mind the bakery? After all it reall is my fault and I should go try to—"

"Andre, I said that this wasn't your fault. And it isn't. Now I hereby order you to take the day off and keep me company."

This seemed to make Andre even more tense. "I'm not going to bite your head off. I promise. My wife might when she gets here though. Just like you she never istens to what what actually happened." Doug felt a wince of pain in his leg and smiled to cover it up. Jenn never had liked Andre. She always looked at him like he was something that smelled unpleasent and tried to blame things on him.

Andre's eyes widened. "Jenn? Coming here?"

Doug chuckled. "Allright, you can leave when she gets here. But until then I command that you entertain me!" Ah good. That seemed to put Andre more at ease.

Andre smiled back. "How did you ever get that uptight lady at the Bakery to like you?"

"Who? Mrs. Nelson? Bah, she doesn't like me. She just puts up with me so that she can get her glazed donuts. Did she come in today?"

Andre's face drained of colour."Oh no! Definitely not. I uh, just saw her with you the other day and she glared at me… yeah."

"Are you feeling alright Andre? You don't look so well. And this coming from the guy in the cast."

Andre clenched his fists. "I'll be fine. We're in a hospital after all."He glanced around nervously."Did I lock the door I don't think I locked the door. I should go back and check."

Doug furrowed his brow. "Are you afraid of hospitals? You seem to be anxious to get out of here." Andre's face seemed to light up.

"Huh? Oh yeah! That must be it. I had a horrible accident that involved a hospital when I was younger."

"Most horrible accidents do involve hospitals yes. But think of this as the perfect opportunity to get over your fears! Stare them down and show them what you're made of I always say." He punched the sir to get his point across, but twisted in his cast which sent another shot of pain through his leg. "Ow! Don't they have drugs for this kind of thing?"

Andre jumped out of his chair and headed out the door. "I'll see if I can get some!"

"See if you can get some magazines," Doug gestured at the pile of outdated popular mechanics, "and some real food too!" Hopefully Jenn would be here soon. Andre was no company at all.

Andre hurried back to the bakery, as fast as his Volvo would carry him. If he could just get rid of Mrs. Nelson… no It! It isn't Mrs. Nelson anymore. If he could get rid of it then everything would be fine. He sighed. Everything probably wouldn't be fine then. The police would eventually find out that it was him. Wait. It Wasn't him. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. As he pulled into the parking lot a wave of relief washed over him. He even began to whistle as he walked inside to the breadbasket where the body was. He abruptly stopped after he lifted the lid and saw that the body was gone.

Andre searched all night, but nothing turned up. Except for a back issue of "Bakers Monthly" and a few stale bagels. Even though all of the doors were closed and locked he checked outside. All he succeeded in adding to his collection were the shoes that a drunk chucked at him while singing "Amazing Grapes."

Andre slumped against the door. "I'll never find her… if she wasn't dead she could be anywhere…"

He shivered violently. Not from the cold but from his nerves. In a last ditch effort he stood up and yelled. He was rewarded a car alarm going off and several people yelling variations of "Shaddup!" from their windows.

Dejected and defeated, he slumped back to the bakery. He looked at his hands and saw that he was carrying the drunk's shoes. He could smell them even though they were at his side. In fact he could still here the drunk singing.

"Saved a wrench like… saved a wrench like… uhhh, like weeeee!"

Andre looked down the alley and saw him singing to the fire escape. The stench got stronger as Andre approached.

"Hey you! Yeah you! Take your shoes back!" The drunk turned and stared blankly at Andre for a moment.

"Shoes… shhhhhoooooeees…. I'm not wearing any shoes…"

Andre sighed. "I know you aren't because you threw them at me."

Another blank stare met him. "But I don't have shoes, so they can't be mine."

The sigh turned to annoyance. "Look do you want them or not?"

"Hrm… I'm bind but now I'm cheese!" Andre closed his eyes and put his hands to his face. Today had not been the easiest day ever. It probably contends for the worst day ever. No, the media says starving kids in Africa have it worse. Do they though? Africa wouldn't have the problem of trying to run from the police. "Heh… possess… pohzess… pazoss… pizooooooos"

Ok. That's it. Snapping time.

"You aren't making my day any easier!" Andre threw the shoes on the ground and began to advance on the drunk. " Just take your damn shoes and get out of my life!" Pressed against the wall, the drunk tried to say something but was cut off. "Drunks like you are a burden on everyone and everything you touch!" Andre towered over the cowering drunk, who was forced to the ground. "The world wouldn't notice if you just up and died!"

