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Layla's Kingdom

Layla's Kingdom
by T.J. Macias



“Sometimes in life, there are things that science can’t explain. I just happen to be one of them…”



At the delicate age of fourteen, when the grueling process of adolescence hits full throttle, most kids start to take on a heavy amount of teenage problems. Problems like starting high school, building a good social status, worrying about college, dating, driving, and so on and so forth. For young Vinni Wakefield, all these “little issues” take a back seat in her world. For starters, she’s on a couple different types of medication that deals with depression, her father is running for mayor of their city, her uncle is a Catholic Priest who lives with them, her mother was murdered when she was just a little girl, and her friends seem to be living in their own little worlds. And oh, she has an evil doctor on her tail who wrote a series of children’s books based on her. So much for worrying about driving and dating.

You see, Vinni isn’t your normal teenage girl. At the age of six, she was said to have a perfect IQ of 200 and used over 80% for her brain, whereas a normal person would use only 10%. It’s when she caught the eye of a child psychiatrist by the name of Dr. Marvin Antwone that her troubles soon began. Dr. Antwone claimed that when Vinni comes of age, she will start developing powers, powers that normal people could only dream of. Her strongest abilities would lie within Telepathic and Telekinetic talents… reading minds and the ability to move solid objects with her own mind. Antwone went on to write a series of children’s books called “Layla’s Kingdom”:




“Layla’s Kingdom’ isn’t your ordinary children’s fairy tale. While I was still under the care of Antwone, he begin to write this purely fictional children’s book based on me. I remember him claiming that because of my brain capacity, that I would be able to do things that others only could wish for in their wildest fantasies. This included reading minds and harboring telekinetic abilities when I reached a certain age. Layla Littleton is this character who goes on these misadventures to find the man who murdered her mother. The man is only known as ‘The Jazz’, and he hides in the shadows, never revealing his face, and plays the saxophone. Thus explaining my accelerating hatred for the sound of that damn instrument. Antwone went on to write a whole series on Layla, and became one of the best selling authors in history. So much for Harry Potter.”


Now at fourteen, the sarcastic Vinni is regularly seeing Dr. Andrew Coolage, the young psychiatrist that took over after Vinni’s father fired Antwone. So far, Dr. Coolage doesn’t see any of the special “talents” Antwone predicted would come about once Vinni comes of age, developing in his patient. But there is something amiss. Whenever a doctor hooks Vinni up to any machine to run some simple tests, the machine always breaks down or runs a short. Vinni claims she doesn’t know what’s going on. Dr. Coolage hopes she’s right for her own sake, because if his theories prove to be true, Dr. Antwone will return to their city to show Vinni to the world. But Vinni has her own issues to deal with. One night, while playing a game of cards with her friends, she starts to hear what they’re thinking. Suddenly, Vinni becomes violently aware that all her worst fears may in fact be coming true… just as Antwone expected.


“Some Holy water would do you good,” I hear him say as I pass.

“Most likely burn right through me.” I huff, already annoyed that he’s starting so early.

He turns and looks at me. “What would?”

“Holy water.” I disappear into the kitchen.

“I didn’t even say anything,” I hear him call from the living room.


Here’s a snippet of a typical visit to the Doctor’s office for Vinni:

Almost ten minutes later, I’m staring at a sweaty bald man, my eyes fixated on a tiny bead of sweat that’s about ready to fall from his forehead onto his beak-like nose. Hygiene, man, hygiene. What the hell is he doing? Oh, he’s holding up a picture of a snake.

I'm resting on cot in a small white room, my head covered in wires that connect to a machine that's monitoring my brain waves. The loud, beeping contraption also measures how much oxygen my brain consumes when answering a series of really unnecessary questions. The room only has enough space for three people; Dr. Coolage, the nervous doctor, and myself.

I don’t even bother to glance at the picture. “ A duck.” Alright, this is boring. Time to send Coolage back to the drawing board. This will make him reel…

The monitor starts to go crazy. My pulse doesn’t even raise a fraction.

“Vienna! We talked about this!” Dr. Coolage grabs the pictures from the worried doctor. “Now, what the hell is this a picture of? Does it look like a duck to you? Look at me!” he yells at me.

I hate it when he calls me by my full name. Means he’s pissed. Just then, the monitor sparks. Both doctors stand back as the monitor lights up and suddenly breaks down with a pitiful sighing noise. Dr. Coolage drops the picture and jumps back in surprise. There goes another one.

Finally, I look over at Dr. Coolage. I stretch my neck to see the picture he dropped on the desk. “Oh. That’s a rabbit. It looked like a duck from where I was sitting. You need to hold the things a little closer next time.”


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