Silent Gifts

f I told you fallen angels really existed, you’d probably think I was crazy. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t true—at least, not all of it.

It started like any other typical day. Car horns blared like a symphony of chaos, traffic jammed within seconds, and the buses were running an hour behind schedule. Naturally, I missed my first class—where a big test was waiting, one I’d barely studied for. Still, missing it sucked. I mean, even scoring a single percent would've been better than a flat zero.

Next up was Chemistry. Yeah, I know—ugh. I hated it. But there was one redeeming factor: Marissa Tabile. She was, hands down, the prettiest girl in class. I’d never actually spoken to her before, but for some reason that day, I felt… bold. Maybe it was the frustration from traffic or the disappointment of missing my test. Whatever it was, I walked in feeling cool.

For the first time ever, the seat next to Marissa was empty. I rushed over and took it—and to my surprise, she smiled.

“I can see you’re a fan of Pop-Tarts,” she chuckled, pointing to the wrapper stuck to my shoe.

Embarrassing, right? I’d eaten one on my way out the door and somehow didn’t notice it hitching a ride. I peeled it off, my face turning red, but she only laughed more.

“Don’t worry, I’ve done that before. You should try the cinnamon ones. I promise you won’t be disappointed,” she said, pulling out a pack. “Here, I’ll split it with you. Like a Twix bar, but obviously Pop-Tarts are superior.”

She handed me half. I hesitated—half from disbelief, half from nerves—but took it anyway.

“So, what do you think?” she asked.

“It’s good,” I said between bites.

Marissa looked appalled. “Just good? No, no, no—it’s grrrrrrreat,” she said in her best Tony the Tiger impression. Apparently, she was a Frosted Flakes fan too.

“Maybe you just need it toasted,” she added. “Are you one of those toasted Pop-Tart people?”

I grinned. Marissa was funny. That wasn’t something I expected. Girls like her were usually cold or standoffish—at least, the ones I'd seen from afar. But Marissa was different. Genuine. Warm. Funny. And for some reason, she was talking to a nerd like me—a guy with thick glasses, pink headphones, and a Dragon Ball Z shirt.

That alone felt like a superpower.

Mr. Kramer walked in just as my heart started to level out.

“Alright everyone, today is the big day—presentation day. I hope you all brought something interesting to show and tell.”

His eyes locked onto mine like a heat-seeking missile. It was obvious—I hadn’t done the project. Classic late-night gaming consequences.

“So,” Marissa whispered. “Judging by the way he’s grilling you… no project?”

I nodded silently.

“Same,” she admitted. “I’ve never really been a chemistry girl. I wanted to go to art school, but my dad insisted on something stable. ‘You don’t want to be a starving artist, do you Marissa?’ he always says. I get it. But working your whole life on someone else’s dream? No thanks.”

We weren’t so different, her and I. Just two people caught between expectations and self-discovery.

“Like music to my ears,” I said.

Marissa blushed and looked away. Was she… nervous?

“Say,” she said suddenly. “You want to get out of here? I mean, clearly this isn’t our thing. Or should I say, our plate of Pop-Tarts?”

Mr. Kramer’s voice cut in from across the room. “Volunteers?”

Marissa looked at me, caught off guard.

“Umm… I left my project in the car,” I blurted.

Mr. Kramer raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me, Mr. Carter, but didn’t you come in on the bus this morning?”

“Nope. Must’ve been someone else.”

He sighed and tapped his foot. “Just go, but make it quick. Miss Tabile, you’re up.”

“No! I mean… she can’t,” I said.

His foot tapping intensified.

“And why is that?”

“Well, her project’s in my car too. We carpool.”

“Miss Tabile lives on the opposite side of the city.”

“We’re... expanding the carpooling network?”

Mr. Kramer groaned. “Whatever game you two are playing, I better see a presentation from both of you—today.”

We nodded, then bolted out of class and made a beeline for the nearest comic bookstore. Little did Mr. Kramer know, the only thing he'd be getting was a withdrawal slip.