Panting, Andre staggered backwards. He had never yelled at somebody like that before. He looked at the body cowering against the wall. In the faint streetlight he saw a drop of blood fall from its ear. Andre's eyes widened. It looked like this was going to be a problem.

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

"Doug, my life is falling apart."

Doug looked through the tears in his eyes.

"Your life? Andre, my wife just died. The doctors have no idea why. And it turns out she was pregnant!"

Andre paused. Maybe he wasn't in such a bad position. Starving kids in Africa have it worse. But at least they know what's going on. So far four people have died, and he had no idea why.

"I think the police may be after me."

Doug's eyes widened. "What? Why!?"

"Also I think that it's my fault Jenn died."

Doug sighed "You're doing it again."

"Doing? Doing what?"

"It's the same as when you blamed yourself for breaking my leg. The doctors said it was heart failure. You couldn't have done that." He looked pitingly at andre. "The police probably aren't looking for you either."

Andre leaned on the wall and thought about that for a minute. Doug was the one who read the mystery novels and watched those police shows, he should know what to do. "Assuming they were, what would be the best way to escape?"

Doug blinked and shifted his weight to his crutch. "Andre, you can't possibly be thinking of running. Even if the police were after you, running away from them is one of the stupidest things you can do."

A frown came across Andre's face "Then what do you propose?"

"Turn yourself in. I'm sure whatever you did wasn't intentional. Let the system work it out."

"But I wouldn't last ten seconds in jail! I wouldn't be able to do anything to take my mind off it! And the other prisoners! I bet they never wash their hands!"

Doug's saddened face attempted to return to its usual laughing nature. He managed a smile tinged with sadness while fighting the tears. "Same old Andre. If you really want to run from the police, here's what I would do…"

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

He ran through the bushes. The police would naturally look for him here, but he was just going to catch his breath and move on. It was almost like when he was little. He had been the champion of hide and seek, never found once. Of course then his parents had banned him from playing it after he didn't come when he was called. The police had been involved, everyone thought he had been abducted or had ran away. Andre smiled. He had been in his favourite spot to hide, the birdhouse with a loose board on the top. He used squeeze himself inside and put the roof back, then look out the hole in front. It had been a slight overreaction to ban him from hide and seek for life, but his parents always used to do things like that. Andre sighed. There was no way that he would be able to fit in something like that again. He stood up from his seat on the ground and began to stealthily creep through the forest again. It wouldn't be easy to hide from the police now…

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

Andre sat on the little bed in his cell. It was cleaner than he had expected. Not clean enough for Andre's taste but better then it could have been. The door at the end of the hall swung open, and his guard walked in, carrying a newspaper.

"Uh, excuse me, how long am I in here for?" Andre said.

The guard stopped walking and turned to face him. "You? You're in for suspicious behaviour right?"

Andre snapped up. "Yes sir! And creating a nuisance sir!"

The guard's face slowly formed a smile. "You don't have to be afraid. We're very humane here. I assure you your execution will be quick and painless."

All the blood drained from Andre's face and his jaw fell open a crack. Had they found out? They couldn't of! There can't be enough evidence to warrant an execution! The guard belly laughed. "I'm just kidding. You don't have any priors so you'll be let out tomorrow with a slap on the wrists." The guard turned and finished walking to his chair. Andre just slumped to the floor. "Did you really think that we were going to execute you? Do you overreact to everything like that, or do you just have a guilty conscience?" The guard unfurled his paper and began to read.

Andre sat on the floor for a few minutes, waiting for his blood to get back to his head. When he could think straight he looked at the guard's newspaper and saw the headline. "DRUNK FOUND DEAD GREENHOUSE"

Andre was not happy about moving. It had taken weeks to find an apartment, and it only had enough room for half of his baking supplies. He still had to find a job, and his only useful skill was baking. Doug promised him a glowing letter of recommendation, but only if Andre promised to visit him occaisionaly. "Going cold turkey from your souffles would drive any sane man mad." Doug said while driving the selected half to Andre's small new apartment.

"It's not like I'm going by choice," Andre replied, "it's to make sure that no one finds out."

Doug laughed "I really don't think anyone will ever ‘find out.' You haven't even told me!"

"Because you'd hate me!"

"Andre, you're like family to me. And the only I have left at that. There's no way I could hate you."

"You'd be surprised…" Andre slumped into his seat. The awkward silence that followed lasted the rest of the two hour drive.

