[ WP ] Every person in the world develops a weird mutation/power the day they turn 16 . Everyone 's powers are always different , some more insignificant than others . You turn 16 , and watch as all your friends discover their newfound ability 's . That is , until you discover the severity of your own .

I was at my Uncle's house the day before I turned sixteen. His house was a potpourri of spices and curry. They smelled amazing one by one, but together, they hit you like a spice train, each carriage hitting you with a new blast of pepper. I watched him flip pancakes for breakfast from thin air. I sighed and ate the pancakes, as they appeared one after the other. They tasted like pancakes all right, nothing special. Usually Uncle would constantly hammer on about the success of his restaurant, but after twenty years, the novelty of his powers soon ran out and his business was running downhill. That was often the case with the members of my family. Our powers were novel, but just because you were special it didn ’ t make you useful. Although we were proud that we were different than the rest, I often wished that I could grow up with normal powers like flying and super strength. I mean, people from around the world would all gather around their television to watch the flying people compete in blitzball. In my family, we gather around my older sister. She picks up television broadcast or radio signals, processes them and displays them on her belly. She is happy that people always want her around, but I don ’ t think that ’ s for the right reasons. 
 
 My dad was consoling me through Skype. He told me I should be happy with whatever power I got. I should be happy of my lineage and my power, because that ’ s who I am. I told my dad that I wished he were here to support me. He told me he would, if he didn ’ t find himself trapped in the Internet after he turned sixteen. I asked him how he made me then. He told me that I wasn ’ t ready for that yet, and to just remember that my mother can travel through fax machines. My mother was upstairs reading. She reads a lot these days, not being able to work as a travelling saleswoman now that fax machines are a thing of the past. I couldn ’ t help but cry. I wanted to shoot lasers from my eyes and phase through walls. My friends were already reading each other ’ s minds and turning things to ice. I found my bed. The police didn ’ t even bother to put me in quarantine. I closed my eyes. 
 
 I woke with an energy pulsing through me. I tried not to get excited so the disappointment wouldn ’ t hit me as hard, but it just felt so good. I don ’ t know what took over me, but I jumped and crashed through the bedroom window. Suddenly I was flying, and the broken shards of the window bounced off my impenetrable skin. I shrilled in delight and waved to my friend dashing below me. He gave me a thumbs up, but I could here him say in his mind that he didn ’ t really care. I was surprised; I had invisibility, flying and mind reading. I wanted to see what more I could do. I picked up the car parked below me. It was easy, like a feather. I felt as if all the generations of my ancestor ’ s mediocrity had built up to unleash a combination of great powers within me. Within a few hours time, I was folding the ground from beneath me, I was balancing the earth and the sun on opposite hands, and I was ripping holes in time and space, sending galaxies into oblivion. My power was overwhelming, and I felt awesome. 
 
 Uncle Brandon looked down on Peter who was laughing hysterically in bed. John was on the Skype call, and Mary put down her book. Together they watched Peter have the dream of his life, for his life. 

