I was in my backyard on a chilly November day, with nothing better to do other than to sit outside and cuddle with a book. Well, I was supposed to be doing my biology homework, but the plants and concrete in my backyard weren't that interesting. In the middle of making up something for my bio write up, my writer decided to intervene with my boring life.
"Claire, let me show you something," my writer said. I turned around just in time to see the shadow of a person before they disappeared. It seemed my writer had struck again in my time of need.
In their place lay a wooden crate. I figured this was what my writer wanted to show me, so I stepped up to examine the box.
The top was stapled on tight, but my writer had left a crowbar next to it. Not that that helped me, as I'd never used a crowbar in my life. I spent a few minutes mimicking movie people, which is by far the worst way to try to do something. I ended up poking the sharp end into a corner and breaking off part of the box.
Inside were ten identical flashlights. I smiled to my writer, though they didn’t respond. Maybe they knew I needed yet another one for sneaking in some reading past bedtime.
I picked up one of the stainless steel flashlights, balancing it in my hand. It was sturdy and heavy; nearly thirty cm long; and all black, save for the twistable ring around the head.
It had a slide switch on the side, labeled with a 1 and a 0. I pushed it from 0 to 1 and it flared on.
I pointed it at my plum tree, which stood bare save a few dried leaves defying the 10° chill. Suddenly, the purple leaves turned stark orange, and the bark became a bright orangey-brown. The dial on the head read "orange tint." Comprehending, I twisted it to "desaturated."
This lens had the opposite effect. The bark became so gray it glowed blue. The purple leaves faded to a black, and the surrounding agapanthus looked pale gray.
Around the bubble beam of the flashlight, everything looked normal, though the shadows were getting longer in the winter evening.
"Hey Clarence, it's getting cold outside," my mom shouted from the screen door. "Come in."
"It's not cold," I shouted back.
"Come in anyway," my mom insisted.
I fiddled with the ring on the flashlight and set it to "visible." The tree's normal color returned, only slightly brighter than the fading light of the surroundings. I zipped up my windbreaker. It was a bit chilly. I sighed, giving in and going inside.
As much as I wanted to take the crate in, it was nearly immovable with the ten flashlights inside. I settled with taking the one I had with me.
The excitement held me tight as I tried my hardest to fall asleep. After two hours of aimlessly staring at my ceiling, I jumped out of bed around midnight, retrieving the mysterious flashlight from under my bed.
It was set on x-ray, and though I was worried about some radioactive element activating, I soon found out that was not the case at all.
I pointed it at my closet and found my 1:24 scale model Audi starting back at me. I frowned, checking if my closet was open, but it was shut tight. The x-ray function didn't seem to be shooting literal x-rays, but it seemed to show things that reflected x-rays in visible light, like a video game map. I studied the pipes and beams behind my model car and then trained it on my hands. The bones lit up, as well as my Timex on my wrist.
The light flickered and dimed. Apparently, the battery went out. Curious, I unscrewed the top. The battery was a silver pouch, thin, small, and extremely light. It barely filled the hollow tube of the flashlight. The pouch was smooth except for a corner, where words were stamped on it. It was dark in my room, with only a nightlight for illumination, so I couldn't make out the exact words.
About halfway down the tube, there was a steel separator, even though a quick knock test revealed that the bottom half sounded as hollow as the top.
There was no way I was going outside in the cold to retrieve another flashlight, so I hid this one under my bed and crawled back into the covers.
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