Inside the comic shop, we were like kids in a candy store.

“So… you’re into Bleach, huh?” Marissa asked, intrigued. “What do you like about it? Most people say it drags. Like Naruto’s fillers or DBZ’s ten-episode fights.”

“I mean, fair,” I laughed. “But if you actually finish it, there's depth. It makes me feel like I’m something more. Like I have a Bankai.”

“Bankai?” Her eyes lit up. “What’s that?”

We sat at a nearby table, and I explained.

“Bankai means ‘transformation.’ When a character unlocks it, their true inner power is revealed. It’s like… becoming who you were meant to be.”

I hesitated.

“Go on,” she said softly. “I’m listening.”

“For me, Bankai is a way of life. We may not be soul reapers, but I think we all have a version of it inside us. A moment when we rise to our potential—because we believe in something enough.”

Marissa stared at me like she could see straight into my soul.

“You’re something else, Tristen,” she said in a faux British accent. “Didn’t catch your first name before.”

“It’s Tristen. And yours is Marissa, right?”

“Good memory, Tristen. I’m watching you.”

She leaned closer, her thigh brushing against mine. My heart raced.

“So… what do you think my Bankai would be?” she asked.

“I think…” I paused. “You’re already showing it.”

She laughed and playfully punched my shoulder. “Stop being romantic—we’re in a comic shop. There’s no room for that sentimental crap.”

The cashier pointed to a literal sign overhead: “NO SENTIMENTAL CRAP.”

We burst out laughing. It felt like we’d just finished a hundred crunches.

Marissa was more than I ever imagined. But that moment—our laughter, the warmth between us—was shattered by something unexplainable.

The ground shook. Windows shattered.

“Earthquake!” the cashier screamed. “Under the tables!”

Panic erupted. People fled in chaos. But Marissa… she didn’t move. She stared at the massive hole now gaping in the roof.

“Marissa, get under the table!” I shouted, grabbing her hand.

“It’s too late,” she whispered. “It’s already started. I just wish I had more time…”

“Time for what? Just come on!”

But the girl standing in front of me wasn’t the same. Her aura changed. Even her brown eyes shimmered with a golden glow.

I followed her gaze upward—and there, in the sky, were five massive black holes. My stomach dropped. Holes never meant anything good.

“You need to go, Tristen. I’ll be fine. I have to do this,” she said.

I stammered. I didn’t know what to say.

Marissa smiled softly and kissed me. “Just save me a Pop-Tart, okay?”

If I could’ve frozen time, I would’ve.

Before my very eyes, Marissa took to the skies like Superman — or should I say, Supergirl. I couldn’t see it until now, but maybe, just maybe, this was Marissa’s Bankai.

Was I beginning to doubt everything I ever believed?

Bankai had become my way of life, but there I stood, in awe of the reality of it. Marissa was the embodiment of it.

I remembered my grandma always lecturing my dad about how we all had these gifts hidden within us. She called them Silent Gifts. I didn’t know what that meant, but now... I was starting to understand. Maybe Silent Gifts were something like a Bankai.

Then I felt a vibration on the side of my leg. My phone.

“Tristen, where are you? Me and your dad just picked up your sister. We’re on our way to Seattle right now to come get you.”

It was the most scared I’d ever heard my mom. Even my dad sounded panicked — and he was never scared of anything.

“Don’t worry, son. We’ll be there soon. H-hang in there,” he stuttered.

The call kept cutting out. I could barely hear them, but somehow I still caught the faint sobs of my baby sister, Aliyah. Her cries only made me more anxious. I wanted to be there for her. That’s what big brothers do. That’s what we all do for our sisters, no matter who’s older.

Aliyah was only five, but I knew Mom and Dad would stop at nothing to protect her — even if it meant their lives. God, I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Before I could say anything else, I heard a crash through the phone.

Then silence.

“Mom! Dad! Aliyah…” I shouted.

