I can see people's auras... and they're all really worried about me right now.

I have a gift. I can see people’s auras. They’re like little outlines of color that are just around people’s heads and bodies. I’ve been seeing them since I was six years old. They tell me things about a person’s state of mind. Red means they’re mad, orange means they’re passionate, and yellow means they’re happy. Purple is a weird one - it means they’re scared. Or worried. Or concerned. Something like that. I was six years old when I started seeing auras. And my dad was the one who noticed. His aura glowed bright purple. “Hey, kiddo? Everything okay? You’ve been staring at people all day.” I was sitting in my car seat, and my dad was driving me somewhere. I didn’t know what to say. “They’re just colors, daddy.” “They’re just colors?” “Yes, sir.” But then he started paying attention. And he saw them too. He saw the bright yellow aura of the ice cream man. The orange aura of the kid in Krav Maga class. The red aura of my mean aunt. My dad was fascinated by this new world. But then he started paying attention to my aura as well. “Hey kiddo, why is your aura so purple?” And I didn’t have an answer. My aura was always purple, and I had no idea why. My dad took me to lots of people to figure it out. Psychologists, and doctors, and even a few psychics. But nobody could really explain why my aura was always purple. Nobody could explain why I was so afraid all the time. But they could all see it. My dad, and the doctors, and the psychics. Everybody could see my aura, and they were all worried about me. I’m eighteen now, and I’m still afraid all the time. And my aura is still purple. I’m sitting in a chair in the living room at my parent’s house. I’m home for the summer, after finishing my first year of college. I’m flipping through TV stations, and my parents are sitting in the kitchen about ten feet away eating breakfast. They’re both watching me, and I know it. Their auras are bright purple. I flip through the channels, and I see a commercial for an antidepressant. The happy family on the screen all have yellow auras, but the depressed lady has a deep red aura. I keep flipping. The news is on, and all the politicians have orange auras. I keep flipping. The weather comes on, and the happy weatherman has a bright yellow aura. I keep flipping. But my dad’s aura is getting more and more purple. And my mom’s aura is getting more and more purple, and they’re both staring at me. “Kiddo? Everything okay?” My dad asks. And I see it. A commercial for a mental hospital. The patients all have deep red auras. Just like my aunt. I don’t say anything. I just keep flipping through the channels. My dad’s aura is getting even more purple. My mom’s aura is getting even more purple. And I can tell they’re getting ready to send me away. I’m still flipping through the channels, and now my parents are talking about me. They think I can’t hear them because they’re talking quietly. But I can hear them. “She’s going downhill fast,” My mom says. “We might need to get her into that institute I was telling you about, honey.” “I know,” Says my dad. “I know.” And that does it. I jump up out of my chair and I run upstairs to my room. I slam the door behind me and I lock it. They’re going to send me away. I can see it in their auras. I pace back and forth in my room for what feels like hours. I don’t know what will happen if they send me to the institute. They’ll lock me in a room, or maybe keep me drugged all the time. Or worse. And I know my parents are out there. I can hear them. I can hear them pacing back and forth in the hallway. And their auras are getting more and more purple. But then I hear my dad’s aura change. The purple starts to fade, and it turns into orange. He’s passionate now. He’s passionate about something. I hear the doorbell ring, and I hear my dad answer it. He’s talking to someone, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. Their voices are muffled. But then my dad is coming up the stairs. His aura is still orange, and he’s moving fast. I can hear the stairs creaking under his feet. I move away from the door and I watch as he unlocks it. He bursts in, and he’s holding onto another man. He’s grinning. And the man he’s holding onto is grinning. Or at least as much as grinning as his face will allow. He’s a plastic surgeon. And he’s held the grins of hundreds of celebrities in place. And he’s smiling proudly. “You know who this is?” My dad asks triumphantly. I shake my head. “He’s the best plastic surgeon in Hollywood,” My dad says. “He’s performed hundreds of surgeries on celebrities - actors and musicians and producers.” He’s grinning even wider now. And then I realize what he’s doing. “Daddy, I don’t - “ “That’s right, kiddo,” He interrupts. “We’re going to fix your aura.” I feel a cold dread creeping up my spine. I don’t know what this surgeon is planning to do to me, but it can’t be good. He steps forward. He’s still grinning, and his aura is bright orange. “Hello,” He says. “I am Dr. Nussbaum, and I specialize in aura repair.” I feel a cold dread creeping up my spine. “Aura repair?” I ask. “How does that work.” “Well, it’s quite simple, actually,” He explains. “We put a small microchip in your brain. It reads your thoughts, and shines a light inside you to match them. And we can adjust the light to whatever color we want.” I can’t believe this. “But what about what I’m *actually* feeling?” I ask. “Well, you’ll be happy all the time,” He answers. “The microchip will control your thoughts.” I’m shocked. “What?” “Yes,” He says. “It’s quite simple really.” I don’t believe this. They’re going to turn me into a happy robot. I try to stand up, but my dad grabs me. “No, kiddo,” He says. “This is what you need.” I try to fight him off, but Dr. Nussbaum is over to help now. He touches a needle to my neck and everything goes dark. *** I was groggy when I woke up. I didn’t know where I was, or what was happening. But I looked up, and I saw the plastic surgeon, and my dad. “What… what did you do to me?” I asked, groggily. “You were right, Dr. Nussbaum,” My dad said. “It only took fifteen minutes.” I didn’t believe it. He couldn’t have done it already. But when I looked at my hand, I saw it. A band-aid covering a small, clean cut. “How are you feeling?” Asked Dr. Nussbaum. “Groggy,” I said. “That will pass.” I tried to stand up. I was still groggy, but everything else was fine. And when I looked at my dad, I saw that his aura was yellow. “Hey kiddo,” He said, grinning. “You’re really going to like how this works.” I didn’t know what to say. So I looked at myself. My aura was a deep yellow. They had done it. I was happy now. But why did I feel so afraid?

I can see people's auras... and they're all really worried about me right now.

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