At thirteen Daniel was using telekinesis to lift bottles of beer, at sixteen he was making cars float in Donnelly’s scrapyard while squashing rats with a twitch of his eyebrows, blood scattered across the yard like a Jackson Pollock painting.
These days he mostly made spilt milk and bottles of formula float in mid-air, forming shapes and patterns like butterflies and unicorns to entertain Grace until she fell asleep.
When Grace was restless, he made her float around the nursery. He never forgot the gurgling sound of wonder and laughter she made when floating, like she was invisible and weightless.
About the author: Stephen is a writer from Ireland.