I couldn’t breathe. I dropped to the floor, waiting for a reply, but the longer I waited, the more that crash echoed in my head — like a dagger to the heart, stabbing over and over.

I couldn’t save Marissa. I couldn’t save my family. Hell, I didn’t even think I could save myself. I felt useless — with the whole world on my shoulders.

Something had to be done. Someone had to do something. And I was tired of watching everything in my life pass me by while I did nothing, always too afraid to act.

I screamed. Loud. At the top of my lungs — so loud the entire world could feel my pain.

Marissa looked back down, stunned by what she saw. Everyone around me covered their ears — even the ones up in the sky with her. I only hoped my voice carried far enough... that my family somehow heard me. That they knew I was still with them.

A few hours passed. I found myself in a dark room with dim lighting. No windows. Just hundreds of empty Pop-Tart boxes and the distant sound of crashing helicopters outside, dragging me right back to what I’d heard on the phone.

It only made me worry more.

“Well, I see the prince has finally awakened,” said an old man, stepping out from the shadows. Dressed like he’d walked straight out of the '60s — loud yellow shirt, multicolored pants. Honestly, he was the brightest thing in the room.

Twin girls followed behind him.

“I like him. Can we keep him?” they said in unison.

The old man shrugged. Didn’t seem like he cared either way — which, at the time, I couldn’t tell was a good thing or not.

One of the twins had bright orange hair, green eyes, and wore a dress straight out of a life-sized Cabbage Patch Doll box. It made me sad for a second — she reminded me of the red-haired girl from Sixteen Candles. That was my mom’s favorite movie.

The other twin was her opposite. Dark hair, dark eyes, dressed in black. I could barely see her. It was like she was the chaos — dressed for the end of the world. But I’d come to learn that was just her vibe. She preferred the darkness.

But whatever was going on, one thing mattered: I had to get to my family.

“Whoa there, cowboy. Take it easy. Where do you think you're going?” asked Marissa, pushing me back onto the couch.

“My family… I need to go… Something happened… I—”

“You’re not going anywhere right now,” she said. “You need rest. It’s crazy out there. We need to plan. We don’t even know what the holes in the sky are, or what we’re up against. So stay here. Eat this.”

She shoved a cinnamon Pop-Tart in my face.

“You need to eat.”

“Yeah, son. Trust us — you don’t want to go out there right now,” said the old man.

“But Marissa… what about your dad? Aren’t you worried he’s in trouble?”

“To be honest, Tristen—”

“Oh boy, here comes the truth,” muttered the old man, earning a sharp look from Marissa.

“Ignore him,” she said. “The truth is… I don’t know where I came from. I don’t know who my parents are. The man who raised me wasn’t my real dad — but I’d take him as my father any day, any month, any year. He was a great man. He passed years ago. I’ve been on my own ever since. My stepdad found out early on and told me to never reveal it. He even taught me how to control it.”

“A Bankai…” I whispered.

“Yeah. Kind of like a Bankai. When you started talking about it, it made me think of mine. But it looks like you have one too, silly goose,” she said, tapping my chest.

“Wait… Are you saying I have what you have?”

“Yup, you got one alright,” said the old man. “And you nearly blew everyone’s heads off with it.”

“Yeah, you even had glowing rings around your fingers,” the twins chimed in.

“I want one,” said the dark-haired twin.

Marissa took my hand gently. “Trust us. We’ll get to your family soon. But we have to be patient. If they’re anything like you said… I know they’re okay.”

The twins stepped forward.

“We could use him,” said the redhead.

“Yes, he’s special. But are we sure he’s not just a time bomb waiting to happen?” said the other.

Marissa hesitated. “I don’t know, you two… He’s not ready. He doesn’t know what he is, or what we are. We don’t even know if he can do it again.”

The old man spat on the ground. “You kidding me? I’ve never seen power like that. He could be stronger than all of us combined. We’ve got nothing left to lose.”

“So we put him through the test,” said the twins.