"I don't care how many awards you've won! You'll pack bread in the back with rest of them till you prove your worth."Andre's new boss, Cooper, gnashed on his cigar and stormed to his upstairs office.

Andre grabbed a new box and threw the prepackaged bread into it. Unfitting work for an artist. High and mighty Cooper probably couldn't bake a croissant to save his cigar! Which he shouldn't have in a restaurant/bakery anyway!

Wait… stay calm.

Andre struggled to calm his breathing and his temper. Until he finds out whether or not he is responsible for the deaths… that woman, the drunk, Jen… he needed to keep his temper under control.

"No no no, pack them this way." Andre looked up at the young man who had spoken. He was wearing a white apron and hair net like him. "Grab them by the tuft and set them in the box. Like that!" Unlike Andre, he was smiling.

"You've been doing this a long time then?" Andre asked.

"Couple of years now." He extended a hand "I'm Pat by the way" Andre took Pat's hand and introduced himself to the first friend he found in his new home.

"Are you sure this is a good idea Andre?"

"Lots of people drink when they're depressed" Andre saw Pat's still worried look. "It'll be fine. I'll watch your back."

An hour later, Pat had passed out on the bar. Thinking that signalled it was time to go, Andre started shaking him. "Pat? Pat!"

"Let him sleep some of it off."

Andre looked up from shaking Pat. There was a woman at the other end of the bar. With short blue hair and a spike through her nose Andre was surprised he didn't notice her earlier. "Are you sure? He's never done this before. Well… neither have I."

Instead of answering, she walked over to Andre. And resat down.

"So what happened to him anyway?"

"Oh, he uh- lost his job. Had it for years."

"It probably wasn't a good job anyway. So no loss there. Lily." Andre waited for her to continue. When she didn't he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

She let out a short laugh. "My name."

"Oh! I'm Andre."

Something that sounded like a cross between a sea lion and a lawnmower came from Pat. "Well I guess I'd better be going now." Said Andre while hoisting Pat onto his shoulder. He staggered around. Pat was heavier then he looked and no help at all.

Lily laughed again. "You'll never get him out that way. Let me help."

"Nonono, those boxes go in the truck." Pat said.

"You mean the one that isn't here yet?"

"That's the one. Just put them in the corner till it gets here."

Andre set the boxes down. Pat had managed to cram an awful lot of stuff in such a small apartment. "Are you taking the china?"

"No, it would probably break. Make sure to pack the rolling pin and bowls though." Andre smiled. Pat had been greatly improving at baking. Teaching somebody something was a nice feeling.

"Where are you going again Pat?" Andre asked.

"It's a rather large city. Hopefully I'll be able to find a job there."

"You have an apartment?"

Pat's face took on an inquisitive look as he wiped sweat from his brow. "Yeah. I wouldn't be moving if I didn't."

Andre fidgeted. Despite the embarrassment he asked anyway. "Does it have room for someone else?"

"What, you? Why would you want to leave? You have a job, and that girl Lily seems to be really interested in you!"

"I don't think I can take both Cooper and her for much longer. So can I stay with you?"

"I guess so. But you shouldn't. I was fired, not you."

A honk came from outside. Pat breathed a sigh of relief, which gave way to anger. "That'll be the truck. An hour late."

"It worked in our favour, I didn't think you would have had so much stuff."

"How does nothing ever seem to phase you Andre?"

Andre grabbed his boxes. "Constant practice."

Journal entry 1, May fifth.

I have just moved in with Pat. There's not enough room for both of us, so I'm looking for my own apartment. The reason I started this journal is to catalogue what seems to be my "gift." Even though it seems to be a curse to me.

So far the only way I have found to control this is to be unemotional. I would like to try other methods, but that would require people dying. In order to prevent this I will attempt to seclude myself from people and attempt to find a source of income at home.

Well then. Pat closed the journal and put it back where it fell from. Andre certainly has his secrets. Pat was no exception. He should probably tell Andre he found it. He wouldn't be angry, Andre was never angry. Pat sat down at the table, working on another job application. Virtually anywhere would be better than where he was now. The job title wasn't ‘McSlave' for nothing.

As the sky darkened Andre returned from job hunting. No one needed a baker these days. Most people just bought brand name bread. He kicked a rock on the way to the apartment building's dingy steps. Pat's new job paid minimum wage, and since Andre couldn't contribute much it meant that they had to live in this dump. At least their landlord was nice. Or at least considerate enough to not get caught spying on people. The sky kept on darkening. A storm was coming. The trees began to sway as the wind picked up. The overgrown bushes nearby rustled. The wind abruptly died down, but the bushes kept rustling for a second.