The old man nodded.

“I don’t like this, guys. What if he doesn’t come back? What if something bad happens?” Marissa said, standing in front of me like a mama bear.

Whatever they were about to do… Marissa needed to know I’d come back.

The redhead twin walked up to me. She was a lot shorter than I thought, but her aura? Massive. Like a jolt of adrenaline shot through me just by her presence.

She placed a hand on Marissa’s shoulder.

“Calm down… There’s no other choice. You know we don’t have much time. We only get one shot at this.”

Marissa slowly moved aside, unsure.

“Come with us, Tristen,” the twins said.

“But my family… we need to find them,” I begged.

“Trust in your God. Trust in faith. They’re okay — and you’ll see them again soon.”

I didn’t know what they meant. I wasn’t the religious type — my family was. I leaned more Buddhist, but I hadn’t exactly been the best at it lately. I was a mess. Lost.

Which hand do I grab? Would it matter? Either way, it was clear — their minds were made up.

“Ugh… why do people always pick your hand first,” the twin in black muttered.

“Told you he’d pick me,” said the redhead, smirking. “Maybe if you weren’t so dark all the time, people wouldn’t be so scared of you.”

“What are you saying? That I’m not nice?”

“Yup.”

“I’ll show you nice.”

The dark-haired twin walked over and wrapped her arms around me. It was awkward… but nice. I needed it.

Marissa laughed — a laugh as squeaky as a chipmunk’s. “How cute. You know, you could be a great dad someday.”

“Trust me, son,” said the old man. “Don’t rush into making babies. You’re too wet behind the ears. I’ve had kids. I love ‘em more than anything, but it’s not easy. You lose parts of yourself along the way.”

“You had kids?”

“Aye! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! I was just curious.”

“Of course I had kids. Two girls. Twins. As much as these two annoy me, they remind me of mine.”

“So… they were twins too?”

“Yup. Identical.”

As he talked, I was still wrapped in the arms of someone barely taller than Aliyah. A tear slid down my cheek for her — then two more for Mom and Dad. I wiped them away fast. Didn’t want Marissa to see.

Dad never liked Mom seeing his tears either.

Like father, like son.

Marissa walked over.

“Mind if I give you a hug too?” she asked.

I wanted to say she didn’t need to ask. She’d already given me more than that. Even though I’d fainted, I still remembered the kiss.

“Ew. Let me get out of here,” said the dark-haired twin.

“Ooo! Do you think they’re gonna kiss?” asked the redhead, peeking over curiously.

The old man turned away, shaking his head. Guess everyone forgot he was telling a story.

Not far from us, there was a door. Just a regular, boring door. What was it doing here?

“Marissa… where are we going?” I asked.

“Just trust me, okay? I’ll explain everything on the other side.”

All sorts of feelings bubbled inside me — but they’d been brewing for a while now. She felt like a stranger and something else entirely. Something more.

The old man opened the door. I expected a beam of light. Instead? Darkness. Emptiness.

“Ladies first,” he said.

Marissa and the twins groaned.

Me and Marissa held hands. The twins held our other hands. Then the twin in black reached for the old man’s hand.

“Come on. You’re not that old,” she joked.

“Why are you being so nice all of a sudden, Alison?” asked the old man.

She gave him a sharp stare. “You’re not supposed to say our names around guests, Gerald,” she whispered — loud enough for me to hear. Probably on purpose.

“But to answer your question: since everyone thinks I’m so dark, I’m proving them wrong. Tristen got a hug. Now you get my hand. Let’s go.”

He took her hand, but his face looked sad. Maybe there was more to his story.

“Well, I guess since you know everyone’s name now, I should just say mine before someone spills it,” said the redhead. “My name’s Maria. Nice to meet you.”

We stepped through the door together.

I felt like a newborn, breathing in life for the first time. The sky was as beautiful as a Picasso painting. No more black holes — just beauty.

“Welcome to Silent Hall,” said the twins.

TO BE CONTINUED…