He froze. The police. They had found him. Somehow they must have traced him to the deaths of all those people. A cat jumped out from them and yoweled at Andre. He suddenly wished he never had to leave his home again. To just stay inside and bake all day, not having to worry about staying calm in the face of anger.

He clambered up the stairs. Each step felt like a mountain. The blissful oblivion of sleep awaited him. The tantalizing scent taunted his nostrils.

Andre opened the door and stumbled onto the couch. "Goodnight Pat."

Pat looked up from the form he was working on. "Andre? You can't sleep yet! I have something to tell you!"

"It can wait till the morning."

Pat waited for a minute. Each second was harder than the last. He had invaded Andre's privacy. Tick tock.

"No it can't Andre. I'm sorry I found your journal and read it."

His eyes snapped open. Adrenalin surged through his body. Fear was taking over. How much did he put in that journal? Enough to incriminate him? Does Pat just think he's crazy now? What should he do?

"Andre?" Pat's voice came from the doorway where he now stood. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It just fell out of its box."

Andre stood up off the couch. His eyes were still wide open. He walked to the door as if in a trance. "I'm going to go now. I'll probably be back." As he grasped the doorknob a knock from the other side knocked Andre back to his senses.

He opened the door.

"Lily? What? Why are you here?"

"You." Her short blue hair seemed to bristle with malice. "You left without saying anything. One day you were just gone."

Andre's blood drained from his face. Another complication. "Well you see—"

"No talking. You could have said something before. You had your chance to talk now it's my turn." She pushed him back into the apartment.

"Look Lily, it was for your own good."

"My own good? My own good! Why couldn't you let me decide for myself what's good for me!"

She was screaming at Andre. This is precisely why he left. Yelling won't solve anything."If you'd just listen to me---"

Her hand hit Andre like a viper "You think I'm going to listen to you!"

His face burned. "Well maybe that's your problem! You don't listen to anybody! That's why I left! You just didn't stop! Maybe if you thought things through you would—"

A scream cut Andre off.

"Oh my God she's not breathing!" Pat yelled. Lily was sprawled out on the floor. "Call an ambulance! Andre! Andre!" Pat's words fell deaf on his ears. One thought continued to race though his mind. Not another one. Not another one.

The clock in the corner ticked on and on. "I'm sorry Doug." Andre stared at it. Looking at anything but Doug was good. He couldn't bear to see his friend cry.

"I don't believe it. I can't believe it." Doug said through bursts of tears. He looked up at Andre, whose eyes were fixed firmly on the clock. "Prove it."

Andre looked at Doug. He had stopped crying and was staring at Andre. "What? You want me to prove that I can… that I have a power?"

"If you can't then you couldn't of killed Jen." A wild grin split across Doug's face. "Which you didn't. You're my friend."

"I won't demonstrate Doug." Andre heaved a sigh, "I just thought you should know before I go into hiding." Andre got halfway to the door when Doug grabbed his shoulder.

"Prove it." Doug's eyes glazed over, "Prove it!" spittle flew from his mouth and he fell to his knees, "Prove it prove it prove it prove it prove it!" his head fell.

Andre had to pull hard to escape Doug's mad grip. "I'm sorry Doug. Truly." Doug's head snapped back up and glared at Andre.

"Then bring her back! Bring her back!" Andre hurried to the door and took one last look at his utterly destroyed friend.

"Goodbye Doug."

The wind cut through Andre's shirt. He probably should have brought some warmer clothes. A mist began to creep across the trees, slowly hiding his view from the hill he was on. All the better for one who doesn't want to be found.

Andre sat on a rock. It wasn't a very large rock, but it held him. So this is what his life is going to be like now.

Alone.

Everyone he ever knew was dead thanks to him. It couldn't be anything else. Death and destruction await anyone who comes into contact with him. He would probably starve to death eventually.

SMALL PLOT GRAPH

Beginning:

Andre starts killing people with his mind when he thinks about them. He leaves his job so that his best friend doesn't fall victim.

Middle: He finds new friends and a new life. He meets a girl who is interested in him but runs away so that she doesn't die from his power

He attempts to survive in his new home, but that proves difficult. The girl finds him and she dies. Andre leaves to try and have a life where he knows no one.

This fails, many many people die.

End: He attempts to live in seclusion. Possibly change to take over the world or defend it from evil people.